202 The Grouse Family 



" Eastern woods, my boy, on turkeys and ruffed 

 grouse — got to skip around trees, drop to your 

 knees, shoot from hip, sometimes stand on your 

 head to see under cover," I retorted, laughing. 

 " Now, let's have a bite and proceed ; but first a 

 health to that sneaking fowl, for he cost me a 

 gun." 



" Here's to him, for he cost me a gun," said my 

 friend. 



I noticed the slip, but it appeared to require no 

 comment, so we ate our sandwiches and prepared 

 for the back track. 



When we were all ready, my comrade drew 

 himself up very straight, and remarked, " I'm a 

 poor liar — that gun's yours — you killed that 

 other bird." 



" Wh-a-a-t ? " I gasped, for his face showed that 

 he meant what he said. 



" I feel like a cur — forgive me ; let's go get it, 

 I marked it down," he continued. 



I felt something like a huskie myself, and 

 wished the bird was in Hades, but he insisted on 

 going after it, so we went. And a peculiar thing 

 happened. He had marked that bird as only a 

 man trained on the plains can mark, and he led 

 the way for two hundred yards and more, straight 

 to where the ground was furrowed by what ap- 

 peared to be several small, caved-in tunnels, about 

 big enough for badger-works. Near these, he 



