out of the brushwood and played about quite near to the horses' heads. With the masculine instinct of destructiveness, a gun was loaded with evil intent, but wise little bunny had an instinct too, for he went out of the way of the slaughter.
But while the muzzle was regretting its lost roar, a fat partridge hopped out of the bush about fifty yards ahead.
"Look! look!" cries the yellow youth, stopping the horse. "Dere's a cock shot, boss!"
The gun was raised and the little brown hen covered, when a quiet protest was heard from the black boy.
"'Tain't right to shoot a bird in de mating season!"
But the remonstrance was late, the hammer fell, the explosion followed—and the partridge, by good luck, escaped across the canal. The enjoyment of the black boy was as evident as the disappointment of the yellow one. If anything were needed to make the sportsman ashamed of himself, it was the timid little "cluck-clucking" of the covey in the grass, alarmed for the welfare of the absent one. The tameness of the birds at this season made the offence all the meaner; and the double reproach of the black boy's eye and the frightened little family in the field had its full effect.
