After luncheon the guns and beaters were employed in driving two narrow covers, each of them about half a mile long, towards a wood planted upon the top of a rise of ground. On they went steadily, firing at cock pheasants only, till, the end of the plantations being unstopped, the greater number of the birds were driven into this Hanging Wood, which ended in a point situated about a hundred and twenty yards from the borders of the two converging plantations. Between these plantations and the wood lay a little valley of pasture land, through which ran a stream; and it was the dip of this valley, together with the position of the cover on the opposite slope, that gave to the Hanging Wood its reputation of being the most sporting spot for pheasant shooting in that neighbourhood. The slaughter of hand-reared pheasants is frequently denounced, for the most part by people who know little about it, as a tame and cruel amusement; and it cannot be denied that this is sometimes so, especially where the object of the keeper, or of his master, is not to show sport, but to return a heavy total of slain at the end of the day. In the case of a cover such as has been described, matters are very different, however; for then the pheasants, flying towards their homes, from which they have been disturbed, come over the guns with great speed and at a height of from eight-and-twenty to forty yards, and the shooting must be good that will bring to bag more than one in four of them. By the banks of the stream between the covers Henry and his companions found Mr. Levinger and Emma waiting for them, the pony trap in which they had come having been driven off to a little distance, so as not to interfere with the beat. “Here I am,” said Mr. Levinger: “I don’t feel up to much, but I was determined to see the Hanging Wood shot again, even if it should be for the last time. Now then, Bowles, get your beaters round as quick as you can, and be careful that they keep wide of the cover, and don’t make a noise. I will place the guns. You’ve no time to lose: the light is beginning to fade.” Bowles and his small army moved off to the right, while Mr. Levinger pointed out to each sportsman the spot to which he should go upon the banks of the stream; assigning to Henry the centre stand, both because he was accompanied by a loader with a second gun, and on account of his reputation of being the best shot present. “The wind is rising fast and blowing straight down the cover,” said Mr. Levinger, when he had completed his arrangements; “those wild-bred birds will take some stopping, unless I am much mistaken. I tell you what, Graves: I bet you half a crown that you don’t kill a pheasant for every four cartridges you fire, taking them as they come, without shirking the hard ones.”