EMOTIONS OF A RED PARTRIDGE 95

comrade hid himself behind a little
oak-tree, I placed myself close to him,
and we stayed there in concealment,
looking through the leaves.

In the fields a ‘terrible firing was
going on. At every volley I closed
my eyes, quite giddy; then when I
decided to open them again I saw the
great open field, the dogs running
about, ferreting in the grass and among
the sheaves, turning over and over as
if they were crazy. Behind them the
sportsmen were swearing and calling,
their guns shining in the sun. One
moment, in a little cloud of smoke, I
thought I saw—though there were no
trees about—something floating like —
scattered leaves. But the old cock
told me they were feathers; in fact, a
hundred paces in front of us, a splendid
gray partridge fell into the furrow,
twisting back his bloody head.

When the sun was high and burning,
the firing suddenly ceased. The
sportsmen returned towards the little