ried Corbould. "Scrag that beastly fowl. It's giving
away the whole show!" And indeed such was likely to be the result, for
what with the owl hissing like a fury overhead, and the hen yelling
below, it seemed that the din should be heard for miles.

A hedge stake, deftly shied, silenced the latter, and this first act of
stern self-preservation accomplished, the second followed, viz.: to slip
cautiously forth, and make themselves remarkably scarce. This they
succeeded in doing. Luck favoured them, miraculously as it seemed, and,
having put a respectable distance between themselves and the scene of
the adventure, they made for a safe hiding-place where they could decide
on the next move, for it was manifestly impossible for Corbould to show
up in that state.

Snugly ensconced in a dry ditch, well overhung with brambles, they soon
regained wind after their exertions and excitement. But Haviland, lying
on the ground, laughed till he cried.

"If you could only have seen yourself, Corbould," he stuttered between
each paroxysm, "rising like Phoenix from the ashes! And that infernal
fowl waltzing round and round the barn squawking like mad, and the jolly
owl flapping and hissing up top there! O Lord, you'd have died!"

"We didn't get the eggs, though. Wouldn't have minded if we'd got the
eggs."

"Well, we won't get them now, for I don't suppose either of us'll be
such asses as to go near the place again this season after the to-do
there'll be when old Siggles discovers the smash up. It's a pity to
have done all that damage though, gets us a rottener name than ever."

"It couldn't. These beasts of farmers, it doesn't hurt them if we hunt
for nests. Yet they're worse than the keepers. _They_ have some
excuse, the brutes."

"How on earth were you such an ass as to come that cropper, Corbould?"
said the other, going off into a paroxysm again.

"Oh, it's all jolly fine, but what'd you have done with that beastly owl
flapping around your ears and trying to peck your eyes out? But I say.
What are we going to do about this?" showing the horrible mess his
clothes were in.

Both looked blank for a few moments. Then Haviland brightened.

"Eureka!" he cried. "We'll plaster you up with dry mud, and it you're
asked, you can swear you had a fall on your back. You did too, so
that'll be no lie."

The idea was a good one. By dint of rubbing in handfuls of dry earth,
every trace of the eggs, half-incubated as they