360 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



ing a "cur" into the field, slandering the poor dog,, 

 until I feared Wilcox would leave me disgusted. 

 Colonel had been walking behind us coolly and silently ; 

 the other dogs were chasing one another without 

 method, without system. I turned to Colonel and 

 casting on him one of the friendly smiles I always take 

 with me for a dog I like, motioned him to " hie on/' 

 He shot forward like a rocket, and through stubble, 

 brush and briar, over the hillsides, across the creek, 

 and through the stubble, he who was despised in the 

 car now led the van. And then, when the birds were- 

 found, he stood as if carved of stone, until we were 

 near and ordered him on. Then when we shot the 

 first bird, how tenderly he brought it in. Poor crippled 

 bird, its broken wing hanging down so limp, and its 

 love of freedom still exerted in trying to escape from 

 those firm jaws ; how it beat its well wing against his 

 black nose; then when Colonel neared us, with 

 the struggling bird in his mouth, he turned quickly 

 and pointed another quail in the grass, right at Wil- 

 cox's feet. One hundred dollars was offered and refused 

 for a u cur " that day, and the life-blood trickled faster 

 and warmer in two hearts, when Colonel brought me 

 the quail, his face beaming with satisfaction, while 

 I read his thoughts in his eyes, and I felt sure he 

 did mine. Well, well ! Colonel, if we secretly re- 

 joiced that day we had reason to. 



As a duck retriever he was perfection, all the good 

 qualities of one he possessed. He was alive to every 

 interest of his master, would mark the different spots 

 where the birds fell, and his keen eyes were never late 

 in spying a flock, as they started to come in. He needed 

 no urging to do his work, and in sunshine or rain r 



