Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
Thump! Thump!
All around us the pheasants were starting to rain down out of the trees. We began rushing around madly in the dark, sweeping the ground with our flashlights.
Thump! Thump! Thump! This lot fell almost on top of me. I was right under the tree as they came down and I found all three of them immediately – two cocks and a hen. They were limp and warm, the feathers wonderfully soft in the hand.
‘Where shall I put them?’ I called out. I was holding them by the legs.
‘Lay them here, Gordon! Just pile them up here where it’s light!’
Claud was standing on the edge of the clearing with the moonlight streaming down all over him and a great bunch of pheasants in each hand. His face was bright, his eyes big and bright and wonderful, and he was staring around him like a child who has just discovered that the whole world is made of chocolate.
Thump!
Thump! Thump!
‘I don’t like it,’ I said. ‘It’s too many.’
‘It’s beautiful!’ he cried and he dumped the birds he was carrying and ran off to look for more.
Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!
Thump!
It was easy to find them now. There were one or two lying under every tree. I quickly collected six more, three in each hand, and ran back and dumped them with the others. Then six more. Then six more after that.
And still they kept falling.
Claud was in a whirl of ecstasy now, dashing about like a mad ghost under the trees. I could see the beam of his flashlight waving around in the dark and each time he found a bird he gave a little yelp of triumph.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
‘That bugger Hazel ought to hear this!’ he called out.
‘Don’t shout,’ I said. ‘It frightens me.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Don’t shout. There might be keepers.’
‘Screw the keepers!’ he cried. ‘They’re all eating!’
For three or four minutes, the pheasants kept on falling. Then suddenly they stopped.
‘Keep searching!’ Claud shouted. ‘There’s plenty more on the ground!’
‘Don’t you think we ought to get out while the going’s good?’
‘No,’ he said.
We went on searching. Between us we looked under every tree within a hundred yards of the clearing, north, south, east, and west, and I think we found most of them in the end. At the collecting-point there was a pile of pheasants as big as a bonfire.
‘It’s a miracle,’ Claud was saying. ‘It’s a bloody miracle.’ He was staring at them in a kind of trance.
‘We’d better just take half a dozen each and get out quick,’ I said.
‘I would like to count them, Gordon.’