“How stupid of me!” he exclaimed, while the others loaded their guns.
“Never mind; better luck next time,” said Harry, as they resumed their walk. “I saw the flock settle down about half a mile in advance of us; so step out.”
Another short walk brought the sportsmen again within range.
“Go to the front, Hammy,” said the accountant, “and take the first shot this time.”
Hamilton obeyed. He had scarcely made ten steps in advance, when a single bird, that seemed to have been separated from the others, ran suddenly out from under a bush, and stood stock-still, at a distance of a few yards, with its neck stretched out and its black eye wide open, as if in astonishment.
“Now, then, you can’t miss that.”
Hamilton was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this necessity for instantaneous action. Instead, therefore, of taking aim leisurely (seeing that he had abundant time to do so), he flew entirely to the opposite extreme—took no aim at all, and fired off both barrels at once, without putting the gun to his shoulder. The result of this was that the affrighted bird flew away unharmed, while Harry and the accountant burst spontaneously into fits of laughter.
“How very provoking!” said the poor youth, with a dejected look.
“Never mind—never say die—try again,” said the accountant, on recovering his gravity. Having reloaded, they continued the pursuit.
“Dear me!” exclaimed Harry suddenly, “here are three dead birds.—I verily believe, Hamilton, that you have killed them all at one shot by accident.”