"Look sharp, Phil!" said Zed, briskly helping Phil out of the boat, "we've had hard luck in the water this morning, but we'll try our luck on land for once: we'll have one or two of 'Squire Hutton's pheasants before we leave the holt." "'Don't say so till you're sure!'" said Phil, for that was a common saying with him, as I hinted before; "I wish I could _look sharp_, as you bid me, Zed,—for I'll be hanged if you are not tearing my poor legs among the whins, like old pork, as the saying goes." "The deuce I am!" exclaimed Zed, slackening his pace; "I wouldn't hurt you, for all the world, Phil: but you know it's worth while trying to catch a pheasant or two,—they're such fine game." "I don't know, Zed," rejoined Phil, "whether it be worth while or not: we may get into a scrape by it, as old as we are, and——" "Pshaw!" cried Zed, with an air of resolute contempt; "come along, Phil!—come along!" "O come along, ay!" said Phil; "I shall go with you, if you go to the very devil!—but then I don't see what's the use of going there, yet,—as old 'Squire Pimpleface used to say, when he gave up playing cards at Saturday midnight, and refused, ever after to play on Sunday mornings——" "Hush!" said Zed, stopping short,—"my eyes! why, that must be the gamekeeper! No, it isn't:—but we had better lie down, Phil." "Down be it then!" said Phil, prostrating himself among the long grass, while the old fisherman followed his example. "Now, tell me," continued the fiddler, in a whisper, as they lay along among the grass, and the fisherman was anxiously keeping the look-out,—"tell me how you intend to catch the pheasants, Zed: you know you've no gun; and you can't catch 'em with a net in open day,—besides you haven't brought the net out of the boat, have you?" "Pooh!" replied Zed, "why, I've heard my father say that 'Squire Hutton's pheasants used to be as tame as bantam cocks, even in his time. We may catch 'em, bless your soul! ay, easily! And, if not, I'm sure I could hit one and knock it down with my hat." The blind fiddler burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter on hearing this artless declaration from his ancient companion. "Zowks, Zed!" he exclaimed at last, "thou hast got some wild maggots, for sure, into thy head this morning! prythee look out again, and see if the coast be clear; for the sooner we shove off in the boat again the better, I'm very sartain." "Confound that fellow! he's coming this way," said Zed, in a voice of alarm. And, indeed, there now seemed to be cause for fear, seeing that a tall man, with a gun on his shoulder, was hastening down the hill, apparently in a direction towards the foolish hiding-place of the fiddler and the fisherman. "What shall we do, Phil?" asked Zed, in the next breath. "Cut and run!" cried Phil, and sprung up as nimbly as a hare when you stumble upon her seat.