IN THE WAKE OF THE PARTRIDGE 191 



sit still till you almost step on them. But the 

 partridge thinks as he flies thinks to good 

 advantage. He seems to know what we expect 

 him to do, and then he does something else. 

 How many times have we gone past him when 

 he sat quietly between us, and then heard 

 him fly off stealthily down our back track! 

 How often, in a last desperate search for a 

 vanished bird, have I jumped on every felled 

 cedar top in a field except the one he was 

 under! How often have I broken open my 

 gun to climb a stone wall, for we are cau 

 tious folk, Jonathan and I, and, as I stood 

 in perilous balance, seen a great bird burst 

 out from under my very feet! How often 

 but I am not going to be tempted into telling 

 hunting-stories. For some reason or other, 

 hunting-stories chiefly interest the narrator. 

 I have watched sportsmen telling tales in the 

 evenings, and noted how every man but the 

 speaker grows restive as he watches for a 

 chance to get in his own favorite yarn. 



And it is not the partridges alone with whom 

 we grow acquainted. We have glimpses, too, 

 of the other outdoor creatures. The life of the 

 woods slips away from us as we pass, but only 



