'All right,' he shouted, 'I'm on. Look out for yourself.'
There was a cut of his thong against thorns as he rose Bronzewing to a hedge which Rose had not seen. But she had scarcely steadied herself in the saddle from the half-considered leap in his wake before the partridge was down and up again at right-angles to its first flight; Lewis meanwhile bringing the mare round all he knew, and shouting, 'Ride it, Miss Tweedie! ride it.'
Shâhzâd, still steadied by the jump, was in hand, and, therefore, on the track in a second, snorting in mad hurry and excitement, and the bird was not quite so fast this time, or Rose was riding straighter, for she saw the last skim of the wings change to running feet as it touched the grey brown earth which tinted so perfectly with its plumage.
'Not there! not there!' came that warning voice from behind. 'It's run on. The next bush--put Shâhzâd over it.'
A leap, a scurry, a flutter, and the quarry was up again, heading in its hurry for an impossible open, backed by bare plough. Bronzewing being now alongside, Rose found leisure to glance round for the others.
'Gone after the second partridge,' said Lewis. 'I was afraid of it. There's a hedge twenty yards ahead, Miss Tweedie, I'll mark.'
They were over it, almost in the stride, and now the bird was below the horizon, a mere shadow of darker brown against the plough.
'I've lost it! I've lost it again!' The despairing cry came from Rose's very heart as she tugged vainly at Shâhzâd. When she succeeded in bringing him up, she saw that Lewis was slipping from the mare.
'AH right!' he cried cheerfully, dropping his white handkerchief on the ground, 'it's somewhere about! That's the place I marked; now for sharp eyes.'
Up and down the bare furrows he searched, followed by Bronzewing, her reins dangling. Up and down, with such patience, that Rose, gaining confidence, began to search also. Only, however, to lose hope, as minute after minute brought no result.
'I don't believe it's here,' she remarked at last; and with the words saw Lewis Gordon stoop to pick up something she had passed by, thinking it was a clod of earth.
'Your first partridge!' he said with a kindly laugh, as he placed the bird upon her lap. There it lay unhurt, wide-eyed and motionless as it had lain among the furrows.