THE QUAILS OF CALIFORNIA. 165 



the parting of a feather. There was a heavy 

 roar of wings again up the hill, and three more 

 birds rose around Jones, at which he pointed the 

 empty gun with great coolness and remarked ! 



"Confound your impudence: I'll get on to 

 you next time." 



By the time Jones reached the top of the hill 

 the birds were sounding their alarm-call sixty or 

 eighty yards down the slope on the other side. 

 I now told him he was not going fast enough 

 instead of too fast, and that the birds would run 

 away from him all day at that pace. The dog 

 seemed to care little what was the matter, and 

 took more interest in the shade of a handsome 

 live-oak that was nodding over the ridge than 

 in the birds or the movements of his master. 

 Jones, too, looked as if he did not relish the idea 

 of going any faster, for he was loaded down with 

 all sorts of clumsy nonsense when one should 

 wear the lightest dress for a race with these brill- 

 iant runners. Still he thought the advice good, 

 and started on a run down the hill. Before he 

 knew it the whole flock rose within twenty-five 

 yards in a big roaring sheet of dark blue. He 



