"That's all the story，" he went on. "I don't like the man myself， but he is a wonderful pheasant shot， which passes him everywhere. Shooting has become a kind of fetish in these parts， Mr. Quatermain. For instance， it is a tradition on this estate that we must kill more pheasants than on any other in the country， and therefore I have to ask the best guns， who are not always the best fellows. It annoys me， but it seems that I must do what was done before me.""Under those circumstances I should be inclined to give up the thing altogether， Lord Ragnall. Sport as sport is good， but when it becomes a business it grows hateful. I know， who have had to follow it as a trade for many years.""That's an idea，" he replied reflectively. "Meanwhile， I do hope that you will win back your--ā5 from Sir Junius. He is so vain that I would gladly give ā50 to see you do so.""There is little chance of that，" I said， "for， as I told you， I have never shot pheasants before. Still， I'll try， as you wish it.""That's right. And look here， Mr. Quatermain， shoot well forward of them. You see， I am venturing to advise you now， as you advised me yesterday. Shot does not travel so fast as ball， and the pheasant is a bird that is generally going much quicker than you think. Now， here we are. Charles will show you your stand. Good luck to you."Ten minutes later the game began outside of a long covert， all the seven guns being posted within sight of each other. So occupied was Iin watching the preliminaries， which were quite new to me， that Iallowed first a hare and then a hen pheasant to depart without firing at them， which hen pheasant， by the way， curved round and was beautifully killed by Van Koop， who stood two guns off upon my right.
"Look here， Allan，" said Scroope， "if you are going to beat your African friend you had better wake up， for you won't do it by admiring the scenery or that squirrel on a tree."So I woke up. Just at that moment there was a cry of "cock forward." Ithought it meant a cock pheasant， and was astonished when I saw a beautiful brown bird with a long beak flitting towards me through the tops of the oak trees.
"Am I to shoot at that？" I asked.
"Of course. It is a woodcock，" answered Scroope.
By this time the brown bird was rocking past me within ten yards. Ifired 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. Now that I was not in competition with his master he had become suddenly anxious that Ishould win， for in some mysterious way the news of that bet had spread， and my adversary was not popular amongst the keeper class.
"Here you come again，" said Scroope， pointing to an advancing pheasant.
It was an extraordinarily high pheasant， flushed， I think， outside the covert by a stop， so high that， as it travelled down the line， although three guns fired at it， including Van Koop， none of them seemed to touch it. Then I fired， and remembering Lord Ragnall's advice， far in front. Its flight changed. Still it travelled through the air， but with the momentum of a stone to fall fifty yards to my right， dead.
"That's better！" said Scroope， while Charles grinned all over his round face， muttering：
"Wiped his eye that time."
This shot seemed to give me confidence， and I improved considerably， though， oddly enough， I found that it was the high and difficult pheasants which I killed and the easy ones that I was apt to muff. But Van Koop， who was certainly a finished artist， killed both.
At the next stand Lord Ragnall， who had been observing my somewhat indifferent performance， asked me to stand back with him behind the other guns.
"I see the tall ones are your line， Mr. Quatermain，" he said， "and you will get some here."On this occasion we were placed in a dip between two long coverts which lay about three hundred yards apart. That which was being beaten proved full of pheasants， and the shooting of those picked guns was really a thing to see. I did quite well here， nearly， but not altogether， as well as Lord Ragnall himself， though that is saying a great deal， for he was a lovely shot.
"Bravo！" he said at the end of the beat. "I believe you have got a chance of winning your ā5， after all."When， however， at luncheon， more than an hour later， I found that Iwas thirty pheasants behind my adversary， I shook my head， and so did everybody else. On the whole， that luncheon， of which we partook in a keeper's house， was a very pleasant meal， though Van Koop talked so continuously and in such a boastful strain that I saw it irritated our host and some of the other gentlemen， who were very pleasant people.
At last he began to patronize me， asking me how I had been getting on with my "elephant-potting" of late years.
I replied， "Fairly well."
"Then you should tell our friends some of your famous stories， which Ipromise I won't contradict，" he said， adding： "You see， they are different from us， and have no experience of big-game shooting.""I did not know that you had any， either， Sir Junius，" I answered， nettled. "Indeed， I thought I remembered your telling me in Africa that the only big game you had ever shot was an ox sick with the red-water. Anyway， shooting is a business with me， not an amusement， as it is to you， and I do not talk shop."At this he collapsed amid some laughter， after which Scroope， the most loyal of friends， began to repeat exploits of mine till my ears tingled， and I rose and went outside to look at the weather.
