"If they've flown over the beaters, we have lost them for the afternoon." He paused and resumed: "I think the first lot are dropping.

No; they're coming on." Picking up his gun, he watched the advancing grouse.

They flew low but very fast, making a few strokes at intervals and then sailing on stretched wings down the wind.

In a few moments they were large and distinct, but there were not enough to cross more than the first two butts.

When they were fifty yards off Thorn threw up his gun and two pale flashes leaped out.