'As I said, not for the first time, which confirms me in saying he is only a Gulf Arab, for partridge-hunting is a Persian sport. Only don't tell your father, please; he would never forgive me.'
As he turned in his saddle, resting one hand on the mare's quarters in order to speak to Rose, voice and face full of almost boyish enjoyment, the girl felt that this was a new development of his character, and that she liked it better than the old ones.
'Now, as we go along, I'll explain. That bird took us by surprise,' he went on eagerly. 'Four is an ideal number, though I've had rare fun riding partridge single-handed. Number one ought to make the pace, keeping both eyes on the bird. Number two keeps his on the going, so as to save Number one from coming to grief over rough country. Number three rides cautious, landmarks the flight, and is ready to turn if the bird breaks back--you can't when you are going full speed, unless the bird towers. Number four rides cunning, cuts off curves, and heads for likely covers. The whole aim being to press the partridge so hard that it has no time to settle in shelter, but, after skimming down to a bush, runs through it, and takes to wing again on the other side.'
'And gets away, I suppose,' muttered, George Keene, still out of temper. 'Don't see the fun of it.'
'Wait a bit,' retorted Lewis gaily. 'Now you must remember that the _rôle_ you have to play depends on how the bird breaks. There is no time to settle. The nearest in must ride it, the rest choose their parts as best--steady, mare, steady!'
It was only a faint '_te-tetar--te-tetar_,' in the far distance, but Bronzewing started, and even George's pony cocked its ears; while humanity went on breathlessly in line, the horses' feet at a walk giving out a hollow sound on the hard soil, the yellow sunshine casting hard shadows.
'Look out!' cautioned Lewis, in a whisper. 'There's a partridge running on ahead; by you, I think, Fitzgerald.'
'Farther to the left. The mare sees it. We must trot a bit, or it won't rise fair. Steady, lass, steady!'
'I see it,' came in excited tones from George, 'by the big bush, Miss Tweedie.'
'That's another,' cautioned Lewis again. 'Take care and don't----'
The cry came from two quarters; but Shâhzâd was already extended, and Rose forgetful of everything save those brown wings low down against the horizon. She was closer on them this time, for she could see their skimming swoop as they neared a heavy clump of cover. Yet she felt she must lose them, as she had done before, when to her relief she saw Lewis shoot ahead.'