THE RUFFED GROUSE. 55 



but nothing moved. We then tried to make one 

 of the dogs flush the game, but neither would 

 move an inch. At the risk of losing a shot I 

 went in, for the ravine was steep-sided and deep. 

 A few feet ahead of the dog I slipped and fell, 

 and in a twinkling the air above seemed alive with 

 spinning lines of white and whizzing belts of 

 black and brown mixed in a whirl that made the 

 air tremble even more than my companion's gun 

 that was spouting fire over my head. I sprung 

 to my feet too late to catch the fire of his second 

 barrel in my ear, but just in time to see two 

 grouse vanishing through two distant openings 

 in the heavy foliage. Both were almost out of 

 shot, and to catch either at the speed it was going 

 called for marvelous quickness. How I unloaded 

 a barrel of my gun at each before I had fairly 

 caught my feet is a question on which I have 

 ever remained in blissful ignorance. And you, 

 dear reader, must remain in blissful ignorance of 

 the results, for as a matter of pure business I can- 

 not afford to imperil my reputation for veracity 

 by telling you. 



The grouse were soon so scattered that we 

 went in search of a new flock, which was then 



