54 GAME-BIRDS AT HOME. 



Jack, coming down the hill on a gentle canter, 

 dropped as suddenly as if shot and lay with only 

 the tip of his nose above the grass. As we came 

 up, a grouse started like a rocket from a yard 

 ahead of him and whizzed upward as if bound for 

 the stars. My friend's first barrel abbreviated 

 the broad tail, and he caught the body with the 

 second as, high among the branches of an aged 

 oak, it was speeding its bobtailed career. As it 

 fell another bustled out of almost the very spot 

 from which the last one rose, and cleft the breeze 

 so fast that the shot from my gun was held back 

 by the air-waves from its rapid wings. (At least 

 that was my theory then, and if good enough for 

 me it is good enough for any reader. It doesn't 

 do to be too particular about some things.) 



Some ten minutes passed, and we found Frank 

 standing like a rock in the head of a ravine, with 

 Jack some thirty yards away, indorsing with his 

 most statuesque attitude Frank's draft on our 

 confidence. The aspen was trembling above 

 him, the ferns gently swaying in the breeze around 

 his nose, the blackberries and raspberries were 

 still bright on the bushes in the deep shade, but 

 other sign of life was none. We threw in stones, 



