G2 KRIDER'S SrORTING ANECDOTES. 



The pointer as was his wont when close on 

 his game stood with one foot raised and his 

 body half bent, the loose skin on his forehead 

 corrugated into what we are wont to call an in- 

 fallible wrinkle, beneath which his large, full 

 eyes were immovably fixed on the rushes before 

 him, with a stare half knostic, half grim, like that 

 of a priest on his tripod about to announce to 

 some trembling expectant the shadows of a pre- 

 destined doom. 



The setter was a few paces behind, equally 

 firm in his posture, though his gaze was more 

 inquisitive and less concentrated, and he held his 

 head higher, as if looking over the pointer's stern. 

 They did not appear to breathe ; not a muscle of 

 their bodies moved ; the withered herbage rustled 

 softly in the wind, which played with the long 

 winter feathers of the rough dog's coat, but no 

 stone bastion could have been steadier, and the 

 very lines of his jowls were as fixed and deter- 

 minate, as the circumvallations round the ram- 

 part of some bristling fortress. 



Simultaneously we made two strides into the 

 low cover; not a feather showed itself; a step 

 farther, and, uttering their peculiar alarm notes, 

 six or seven snipe sprung within as many feet of 

 us, and darted in crooked lines up the meadow; 



