The Ruffed Grouse 125 



came back with a bobtailed grouse, which he 

 passed round for inspection. The big ball had 

 hit it squarely in the rump, carrying away inches of 

 the back and most of the intestines ; the legs hung 

 by mere shreds of skin and flesh, yet the bird had 

 flown fully twenty yards, and finished its trip upon 

 dead, set wings. 



The other shot was different, but with the same 

 rifle, which, by the way, had a tinkered stock with 

 a shotgun plate for quick work. The party had 

 insisted upon one day's hounding, and knowing 

 my penchant for still hunting, had sent me off to 

 a small island, a mere rock, where, as the judge 

 said, " It would be good and still all day." The 

 chances were a thousand to one against any deer 

 coming to that rock, but they had been known to 

 take that course, so there was need of a guard. 

 For hours there was nothing doing. The dogs 

 were clanging through the woods far to the east- 

 ward, while a lazy man lay and stared at the 

 dreamy landscape, or played with the wintergreen 

 which matted his couch. 



At last something did come — a big grouse, 

 presumably after wintergreen. He lit on a short 

 stub, at once saw the enemy, and promptly drew 

 himself up and stiffened. He never moved while 

 the rifle was brought to the ready, then he sud- 

 denly discovered gold quartz, and set off to file 

 his claim, or something. He went as only a 



