Then her thoughts were disturbed, for somebody in the wood shouted: "Mark cock flying low to right!" A gunshot rang out close by and a small brown bird, skimming the top of the hedge, fluttered awkwardly across the road.

Next moment dry twigs rustled and a young man leaped on to the grass with a smoking gun in his hand.

As he threw it to his shoulder, Kit ran forward and struck the barrel.

There was a flash and while the echoes of the report rolled across the wood a little puff of smoke floated about the men.

Grace stood still, trembling, for she knew she had run some risk of being shot.
"Why don't you look before you shoot ?" Kit shouted in a strange, hoarse voice.