Philip and Congreve engaged in conversation, the latter apparently forgetting that he had a gun on his shoulder. Harry, however, remembered that he was guide to a sportsman, and kept on the lookout for birds. “Hush! There’s a partridge,” he said, touching Congreve’s arm and pointing to the bird. James Congreve quickly brought his gun to rest and fired. He had very little skill, however, and the startled bird flew away, in less danger than if the gun had been in the hands of Harry. “I didn’t have time to take aim,” said Congreve, apologetically. “Can you shoot?” “A little,” answered Harry, modestly. “If I had had the gun the bird wouldn’t have got away,” said Philip, boastfully. “Take it, then,” said Congreve. “All right!” So Philip took the gun and began to look out for birds. He soon had an opportunity to show his skill. A bird was seen flying slowly through the air. “There’s your chance, Phil!” said Congreve, quickly. Philip raised the gun awkwardly, and it went off in quite a different direction from the one contemplated. But, as luck would have it, a foolish crow got in the way just at the critical moment, and received the charge meant for another object. “There; do you see that?” exclaimed Philip, triumphantly. “You don’t mean to say you intended to shoot that crow?” asked Congreve. “Of course I did!” answered Philip shortly, determined to get the credit of his success. Harry could not help smiling. “What are you laughing at?” demanded Philip, scowling. “At the mistake I made,” answered Harry, good-humoredly. “I thought you were firing at the partridge.” “You see you were mistaken,” said Philip, offensively. “I see I was,” returned Harry, quietly. He thought it was foolish to get angry about such a trifle. “Go and get the crow,” said Philip, arrogantly. It had fallen among some underbrush not far away. “Shall I?” asked Harry, turning to Congreve, whom he recognized as his employer, and the only one entitled to order him about. “What do you want it for, Philip?” asked Congreve. “It’s only a crow—good for nothing.” “Never mind; I want it,” answered Philip. In truth, it was the first bird he had ever succeeded in shooting, though he would not have been willing to acknowledge this, and he wanted to display it at home as a trophy of his skill. “Then you may get it,” said Congreve, who, in spite of his dishonorable character, was, in manners, more of a gentleman than Philip. Harry at once plunged into the thicket, and not without difficulty succeeded in finding the crow, which he brought out and delivered to Philip. The latter only consented to carry it on account of the pride he felt in his success as a sportsman. “Here, take this gun, Gilbert, and try your luck next,” said Congreve. “I suppose he will eclipse us all,” Philip remarked, with a sneer. “I don’t know about that,” returned Harry, good-naturedly. “I haven’t been out many times, not having any gun of my own.”