They were not long about it. Apollo's gallop became a sort of run, a yard or two of stealthy crawl, and he stopped dead, tail stiff and throat distended, like a dog of marble, and looked round for Fiona. Artemis was just crossing him; she whipped round in her stride as if shot and became a second marble image where she stood. Fiona walked down to Apollo. But the ferns rustled a good deal as she made her way through, and as she reached the dog's side the cock rose, five yards away, with a lazy careless flap as if it felt only the bother of being disturbed. For a moment she had a vivid impression of the white patches at the end of its fan of tail feathers, and then it gradually gathered speed and swept away over the side of the valley; for an instant it showed black as it crossed the sky line, and then it was gone. Apollo turned to Fiona with unhappy eyes and licked her hand. But Artemis never moved a muscle. "Come to me," she said in a low whisper. Very quietly Fiona reached her side. "The other bird is here," whispered Artemis, "just under my nose. Stoop down." Fiona bent down between the stalks of the bracken. The woodcock was sitting with its back to her, a little brown bunch of feathers. Very gently she put her hand out, and even as she did so she became aware of a wise black eye looking at her, though the bird faced the other way. Her hand closed on the empty air, and the woodcock, with a wonderful spring, was well on its way to seek its mate. "I believe I could have put a foot on it," said Artemis regretfully. "But of course we are not allowed to." "I don't know how I came to be so foolish," said Fiona. "I ought to have spoken to it instead of trying to catch it. But I forgot." "Better luck next time," said Apollo; "we must try again." But though the dogs worked the whole of the ferns carefully, there was no other bird there. They came back and lay down beside Fiona, tongues out and panting. "It's no use trying the heather yet, I know," said Artemis. "Birds are never in it at this time of year." "There are some more ferns two miles on," said Apollo doubtfully. "I saw a bird there once, three years ago." "I wish I knew what to do," said Fiona. "We can leave it for a day or two and come back," said Artemis. "Those two birds will be back again to look for each other." "But they won't be so confiding again," added Apollo. They were all so preoccupied that they never noticed the shepherd till he was quite close to them. He was striding down the track, a big, raw-boned man with red hair; a plaid was thrown loosely across his shoulder; at his heels followed a jet black collie. The dogs saw him first. It would seem that they did not like him. Every hair on their necks bristled; they shrank close to Fiona, making little moaning noises in their throats, and flattening themselves as if they were trying to burrow into the ground. Their eyes were full of terror.