up; and try, boys, do, to git 'em down the
hill into the boggy bottom, for we can use them, I tell you!" and so
they parted.

Archer and Forester, with Shot and Chase at heel, entered the little
thicket indicated, and beat it carefully, but blank; although the dogs
worked hard, and seemed as if about to make game more than once. They
crossed the road, and came into another little wood, thicker and wetter
than the first, with several springy pools, although it was almost upon
the summit of the hill. Here Harry took the left or lower hand, bidding
Frank keep near the outside at top, and full ten yards ahead of him.

"And mind, if you hear Tom shoot, or cry 'mark,' jump over into the open
field, and be all eyes, for that's their line of country into the swamp,
where we would have them. Hold up, good dogs, hold up!"

And off they went, crashing and rattling through the dry matted briers,
crossing each other evenly, and quartering the ground with rare
accuracy. Scarcely, however, had they beat ten paces, before Shot
flushed a cock as he was in the very act of turning at the end of his
beat, having run in on him down wind, without crossing the line of
scent. Flip--flip--flap rose the bird, but as the dog had turned, and
was now running from him, he perceived no cause for alarm, fluttered a
yard or two onward, and alighted. The dog, who had neither scented nor
seen the bird, caught the sound of his wing, and stood stiff on the
instant, though his stern was waved doubtfully, and though he turned his
sagacious knowing phiz over his shoulder, as if to look out for the
pinion, the flap of which had arrested his quick ear. The bird had
settled ere he turned, but Shot's eye fell upon his master, as with his
finger on the trigger-guard, and thumb on the hammer, he was stepping
softly up in a direct line, with eye intently fixed, toward the place
where the woodcock had dropped; he knew as well as though he had been
blessed with human intellect, that game was in the wind, and remained
still and steady. Flip--flap again up jumped the bird.

"Mark cock," cried Forester, from the other side of the wood, not having
seen any thing, but hearing the sound of the timber doodle's wing
somewhere or other; and at the self-same moment bang! boomed the full
report of Harry's right hand barrel, the feathers drifting off down wind
toward Frank, told him the work was done, and he asked no question; but
ere the cock had struck the ground, which he d