62 AN OLD SPORTSMAN. 



far a genuine sportsman that he did not believe 

 in any shooting without the aid of a dog. 



We never cared even to walk up snipe. Our 

 dogs were trained to examine the marshes as 

 cautiously as though they were travelling over 

 eggs ; and, strange to say, by judicious manage- 

 ment, this did not spoil them for wider ranges on 

 the mountain, when wide ranges were necessary. 

 We generally kept four dogs altogether; a 

 brace of veterans and a couple of puppies in 

 their first or second season. Don, a huge setter, 

 so old that I should be afraid to give his age, 

 was our chief workman. Don was a most saga- 

 cious brute, as fond of shooting as we were 

 ourselves, enjoying it quite as much. He 

 scorned to make mistakes. He knew the 

 fields and quarters where we expected good 

 fortunes, at a glance, and would not be 

 bothered in searching those he put no faith in. 

 And we invariably trusted him. My uncle 

 would as soon lay a whip on the back of the 

 faithful Sullivan as on the back of Don. Flirt 

 was a brindled pointer, small, active, and rather 

 fidgety, with a nose so keen and nervous that 

 you could almost see the scent, as it were, 



