MALLARD SHOOTING IN ICE HOLES. 117 
his master. As the man stoops, the dog crouches 
lower, and neither look to the right or left, but gaze 
steadily ahead with increased interest, knowing with- 
outseeing, what they are approaching. When the hunter 
gets still lower and crawls along the ground, without 
looking around he reaches behind him, closes his 
fingers tightly together, drops his hand near the 
ground, reaches far back, shows his open palm to his 
silent companion, and thus conveys to him warning for 
greater caution. The dog understands this signal, and 
crouches still closer to the earth. Stealthily he steals 
and glides along, so low he cannot get lower without 
crawling, for te belly scrapes twigs and leaves 
and dead sticks. What an intent look in his quiet, de- 
termined faee! His tail, his pride, that has so often 
beat brush, grass, weeds and briar, when in the open 
field or murky swamp, now hangs behind him still and 
lifeless, lest its movement might disclose his master 
and himself; and then, when he reaches his master’s 
side, the anticipation of a hunter is felt by him: he be- 
comes inquisitive ; the quacking of the ducks is plain- 
ly heard; the dog is unable to resist the temptation, 
raises his head with eyes brightly beaming, looking as 
if they might almost burst from their sockets ; ; his ears 
bent forward listening for faintest sound; his teeth 
imperceptibly chatter as he tries in vain to curb his 
strong emotion. His master notes his excited state, 
quietly lays his strong hand on the intelligent brown 
head, tenderly pushes it down, while the dog casts on 
him a look of gentle reproach, while the love-light 
shines from his handsome eyes, as he looks into the 
eyes of his friend, his companion, his master, whom he 
would gladly die for. 
