"I hate what is called sport and sportsmen, but a rifle seems--" "What ?" said Falkner.
"More--gentlemanly." She had raised her pretty head in the air, and, with her hand shading her eyes, was looking around the clear ether, and said meditatively, "I wonder--no matter." "What is it ?" "Oh, nothing." "It is something," said Falkner, with an amused smile, reloading his rifle.
"Well, you once promised me an eagle's feather for my hat.

Isn't that thing an eagle ?" "I am afraid it's only a hawk." "Well, that will do.

Shoot that!" Her eyes were sparkling.

Falkner withdrew his own with a slight smile, and raised his rifle with provoking deliberation.
"Are you quite sure it's what you want ?" he asked demurely.
"Yes--quick!" Nevertheless, it was some minutes before the rifle cracked again.

The wheeling bird suddenly struck the wind with its wings aslant, and then fell like a plummet at a distance which showed the difficulty of the feat.