THE RUFFED-GROUSE 93 



it. There is a chance for the exercise of much skill 

 and intelligence on the part of the man and dog, and 

 they who know best the particular localities in the vast 

 forests frequented by the birds, and who can go to 

 them most quickly and quietly, who in a word, can find 

 and approach the game the best, will make the largest 

 bags. I have known of a bag of twenty or more birds 

 in a day, but as I have observed, a smaller bag is the 

 rule. Forester records a bag of seven birds made by 

 two guns in four days of resolute fagging with two 

 brace of setters, as good, he says, as any in the country, 

 and announced he never would go again in pursuit of 

 these birds. For my part I am especially fond of a 

 ramble in the forest, no matter what may be the 

 result. 



Much pleasure is derived from seeing the dogs 

 repeatedly point birds in the open ; there is fair sport in 

 shooting at the prairie-grouse late in September, when 

 they fly swiftly, and when fifty, one hundred, or even 

 more shots are often fired in a day. But the ramble in 

 the forest has its magic charm not to be found in the 

 prairie. There is " a pleasure in the pathless woods." 

 The magnificent colors of the autumn trees are over- 

 hung with the blue veil of the Indian summer. The 

 breeze soughing in the branches does not mar the 

 restful quiet. The solemnity is pleasing, quieting, 

 and causes one to rejoice that he is far from the 

 noisy rattle of the town. So still it is that the nut 

 which the squirrel drops sounds loudly on the leaf; 

 the twig snapped under foot crackles noisily. The 

 murmur and splashing of the tiny brook, the rust- 

 ling of the autumn leaves are sounds familiar but 



