344 THE END 



See the bitch sniffing up on that pointed 

 stone. It Is not rabbits. I walk quietly on, 

 close to the eager dogs. Something runs 

 behind that bramble bush — and rises. I 

 suppose I was (the old fault !) a bit under 

 him with the right barrel, but as he tops 

 the hedge, the full-choke doubles him up 

 at fifty yards or thereabouts. Just as I 

 "break" my gun, a second cock rises from 

 behind a bush to my right, but I am not 

 ready in time. So there is nothing to do 

 but to walk on to my mark. As I peer 

 over the hedge, I look right down upon my 

 quarry, in the little bitch's mouth. What a 

 picture ! The bird is very nearly as big as 

 the dog, but she holds him (albeit tenderly) 

 for fear he may develop running powers. 

 Jumping over, I take him from her, but, 

 having no other means, must fain carry 



