“You and Shiela!” called out Cardross as they trotted up, guns resting on their thighs.  “Gray and I’ll pick up the singles.”

The girl sprang to the ground, gun poised; Hamil followed her, and they walked across the sandy open where scarcely a tuft of dead grass bristled.  It seemed impossible that any living creature bigger than an ant could conceal itself on that bare, arid sand stretch, but the ticked dog was standing rigid, nose pointing almost between his forefeet, and the red dog was backing him, tail like a ramrod, right forefoot doubled, jaws a-slaver.

The girl glanced sideways at Hamil mischievously.

“What are we shooting for, Mr. Hamil?”

“Anything you wish,” he said, “but it’s yours anyway—­all I can give.  I suppose I’m going to miss.”

“No; you mustn’t.  If you’re out of practice remember to let them get well away.  And I won’t shoot a match with you this time.  Shall I flush?”

“I’ll put them up.  Are you ready?”

“Quite, thank you.”

He stepped up beside the ticked dog, halted, took one more step beyond—­whir-r-r! and the startled air was filled with wings; and crack! crack! crack-crack! spoke the smokeless powder.

Two quail stopped in mid-air and pitched downward.

“O Lord!” said Hamil, “they’re not my birds.  Shiela, how could you do such a thing under my very nose and in sight of your relatives and three unfeeling guides!”

“You poor boy’” she said, watching the bevy as he picked up the curious, dark, little Florida quail and displayed them.  Then, having marked, she quietly signalled the dogs forward.

“I’m not going,” he said; “I’ve performed sufficiently.”

She was not quite sure how much of disappointment lay under his pretence, and rather shyly she suggested that he redeem himself.  Gray and his father were walking toward one dog who was now standing; two quail flushed and both fell.

“Come,” she said, laying her hand lightly on his arm; “Ticky is pointing and I will have you redeem yourself.”

So they went forward, shoulder to shoulder; and three birds jumped and two fell.

“Bravo!” she exclaimed radiantly; “I knew my cavalier after all!”

“You held your fire,” he said accusingly.

“Ye-s.”

“Why?”

“Because—­if you—­” She raised her eyes half serious, half mockingly:  “Do you think I care for—­anything—­at your expense?”

A thrill passed through him.  “Do you think I mind if you are the better of us, you generous girl?”

“I am not a better shot; I really am not....  Look at these birds—­both cocks.  Are they not funny—­these quaint little black quail of the semi-tropics?  We’ll need all we can get, too.  But now that you are your resistless self again I shall cease to dread the alternative of starvation or a resort to alligator tail.”