THE DOGS 



man who discovers that he has on shoes of the wrong 

 colour. It isn't done, you know. 



Consider then Wayward and Girlie in a country 

 full of game birds. They quarter wide to right, 

 then cross to left, their heads high, their feather 

 tails waving in the most approved good form. When 

 they find birds they draw to their points in the 

 best possible style; stiffen out and wait. It is 

 now, according to all good ethics, up to the Man. 

 And the Man and his companions go right on by, 

 paying absolutely no attention either to the situation 

 or our own magnificent piece of work! What is one 

 to conclude? That our early training is all wrong? 

 that we are at one experience to turn apostate to the 

 settled and only correct order of things ? Or that 

 our masters are no gentlemen. That is a pretty 

 difficult thing, an impossible thing, to conclude of 

 one's own master. But it leaves one in a fearful 

 state mentally; and one has no idea of what to do! 



Wayward was a perfect gentleman, and he played 

 the game according to the very best traditions. 

 He conscientiously pointed every bird he could get 

 his nose on. Furthermore he was absolutely staunch 

 and held his point even when the four non-bird dogs 

 rushed in ahead of him. The expression of puzzle- 

 ment, grief, shock and sadness in his eyes deepened 

 as bird after bird soared awav without a shot. 



