OLD RECOLLECTIONS 267 



Jack's " services were required, it was no 

 use for one of the farm-hands to go into 

 his paddock for him. He might try to lure 

 him with the sieve half filled with oats ; all 

 the old pony would do was to kick at the 

 proffered dainty, and to tear all over his 

 small domain. If, however, his good old 

 master entered with his gun under his arm, 

 and " Don," the fine, double-nosed Spanish 

 pointer, with him, " Skip " knew that he was 

 going probably to have a good time of it, 

 and he would walk up, rub his nose against 

 the old gentleman, then snort and take a good 

 sniff at " Don" ; a pretty sight it was. Then, 

 all being ready, they started for one of the 

 stubble fields, a young acquaintance of my 

 own, who held the post of "sparrow-shooter," 

 running in advance to open the field gates, 

 and to carry the game in the net game-bag. 

 This youngster knew well where the coveys 

 fed, rested, and jugged for the night ; but this 

 knowledge was, as a rule, discreetly kept to 

 himself. 



Directly the stubbles are entered, Skip- Jack 

 becomes transformed, his eyes are on the pointer 

 at work, and he follows for the point, all without 

 a single word from the keen shot who is seated 



