Suddenly there came the whir of bird wings, and all the boys turned quickly to see what they were.
“Partridges! And the hunting season is on yet!” cried Frank.
“Let’s leave the packs here so we can find our way again, and go after them!” suggested Lanky Wallace.
Whereupon packs were thrown to the ground, guns were slung across their arms, and they stole forward in the direction taken by the birds.
The partridges had come to earth in a small thicket of leafless brush about an eighth of a mile off to the left.
But Frank and Lanky were not very well armed for bird hunting. Rifles intend no scattering of shot, but demand that a close bead shall be drawn, for only a single shot will reach the prey.
The boys realized this, but they were intent on the fun of taking the chance. Besides, they wanted to see what Paul and Buster could do.
Creeping more slowly and more stealthily, they were close to the brush when there came a whir, and the covey arose from the ground.
Three quick shots sounded one after the other. Then——
Bang! A single shot followed the other three, and one of the partridges fluttered in the air, seemed to stumble on wing, and then dropped quickly to the ground.