It is a woodcock," answered Scroope.
By this time the brown bird was rocking past me within ten yards.

I fired and killed it, for where it had been appeared nothing but a cloud of feathers.

It was a quick and clever shot, or so I thought.

But when Charles stepped out and picked from the ground only a beak and a head, a titter of laughter went down the whole line of guns and loaders.
"I say, old chap," said Scroope, "if you will use No.

3 shot, let your birds get a little farther off you." The incident upset me so much that immediately afterwards I missed three easy pheasants in succession, while Van Koop added two to his bag.
Scroope shook his head and Charles groaned audibly.