INCITEMENT
We were on our way down to the little wood to take our stands when we met the boy carrying the basket with the rabbit in it. 'You mustn't let that one out,' said my companion. The boy grinned. 'It's a Chin- chilla,' he said, implying that we might know that such a bundle of fluff would hardly survive long enough to stock even one burrow with its kind. 'You after pheasants?' he asked. We shook our heads. 'Plenty in there,' he said, indicating the wood and holding his rabbit for it to be admired. 'You could git 'alf a dozen in no time.' Considering that the keeper's house was but ten yards away we thought this very bold advice on his part. 'Oh,' said the boy, `you needn't worry about 'im. Gone into town wi"is missus. I'd do it, if I was you.' We smiled, but it was plain that he took us for very timid specimens of mankind. Who would shoot pigeons when they could have pheasant and the coast clear? As it happened a gale-force wind whipped the pigeons out of danger
before we could get more than a brace, and in the meantime the pheasants stole silently away through the brushwood.
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