They soon reached the spot where the flock had alighted, and after following up the tracks for a few yards further, set them up again. As the birds rose, the accountant fired and brought down two; Harry shot one and missed another; Hamilton being so nervously interested in the success of his comrades that he forgot to fire at all.
“How stupid of me!” he exclaimed, while the others loaded their guns.
“Never mind; better luck next time,” said Harry, as they resumed their walk. “I saw the flock settle down about half-a-mile in advance of us; so step out.”
Another short walk brought the sportsmen again within range.
“Go to the front, Hammy,” said the accountant, “and take the first shot this time.”
Hamilton obeyed. He had scarcely made ten steps in advance, when a single bird, that seemed to have been separated from the others, ran suddenly out from under a bush, and stood stock-still, at a distance of a few yards, with its neck stretched out and its black eyes wide open, as if in astonishment.
Hamilton was quite taken aback by the suddenness of this necessity for instantaneous action. Instead, therefore, of taking aim leisurely (seeing that he had abundant time to do so), he flew entirely to the opposite extreme, took no aim at all, and fired off both barrels at once, without putting the gun to his shoulder. The result of this was that the affrighted bird flew away unharmed, while Harry and the accountant burst spontaneously into fits of laughter.
“How very provoking!” said the poor youth, with a dejected look.
“Never mind—never say die—try again,” said the accountant, on recovering his gravity. Having reloaded, they continued the pursuit.
“Dear me!” exclaimed Harry, suddenly, “here are three dead birds.—I verily believe, Hamilton, that you have killed them all at one shot by accident.”
“Can it be possible?” exclaimed his friend, as with a look of amazement he regarded the birds.
There was no doubt about the fact. There they lay, plump and still warm, with one or two drops of bright red blood upon their white plumage. Ptarmigan are almost pure white, so that it requires a practised eye to detect them, even at a distance of a few yards; and it would be almost impossible to hunt them without dogs, but for the tell-tale snow, in which their tracks are distinctly marked, enabling the sportsman to follow them up with unerring certainty. When Hamilton made his bad shot, neither he nor his companions observed a group of ptarmigan not more than fifty yards before them, their attention being riveted at the time on the solitary bird; and the gun happening to be directed towards them when it was fired, three were instantly and unwittingly placed _hors de combat_, while the others ran away. This the survivors frequently do when very tame, instead of taking wing. Thus it was that Hamilton, to his immense delight, made such a successful shot without being aware of it.