A DAY AFTER PTARMIGAN 117 



pussy hare would remain in its rock fastness 

 before venturing forth again. 



We then retraced our steps ; by this time 

 it was about one-thirty, and so far not a chance 

 of ptarmigan had come my way. The best 

 of the day was over, for gently and greyly an 

 insidious mist began creeping in and around 

 us which did not tend to improve our chances. 

 J ust before we sat down by a green velvet spring 

 for our luncheon, a ptarmigan whizzed aero . , 

 me, going downwind like a streak of lightning ; 

 of course I let drive, and of course I missed. 

 However, I knew that the most likely ground 

 still lay before us, so, after a hasty snack, off we 

 went to work the southern face of the beat. 



There was no further temptation to stop 

 and spy for deer ; the mist had blotted every- 

 thing but a few yards out. 



How often on a brilliant September day had 

 I been all over this ground when I could have 

 knocked ptarmigan on the head with my stick 

 as they ran chirruping among the stones, mak- 

 ing that funny little noise that reminds one 

 of children playing " Chuckie." But that is 



