358 Sporting Sketches 



" Bad for eyes snow bad enough now," I re- 

 torted, as I put away the flask, for Jo's eyes seemed 

 to say that if I didn't intend to take any, he might 

 as well have my share. But that was not in order. 



Instead of moving forward, he smiled and pointed 

 at the snow. " Thur," was all he said. 



I looked and saw one, two, three a dozen tiny 

 trails, as though elfin snow-shoers had passed that 

 way. They were queer little tracks, roundish, in- 

 distinct, running in single lines, the rear rim of one 

 almost overlapping the fore rim of another. Never 

 had I beheld the like. By the size of them their 

 makers should have been of considerable weight, 

 yet they barely dented the snow. Their arrange- 

 ment was grouse-like, and in a moment I had it. 

 Nothing but the wonderful show-shoe foot of the 

 ptarmigan could leave a trail like that. 



" Snow-grouse white eh ? " I asked. 



He nodded. 



" Fresh where'bouts ? " I continued. 



" Look look lot," he replied. 



A twinkle in his eye warned me that I had better 

 be mighty careful, and I felt certain he had already 

 seen the birds. But where? Standing perfectly 

 still, I first scanned the snowy trees. Nothing there. 

 Then, remembering the ways of the quail and the 

 many times I had detected birds upon the ground 

 ahead of the dogs, I began a close scrutiny of the 

 snow a few yards ahead. Presently a shiny ebon 

 point caught my eye, then a dull point equally 

 black then, as if my eyes had suddenly become 

 properly focussed, I made out the.soft, white, pigeon- 

 like form of a ptarmigan crouched upon the snow. 



