116 A HUNDKED YEARS 



What a big pile it would make if all the black game I 

 shot there between 1855 and 1900 were gathered into one 

 heap ! Now, alas ! there are none, and why, who can 

 tell ? Shot was not long in finding one of the coveys 

 Big Sandy of the Geese had told us of. Up they got 

 in ones and twos, fat young cocks, with their plumage 

 half black and half brown. I blazed at them more than 

 once, but was so excited that I felt sure I could not have 

 hit anything. However, Shot, who was, as a matter 

 of fact, quite unbroken, tore off after them, and soon 

 returned with a fine young black-cock in his mouth; 

 of course, it was supposed I must have wounded him, 

 though there were no signs of any pellets. The next 

 covey Shot put up out of range of my poor little scatter 

 gun, but notwithstanding, he brought back another 

 young beauty and laid it at our feet. It seemed as if 

 my firing or not was quite a matter of indifference to 

 Shot. As for blue hares, even a well-grown leveret had 

 not a chance if Shot got a sight of it, unless it went to 

 ground, and then he would come and ask us to help him 

 to dig it out. If ever there was a real poacher, it was 

 Shot, so he was voted a very useful dog in helping to 

 make up a bag. We came home quite pleased with our- 

 selves, though we should not have thought much of the 

 day's work in the sixties and seventies, after the wild- 

 cats and foxes and the falcons and hoodies had been 

 mostly destroyed. 



The following year we returned again from Germany, 

 and I began rather to look down on Shot, and aspired 

 to getting a brace of properly broken pointers or setters. 

 Hearing of two for sale in Loch Broom — viz., at Foich 



