106 A MEDLEY OF SPORT 



tangle of wild vines and creepers, and despatched with 

 a knock on the head by my companion, who remarked, 

 " Guess you wouldn't make your ' pile ' porcupine 

 catching," as he hocked the kill and hung it on the branch 

 of a pine-tree to be called for on the return journey. I 

 " guessed " likewise, and started along the bank of the 

 brook again. 



For perhaps a mile, with the exception of a few shriek- 

 ing jays and a black woodpecker, not a " feather " was 



moved, but, when rounding a curve of the stream, G 



clutched my sleeve and whispered, " Look under yonder 

 shelving bank ; wood-duck." Scarcely were the words 

 uttered when a couple of those beautiful duck rose from 

 the opposite bank of the stream. Singling out the leading 

 bird, I fired ; but to my disgust the shot-pellets struck 

 the water a good foot below it, and before I could get 

 in the second barrel the duck had passed out of sight 



round the curve of the brook. H managed to stop 



the other, however, and a few moments later old Jake 

 laid it at his master's feet with scarcely a feather dis- 

 placed. 



We had not long entered the first patch of bush grow- 

 ing on what G facetiously called the " grouse- 

 moor," when the dog flushed from a bed of whortleberries 

 four ruffed grouse {Bonasia umbellus), or, as my Canadian 

 friend had them, pheasants. The grouse rose within 



easy shot, and G killed a fine old cock in magnificent 



plumage with his " single " 10-bore ; but once more I 

 missed clean with my first barrel, and only succeeded in 



