caught there, and, in his
stumbling fall, somehow or other the second barrel went off, one pellet
just catching the major under the eye. The surface wound caused a good
shedding of blood, but that was all; and when the major had got his face
washed he shouldered his gun again, and with indomitable pluck said he
would see the thing out. It was nothing but a scratch, he declared. It
might have been dangerous; but what was the good of considering what
might have been? To the young man who had been the cause of the
accident, and who was quite unable to express his profound sorrow and
shame, he was generously considerate, saying that he had fined him in
the sum of one penny when he took a postage-stamp to cover the wound.

"Lord Beauregard," said he, cheerfully, "I want you to show me a
thorough-going hot corner. You know I am an ignoramus of this kind of
thing."

"Well," said his host, "there is a good bit along here, if you would
rather go on."

"Go on?" said he. "Of course!"

And it was a "hot corner." They came to it at the end of a long double
hedgerow connected with the wood they had just beaten; and as there was
no "stop" at the corner of the wood, the pheasants in large numbers had
run into the channel between the double line of hedge. Here they were
followed by the keepers and beaters, who kept gently driving them along.
Occasionally one got up, and was instantly knocked over by one of the
guns; but it was evident that the "hot corner" would be at the end of
this hedgerow, where there was stationed a smock-frocked rustic who,
down on his knees, was gently tapping with a bit of stick. The number of
birds getting up increased, so that the six guns had pretty sharp work
to reckon with them; and not a few of the wildly whirring objects got
clean away into the next wood--Lord Beauregard all the time calling out
from the other side of the hedge, "Shoot high! shoot high!" But at the
end of the hedgerow an extraordinary scene occurred. One after the
other, then in twos and threes, the birds sprang high over the bushes;
the rattle of musketry--all the guns being together now--was deafening:
the air was filled with gunpowder smoke; and every second or two another
bird came tumbling down on to the young corn. Macleod, with a sort of
derisive laugh, put his gun over his shoulder.

"This is downright stupidity," he said to Major Stuart, who was blazing
away as hard as ever he could cram cartridges into the hot barrels of
h