376 Sporting Sketches 



of other girls of the rational school the mothers 

 yet to be of a sturdy race, which, so long as it sticks 

 to the grand outdoors, will never lose its Anglo- 

 Saxon might. The gun upon her shoulder was as a 

 featherweight to that lithe, graceful figure, a toy to 

 the strong, small hands and firmly muscled arms. 



Where an old road traversed the swamp were our 

 vantage-points, and we took stands some fifty yards 

 apart. Boz had needed no instructions he was 

 already somewhere in the cover searching for a 

 fresh track. Lil brushed the snow from a log, rested 

 her gun against a sapling, and sat down ; I filled my 

 pipe and stood peering into the heavy brush. For 

 perhaps twenty minutes we waited, then a single 

 sharp bark came to us. Lil's clear soprano an- 

 swered with a cheery, far-reaching cry, then the dog 

 barked again. This was his signal that he had 

 located some trail worth following. Presently there 

 rose a sudden storm of music a confusion of dog- 

 language, as though a dozen canine tongues had 

 been loosed together ; then abrupt silence. 



" Look out he's started ! " I called, and the gray 

 figure straightened up, gun in hand. For a few 

 seconds we listened in vain, then came the welcome 

 message. Like the Switzer's call it clove the 

 snowy aisles of silence until the forest rang with 

 sweetest melody. Louder and clearer it swelled, till 

 one might well marvel that one small dog's throat 

 could cause it all. Then it muffled as he swept 

 through some hollow, only to rise and ring like a 

 bell that flings good news to a waiting host. It 

 was evident that Boz had got well away with his 

 game and was driving at top s'peed. A long cir- 



