“You’ll find pigeons out here, Nat, four times as big as you have seen at home. Look, my boy, on the top branches of that great tree there is quite a cluster of them. Steal up softly; you round that way, I will go this. We shall one of us get a shot, I dare say.”
I made a little circuit in obedience to my uncle’s orders, and we crept up softly towards where a huge tree rose like a pillar to a tremendous height before sending out a branch, and there, just dimly seen in the soft twilight beneath the canopy of leaves, were several huge birds, which took flight with a great rattle of wings as we came near.
There was the quick report of my uncle’s gun, closely followed by mine, and one bird fell heavily to the ground, the others disappearing from view beyond the trees; but just then our companion uttered a shout and dashed on ahead, to return in a few minutes with a second bird which his quick eyes had detected as wounded, and he had seen it drop into a tree some distance off, and then fall, to lead him a long chase before he secured it and brought it back.
Meanwhile we were both kneeling beside the first, which had fallen in a patch of open ground where the sun came down, and I shall never forget the delight with which I gazed at its wonderfully beautiful plumage.
“A pigeon, you see, Nat,” said my uncle; “and a fine one too.”
“Is that a pigeon, uncle?” I said wonderingly.
“To be sure it is, my boy, and—”
Crack!
“That was a thrush, if I am not mistaken.”
I ran and picked up a bird that he shot in the middle of his speech, as it flew over some low bushes, and brought it back in triumph.