The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 



of apple trees in England. We were 



v fart too and although Johnny was a 



walkmg fast *> a was amazing ho w 



SrSco^d the' ground; so much so, 

 Si had to put my best leg forward to enable 

 P tn keep up with him at all. 

 Suddenly we came to a deep gulch or ravine, 

 heavUy timbered with spruce and birch trees. 

 There was plenty of fresh spoor, the tracks cross- 

 ing each other frequently. We followed a game 

 track down one side of the gulch, crossing a small 

 stream at the bottom, then scrambled up 

 far side at our best pace. It was my best pace, 

 at any rate, for my heart was going like a sledge- 

 hammer, and it was a case of ' bellows to 

 mend " before I got to the top. Here we entered 

 upon another barren, but before leaving the 

 shelter afforded by the timber, hastily glanced 

 around lest there should be game afoot, 

 wind was right, blowing directly into our faces, 

 so we made a bee-line for a hill we had seen when 

 spying from the knoll. 



Now our pace slackened, the ground being 

 considerably more broken and irregular. We 

 came at last to a rise, dropping on to our hands 

 and knees, and crawling very carefully so as to 

 look over the top. Johnny, who was in front 

 of me, suddenly bobbed out of sight; then 

 together we peered on all sides carefully, heads 

 level with the ground. In front of us the ground 



