SPRUCE GROUSE 7 



little schoolhouse had been crowded up against 

 the wall of the woods. A knot of squealing 

 youngsters, wild with excitement, were danc- 

 ing around two of the older boys who, armed 

 with a Fourth of July cannon made of a .45 

 calibre shell wired upon a block of wood, were 

 trying to down a cock spruce grouse which was 

 scolding and strutting on a bough about ten 

 feet from the ground. Never did a gun crew 

 work more earnestly. Powder, turned into the 

 arm with trembling hands, was wadded with 

 long moss from the nearest tree — the projectile 

 the first pebble that would fit its muzzle. Then 

 one gunner gripped the block tightly and aimed 

 while the other scratched a match and applied it 

 to the touchhole. Bang! Wild screeches and 

 uproar! But Mr. Grouse merely gave his tail 

 another flirt and continued to strut. Now, any 

 boy present could have ''fix:ed him" at the first 

 attempt with a rock, but no, — they were sports- 

 men raised in a sportsman's country and they 

 were going to shoot him or lose him like gentle- 

 men and thus be true to Dead River traditions. 

 So the war went on until a lucky shot tumbled 

 the bird from his perch minus half his head. 

 Because of the distance of their haunts from 



