396 AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING 
ponds and by low, rounded hills, covered to the sum- 
mit with the tapering firs. The lakelets are bright with 
the white and yellow water-lilies ; between the summits 
of the bold headlands along the coast glimpses are had 
of the restless Atlantic. All these natural beauties, 
combined with the excitement of the sport, furnish to 
the lover of nature a day of rapturous enjoyment. 
It is a thrilling moment to the sportsman when, gun 
in hand and dog at foot, he finds himself among the 
partridge coverts. His faithful dog scents the game, 
and every nerve in his frame quivers as, step by step, 
he thoughtfully and cautiously advances toward the 
unseen covey; then, suddenly pausing, the right fore 
paw balanced lightly, and every limb and muscle tense 
and rigid, the beautiful animal is at once transformed 
into a marble statue. Presently a whirr is heard, and 
with a loud ca, ca, ca, a magnificent old cock rises on 
the wing. Crack goes the gun, and down tumbles the 
great bird, the scarlet tips over his eyes glistening like 
rubies, as with a thud that gladdens the sportsman’s 
heart he strikes the earth. Or perhaps a whole family 
—father, mother and children—trises at once, and the 
double barrels bang at them right and left, bringing 
down two or three brace. 
At times a late covey is started, the chickens of which 
are only two or three weeks old, just able to run smartly 
along the ground. It is a touching sight then to see 
the cock fearlessly exposing his life to save the lives 
of his offspring. He tumbles along the ground a few 
yards in advance of the dogs, rolling there in order 
