240 Sporting Sketches 



some fifty yards away. " By George ! he's right ; 

 out you go, little un. Walk straight for him and 

 be ready, for he'll flush before you're halfway 

 there," directed Monroe, and away I went. " Bet 

 you a dozen cigars he misses," muttered Thompson, 

 and " Done ! " said Monroe. 



A slight movement in the brush had told me 

 exactly where to look, and I worried not at all. 

 Three pairs of eyes were watching every movement, 

 and above all I desired to favorably impress those 

 microscopic black ones. A big sharp-tail rose at 

 about twenty yards and went buzzing to the right, 

 and I cut the head off it. " Ah ! " said Monroe, as 

 he saw it, and a few moments later Thompson mut- 

 tered : " I think he meant it, but wait awhile. That's 

 my gun he's got and mebbe she don't just fit." An- 

 other " solitary " was presently spied, flushed, and 

 knocked down, but a something in its abrupt fall 

 hinted of a " butted " wing. As feared, only a few 

 mottled feathers marked the spot, but aid came 

 from an unexpected quarter. " Me gettum stan' 

 dur no move ! " rumbled a deep voice, and Batteese 

 slipped past and seemed fairly to glide over the grass 

 toward some larger growth fully sixty yards off. At 

 its edge he halted for many seconds, then suddenly 

 flung himself with arms outstretched upon a tangle 

 of dwarf stuff. When he got upon his feet a whirl 

 of brown and white told the story. " Good eye, 

 Batteese ! " grunted Thompson, and we moved on. 

 " If that had been a Bob White or a ruffed grouse," 

 he continued," even Batteese's searchlights might not 

 have located it. He never saw -a Bob White, but " 

 (turning to the Breed) " s'posen' dat one birch par- 



