124 A Day with the Grouse. 



dropped headlong through a thorn-bush, 

 and struck the ground with a thump, 

 leaving a few loose feathers hanging 

 lightly among the twigs, while dried thorn- 

 leaves rattled down from limb to limb as 

 they followed the bird. The empty shell 

 in the gun was quickly replaced by a 

 loaded one and Don was given the order 

 to fetch. How proudly he came trotting 

 toward us, tossing the prize upward in 

 order to get a better hold as he ran, and 

 at the same time being careful not to muss 

 the feathers. His eyes were not for a 

 moment taken from the limp grouse in 

 my hand until its tail had disappeared in 

 the capacious hunting-coat pocket. 



Along the edge of a buckwheat stubble 

 both dogs worked ambitiously back and 

 forth, following first one trail and then 

 another until we were convinced that a 

 whole covey of grouse had been gleaning 

 there and that their tracks were so inter- 

 mingled that the dogs had a difficult riddle 

 to solve. We were making a wide detour 

 of the field when it was noticed all at once 

 that Belle was standing on a "dead point" 



