At last it died away again, and General Murgatroyd said, ‘Well, the drive’s over. You can get up now, if you like.’ Jane endeavoured to stand, but her legs would hardly carry her. After rubbing them for a bit she was just able to stagger out of the butt. She saw all around her the same band of peasants that had met them when they left the ’bus earlier that morning. Most of them were carrying dead grouse and picking up others.
‘How kind!’ she thought. ‘The general has taken pity on the poor creatures and given them permission to gather the birds for their evening meal. He must really be nicer than he looks.’
Thinking of the evening meal made Jane realize that she was extremely hungry. ‘Luncheon time soon, I expect.’ She glanced at her watch. Only eleven o’clock! It must have stopped. Still ticking, though. Perhaps the hands had got stuck. She asked Admiral Wenceslaus the time.
‘Nearly eleven, by Jove! We shall have to show a leg if we’re to get in two more drives before lunch.’
Jane could hardly restrain her tears on hearing this. She sat hopelessly on a rock, while the rest of the party wandered about the heather looking for dead grouse.
When one of them found a bird he would whistle up his dog and point to the little corpse saying, ‘Seek hard,’ and making peculiar noises in his throat. The dog would occasionally pick it up and give it into his master’s hand, but more often would sniff away in another direction, in which case its master seized it by the scruff of the neck, rubbed its nose into the bird and gave it a good walloping.
Jane began to realize the full significance of the expression ‘a dog’s life’.
Lady Prague, who also strode about searching for grouse, presently came up to where Jane was sitting upon her rock, and asked why she didn’t help.
‘Because even if I did find a bird no bribe would induce me to touch it,’ said Jane rather rudely, looking at Lady Prague’s bloodstained hands.
In time the birds were all collected and hung upon the back of a small pony, and the party began to walk towards the butts from which the next drive was to take place. These were dimly visible on the side of the opposite mountain, and appeared to be a great distance away.
Jane walked by herself in a miserable silence, carefully watching her feet. In spite of this she fell down continually. The others were all talking and laughing over incidents of the drive. Jane admired them for keeping up their spirits in such circumstances. Their jokes were incomprehensible to her.
‘I saw you take that bird of mine, old boy, but I wiped your eye twice, you know. Ha! Ha!’
‘That dog o’ yours has a good nose for other people’s birds. Ha! Ha!’
‘D’you remember poor old Monty at that very drive last year? All he shot was a beater and a bumble-bee.’
‘Ah, yes! Poor Monty, poor Monty. Ha, ha, ha!’
The walk seemed endless. They came to a river which everyone seemed able to cross quite easily by jumping from stone to stone except Jane, who lost her balance in the middle and was obliged to wade. The water was ice-cold and came to her waist, but was not at first unpleasant, her feet were hot and sore, and both her ankles were swollen. Presently, however, the damp stockings began to rub her heels and every step became agony.
When they finally reached the butts Jane felt that she was in somewhat of a quandary. With whom ought she to sit this time? She hardly liked to inflict herself on General Murgatroyd again. Lord Prague and Captain Chadlington had their wives with them, and the admiral and Mr Buggins were so very far ahead that she knew she would never have time to catch them up. She looked round rather helplessly, and saw standing near her one of the strangers who had come over for the day. As he was young and had a kind face, she ventured to ask if she might sit with him during the next drive. He seemed quite pleased and, making her a comfortable seat with his coat and cartridge bag, actually addressed her as if she were a human being. Jane felt really grateful: no one had so far spoken a word to her, except Lady Prague and General Murgatroyd, and they only from a too evident sense of duty.
The young man, whose name was Lord Alfred Sprott, asked if there was a cheery crowd at Dalloch Castle. Jane, more loyally than truthfully, said, ‘Yes, a very cheery crowd.’ She hoped that it was cheery where he was staying, too? He replied that it was top-hole, only a little stalking lodge, of course, but very cosy and jolly, quite a picnic. He told her some of the jolly jokes they had there. Jane, in her bemused condition, found him most entertaining; she laughed quite hysterically, and was sorry when the birds began to fly over them, putting an end to conversation.
In spite, however, of this spiritual sunshine Jane soon began to feel colder and more miserable even than before, and greatly looked forward
