Might I sit here a moment to watch it ?" She seated herself soundlessly among the dead leaves; he sank into place beside her, laying his gun aside.
"Rather rough on the dog," he said with a grimace.
"I know.

It is very good of you, Mr.Siward to do this for my pleasure.
Oh--h! Do you see! Oh, the little beauty!" The woodcock had risen, plumage puffed out, strutting with wings bowed and tail spread, facing the dog.

The sudden pigmy defiance thrilled her.
"Brave! Brave!" she exclaimed, enraptured; but at the sound of her voice the bird crouched like a flash, large dark liquid eyes shining, long bill pointed straight toward them.
"He'll fly the way his bill points," said Siward.

"Watch!" He rose; she sprang lightly to her feet; there came a whirring flutter, a twittering shower of sweet notes, soft wings beating almost in their very faces, a distant shadow against the sky, and the woodcock was gone.
Quieting the astounded dog, gun cradled in the hollow of his left arm, he turned to the girl beside him: "That sort of thing wins no cups," he said.
"It wins something else, Mr.Siward,--my very warm regard for you." "There is no choice between that and the Shotover Cup," he admitted, considering her.
"I--do you mean it ?" "Of course I do, vigorously!" "Then you are much nicer than I thought you.

...