who was the pianist, found _John Peel_, which he knew, and he found
himself standing by that young lady, confused and shamefaced, trying to
make his voice master a great lump there seemed to be in his throat. To
make it worse the hubbub of voices ceased at the first notes, though it
had swelled the louder during previous performances. All the men began
marking the time with heads and hands, and when the chorus came first
one and then another joined in, and it ended in a full burst of sound,
just as when Crawley sung it at school. This gave him confidence, and
he sang the second and remaining verses with spirit, the choruses
swelling louder and louder, and when he finished there was much hand-
clapping. So at last he had a gleam of success, and Lionel Gould, who
had been growing a little supercilious, returned partially to his old
conciliatory manner.

Next day a large party sallied forth with their guns, and Crawley was
placed under a high, thick hedge, and told to look out for partridges as
they came over his head. Young Gould was some little distance on his
left; and at about the same interval on his right Sir Harry Sykes, a
neighbouring squire famous for his skill with the gun, had his station.
Beaters had gone round a long way off to drive the birds towards them,
and soon shots were heard to right and left; and then Crawley saw some
dark specks coming towards his hedge, and prepared to raise his gun.
But it was like a flash of lightning; they were over and away before he
could bring his gun up. Gould had fired, indeed, though ineffectually,
but Sir Harry had a brace. Three more appeared; this time Crawley fired
his first barrel at them before they were within shot, and then turning
round, gave them the second after they had got far out of it. More
came; Gould got one, Sir Harry another; a brace, flying close together
passed not directly over Crawley, but a little to his right; and Sir
Harry having just fired and being unloaded, Crawley let fly at them, and
by a lucky fluke they both came rushing to the ground, stone-dead.

"Good shot, boy!" cried Sir Harry. He had hardly spoken before more
birds came directly towards him; Crawley watched; he shot one as it came
on, and immediately, without turning round, raised his gun, head, and
arms, till it seemed as if he would go over backwards, and fired again
with equally deadly effect.

This second feat Crawley did not attempt to imitate, but a steady shot
as the