The farmer's refusal to dispute with him was galling.

For all that, he must try to find his friends some sport, and after consulting with his gamekeeper sent the beaters on across the moor.
The new drive was not successful, and in the evening the party came down the hill with a very poor bag.

When they reached the Redmire wood Osborn stopped beside a broken hedge.

Red beeches shone among the yellow birches and dark firs, the sun was low and its slanting rays touched the higher branches, but the gaps between the trunks were filled with shadow.

A few bent figures moved in the gloom, and Osborn frowned when three or four children came down a drive, dragging a heavy fallen bough.