A Day on Bear Brook. 



Suddenly the noise ceased, and I knew she had him nailed and 

 that I would soon have another chance to try my skill on the 

 old fellow. I heard the patter of her feet again, as she moved 

 up on him. The old deceiver was making a run for it before 

 taking to wing. Then there was another silence and I held 

 my breath, for I knew what was sure to follow. A breathless 

 silence of a few seconds; then a faint "Quit-quit!" a roar of 

 wings, and the bird broke cover on the extreme point of the 

 thicket. The instant the cunning old cock struck the open he 

 circled short to the right around a point of brush, to shield him- 

 self. He was just disappearing behind a tree-top as I caught a 

 bead well ahead and fired through the leaves. A moment of 

 listening suspense, and I heard the welcome thud of the dead 

 bird as he struck the ground. To say that I was pleased 

 would be putting it too mildly. I walked around the end of 

 the brush and met faithful Queen, with the bird in her mouth. 

 Taking him from her, I smoothed down his glossy brown coat 

 and slipped him into my pocket with a feeling that this alone 

 was glory enough for one day. He was a magnificent bird, the 

 largest and finest I had ever seen, and I have hunted the ruffed 

 grouse since early boyhood. He occupied the place of honor 

 on our dinner table next day, and his tail was tacked up over 

 the desk in my library, where it remained for many years. 



Sports Afield. 



I 158| 



