The fellow went to bigger shoots and looked bored when Osborn's partridges were scarce and wild; besides, he had broken rules in order to get a shot when they walked the turnip fields in line.

Osborn imagined Jardine would not have done so had he been a guest at one of the houses he boasted about visiting.
As they climbed Malton Head another of the party had broken Dowthwaite's drystone wall and the farmer had said more about the accident than the damage justified.

In fact, Dowthwaite was rather aggressive, and now Osborn came to think of it, one or two others had recently grumbled about things they had hitherto borne without complaint.
In the meantime, Osborn and Thorn, who shared his butt, looked about while they waited for the beaters.

The row of turf banks, regularly spaced, ran back to the Force Crags at the head of the dale.

The red bloom of the ling was fading from the moor, which had begun to get brown.
Sunshine and shadow swept across it, and the blue sky was dotted by flying, white-edged clouds.