74 AN OLD SPORTSMA.X. 



pools of water with rich black ooze on their 

 edges, make a splendid resort for game. Mr. 

 Callaghan is haunted with a notion that cocks 

 make up the chief fun of a sportsman, and 

 he is never wearied thrashing for these birds. 

 We got a couple of them before we had put 

 a mile behind us and our resting-place ; but 

 the snipe were rather wild, as they always are 

 after a grey frost. And now the day begins 

 to die ; and as the sun sinks, great banks of 

 mist creep in around us, and there is a chill 

 damp in the air presaging rain. The dogs, 

 too, are wearied and a bit footsore, for this 

 mountain work tells on them, and carries out 

 my pet theory that both pointers and setters 

 ought to be shod. Yet the willing brutes hold 

 out bravely at a word and gesture of encou- 

 ragement from Uncle Joe, who cheers them to 

 the beat from time to time, and who is himself 

 as fresh as when he started. The rain, how- 

 ever, begins to come on in earnest in an hour, 

 when indeed our bags are very reasonably full ; 

 and I have quite enough for consumption at 

 the Wisp and for importation to town, to 

 which I have faithfully promised to despatch 



