"I do wish I could see a woodcock on the ground," she breathed. "Do you
think we might by any chance?"

Siward noiselessly sank to his knees and crouched, keen eyes minutely
busy among the shadowy browns and greys of wet earth and withered leaf.
And after a while, cautiously, he signalled the girl to kneel beside
him, and stretched out one arm, forefinger extended.

"Sight straight along my arm," he said," as though it were a rifle
barrel."

Her soft cheek rested against his shoulder; a stray strand of shining
hair brushing his face.

"Under that bunch of fern," he whispered; "just the colour of the dead
leaves. Do you see? . Don't you see that big woodcock squatted flat,
bill pointed straight out and resting on the leaves?"

After a long while she saw, suddenly, and an exquisite little shock
tightened her fingers on Siward's extended arm.

"Oh, the feathered miracle!" she whispered; "the wonder of its
cleverness to hide like that! You look and look and stare, seeing it all
the while and not knowing that you see it. Then in a flash it is there,
motionless, a brown-shaped shadow among shadows. . The dear little
thing! . Mr. Siward, do you think--are you going to--"

"No, I won't shoot it."

"Thank you. . Might I sit here a moment to watch it?"