Now they are on the very fringe of the darker green of the hollow; our
centre guns have them at their mercy. Don't they see them? Yes; two
figures rise from the rank weeds, and flashing barrels enfilade the
flock. One, two, three, four reports ring out; but ... not a bird comes
down, the frightened monsters spread asunder, winging a quicker flight
in all directions. One huge _barbudo_ behind the rest wheels back and
almost gives us a chance as he takes the hill in reverse; but he sees
the danger and passes to the right, swerving in his course too near our
_vis-a-vis_, and before we hear the report we can see the ponderous mass
of 30lbs. of bustard collapse. He is struck well forward, in head and
neck, and pitches heavily earthwards, splitting his broad chest as it
rebounds from the unyielding soil. We had--and that by sheer chance--a
single head to show for this carefully-planned drive.