And I will bet you now," she added, flushing, "that your old cup is ours." "Wait," said Siward, laughing, "we may not shoot straight." "You will! Kemp, I'll wager whatever you dare!" "Gloves?
Stockings ?--against a cigarette case ?" he suggested.
"Done," she said disdainfully, moving forward along the skirmish line with a nod and smile for the groups now disintegrating into couples, the Page boys with Eileen Shannon and Rena Bonnesdel, Marion Page followed by Alderdene, Mrs.Vendenning and Major Belwether and the Tassel girl convoyed by Leroy Mortimer.

Farther along the line, taking post, she saw Quarrier and Miss Caithness, Captain Voucher with Mrs.Mortimer, and others too distant to recognise, moving across country with glitter and glint of sunlight on slanting gun barrels.
And now Ferrall was climbing into his saddle beside his pretty wife, who sat her horse like a boy, the white flag lifted high in the sunshine, watching the firing line until the last laggard was in position.
"All right, Grace!" said Ferrall briskly.

Down went the white flag; the far-ranged line started into motion straight across country, dogs at heel.
From her saddle Mrs.Ferrall could see the advance, strung out far afield from the dark spots moving along the Fells boundary, to the two couples traversing the salt meadows to north.

Crack! A distant report came faintly over the uplands against the wind.
"Voucher," observed Ferrall; "probably a snipe.

Hark! he's struck them again, Grace." Mrs.Ferrall, watching curiously, saw Siward's gun fly up as two big dark spots floated up from the marsh and went swinging over his head.
Crack! Crack! Down sheered the black spots, tumbling earthward out of the sky.
"Duck," said Ferrall; "a double for Stephen.