QUAIL-HUNTING ON THE KAW. 79 



An' then the thievin' rascal cursed, 



An' threw his life away, 

 He said, " Just pony out your worst, 



Your best would be foul play." 



Then judge he frowned an awful frown, 



An' snapped this sentence short, 

 " Jones, twitch the rope, an' write this down, 



Hung for contempt of court ! " 



Sharp 8 next morning saw us on the road leading 

 east of town, the two dogs with us, and a young one 

 additional, the property of a resident sportsman. 

 Our last acquisition joined us on the run, and kept 

 on it all day, going over the ground with the speed 

 of a greyhound, his fine nose, however, giving him 

 better success than his reckless pace would have 

 indicated. 



Three miles from town, or half way between it 

 and Tecumseh, our party left the wagon, with direc- 

 tion for it to follow the road, while we scouted along 

 on a parallel, following the river bank. 



The Kaw stretched eastward, broad and shallow, 

 with numerous sand bars, and along its edges grew 

 the scarlet sumach and some stunted bushes, and 

 between these and the corn a high, coarse bottom 

 grass, with intervals at every hundred yards or so 

 apart of a shorter variety, like that on a poor prairie. 

 Among the bushes, there was no grass whatever, 

 and yet the birds seemed indifferently to frequent 

 one spot equally with another. 



In less than ten minutes after leaving the wagon, 

 all the dogs were pointing on a barren looking spot, 



