1 68 CAME-BIRDS AT HOME, 



"You don't understand them. You could 

 have got fifty single shots in going this far. 

 But I will show you something better,*' I said. 



Quarter of a mile away and some three hun- 

 dred feet below us lay a long, narrow little 

 valley, partly filled with clumps of prickly-pear 

 from five to fifteen feet across and from three to 

 eight feet high, lying between low hills quite 

 bare of cover for some distance. We could see 

 dark dots moving swiftly over the patches of 

 green grass in the openings, and the soft call 

 the quail gives when not alarmed came to us on 

 the breeze. 



Jones was horrified at my suggesting a hunt in 

 that stuff, as most novices give up the quails at 

 once when they fly to such cover. But it is 

 often the best of ground, as the birds will not 

 leave it when surrounded by bare hills, but will 

 fly to and fro in it all day. That is, they once 

 did so. There was always plenty of bare ground 

 between the clumps of the cactus for good walk- 

 ing, and to land the birds on it doubled the skill 

 required to make a good bag. 



Even before we had entered the ground we 

 heard the sharp WJiit — ivJiit — zvJiit — zvJiit of 



