“I say, you fellows,” said he; “don’t you think it is about time we made friends again?”
It occurred to me that this way of putting it was hardly correct, as we had never been friends before; but Percy did not notice it, and putting out his hand, he said, “All right, Bates; I’m willing if you are.”
Percy was of that straightforward, unsuspicious nature that it never entered his mind that Bates could have ulterior motive for his friendly advances; while, as for myself, I was accustomed to follow my chum’s lead without much consideration for the consequences. Accordingly we shook hands all round and walked on side by side, glad to think that the feud was ended.
“You haven’t been to the spinney to-day, have you?” asked Bates.
“No,” replied Percy. “We went up the Roman road to Crabtree’s farm. There are lots of rabbits there, and old Crabtree is glad to have them shot; they are so think as to be just a nuisance.”
“Well,” said Bates, “I’ve just come by the spinney, and I saw something that made me think of you two fellows and your bows and arrows. I had an idea; and you can help me to carry it out if you like. In fact, to be honest, that was why I proposed to you to be friends again.”
We were rather pleased at this “honest” confession. Bates was not such a bad fellow after all, perhaps.
“What is your idea?” asked Percy.
“I’ll tell you. As I was coming along I saw five pheasants fly over Sir Anthony’s park-wall and alight in the spinney. I crept in there, and there they were, all settling themselves for the night in a young fir-tree. Then I thought of you. What do you say to going out to-night and having a try for them? You can bring your bows and arrows, and I’ll show you the place. What do you say?”
“But, look here, Bates,” said I. “Isn’t it against the law to shoot pheasants?”