102 WILD FOWL SUOOTING. 
seemed almost touching his side. But look ! He moves! 
The snipe has skulked away from his first hiding 
place, emboldened by the silence of the pointing dog. 
Skulk, glide, steal away, my eccentric friend ; the nos- 
trils once filled with your delicate scent will not give 
you up, but will follow you tirelessly, until you attempt 
to escape with your swift moving wings. Slowly, cau- 
tiously, never for an instant relaxing the vigor, the 
stiffness of the muscles of his body, the dog creeps for- 
ward. How quietly he moves; how gently, how noise- 
lessly, he puts down first one foot and then the other 
in the soft soil. He fears almost to put them down, 
least the grating of his feet and legs on the dried grass 
should arouse the bird. He is moving ina westerly 
direction now, and the breeze will aid him in the scent. 
Apparently the bird is some thirty feet ahead of him. 
The cross wind blowing from the south brings a new 
scent to him. Quick as lightning he turns his head to 
the left, dropping his head, and crouching still lower, 
he points a bird within ten feet of him. 
Ned could stand it no longer, and with flushed face, 
and eyes filled with brightness, enthusiastically ex- 
claimed, “Splendid! grand! I never saw a dog work 
like that. Do you know, Will, from the time the dog 
first winded that bird, I never took my eyes off him, 
and when he pointed, then roaded, then pointed again, 
I most felt that I could smell the snipe; but when he 
came to the second bird, and twisted his head so sud- 
denly, I felt the cold chills run down my _ back, 
and . 
“Great Scott,” exclaimed Ned, as a snipe got up 
right under his feet, which he knocked over within 
ten yards of him. 
