While he spoke two pigeons appeared, one a little behind the other, coming down very straight. As they reached the opening in the ilex grove they hovered, preparing to alight, for of us they could see nothing, one at a distance of about fifty and the other of, say, seventy yards away. I took the nearest, got on to it, allowing for the drop and the angle, and touched the trigger of the rifle, which fell to my shoulder very sweetly. The bullet struck that pigeon on the crop, out of which fell a shower of acorns that it had been eating, as it sank to the ground stone dead. Number two pigeon, realizing danger, began to mount upwards almost straight. I fired the second barrel, and by good luck shot its head off. Then I snatched the other rifle, which Charles had been loading automatically, from his outstretched hand, for at that moment I saw two more pigeons coming. At the first I risked a difficult shot and hit it far back, knocking out its tail, but bringing it, still fluttering, to the ground. The other, too, I covered, but when I touched the trigger there was a click, no more. This was my opportunity of coming even with Charles, and I availed myself of it. “Young man,” I said, while he gaped at me open-mouthed, “you should learn to be careful with rifles, which are dangerous weapons. If you give one to a shooter that is not loaded, it shows that you are capable of anything.” Then I turned, and addressing Lord Ragnall, added: “I must apologize for that third shot of mine, which was infamous, for I committed a similar fault to that against which I warned you, sir, and did not fire far enough ahead. However, it may serve to show your attendant the difference between the tail of a pigeon and an oak leaf,” and I pointed to one of the feathers of the poor bird, which was still drifting to the ground. “Well, if this here snipe of a chap ain’t the devil in boots!” exclaimed Charles to himself. But his master cut him short with a look, then lifted his hat to me and said: “Sir, the practice much surpasses the precept, which is unusual. I congratulate you upon a skill that almost partakes of the marvellous, unless, indeed, chance——” And he stopped. “It is natural that you should think so,” I replied; “but if more pigeons come, and Mr. Charles will make sure that he loads the rifle, I hope to undeceive you.” At this moment, however, a loud shout from Scroope, who was looking for me, reinforced by a shrill cry uttered by Miss Manners, banished every pigeon within half a mile, a fact of which I was not sorry, since who knows whether I should have hit all, or any, of the next three birds? “I think my friends are calling me, so I will bid you good morning,” I said awkwardly. “One moment, sir,” he exclaimed. “Might I first ask you your name? Mine is Ragnall—Lord Ragnall.” “And mine is Allan Quatermain,” I said.