'Let us keep further apart, Mr. Montgomerie.'
'As far off as you please,' added Hew ungraciously, and moving further away to his left.
Cecil continued to work his way between the crowded fir and larch stems, which, by receiving many a charge of shot, saved the birds that hovered beyond them, the voice of the keeper crying ever and anon: 'Mark cock!' 'Hare forward!' ''Ware hen.' 'A hare for you, Master Hew—a miss again!' 'Come to heel, Countess—come to heel!' the latter, with the vicious whack of a whip, was directed to one of the pointers.
While Cecil was inwardly laughing at Hew's wild shooting, a charge of shot from the right whizzed past his face and tore away the rim of his hat.
A natural exclamation of rage and alarm escaped him, as he had so narrowly escaped having his sight destroyed or his face disfigured for life, and looking whence the shot came, he saw Hew gently slipping another cartridge into the breech of his gun, under cover of a great Scottish fir with a red gnarled stem.
'I shall thank you, sir, to keep your muzzle up, or quit the ground!' said Falconer, angrily.
'It was a devil of a mistake—and I beg your pardon,' replied Hew, giving his cold damp hand to Cecil, who saw—or thought he saw—a quiet twinkle of mingled malice and amusement in the speaker's bilious eye.
'Blundering fool! Could he have meant it? Looks deuced like it—but why?' thought the young officer more angrily, as he thought over the matter.
'He weel-nigh shot Sir Piers in the same unco fashion, sir,' grumbled the old keeper; while Cecil now changed his ground again, and for actual safety kept closer to Hew than ever.
Four long beats through the covers brought luncheon-time, and while flasks and sandwiches were produced, the slain were counted as they were laid in long rows on the side of a grassy bank, each keeper, as he came up in succession, adding his quota to the general stock, all furred and feathered victims from the covers of Eaglescraig, and so numerous, that the sportsmen thought enough had been done for one day.