IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 179 



down a hedgerow towards another with a wet 

 ditch. Scape ! scape ! Up gets a wisp, and 

 down goes one bird. The dogs are wild, and 

 dashing on, pnt np a lot more whilst I am getting 

 him. I get them in again, and a little further 

 on I bag another in an onion patch, which is 

 always a favourite resort of scolopax. At the 

 shot a teal rises, but though he does not settle 

 far off, I cannot turn aside, but keep on over a 

 low hill, and into the Eadopolje plain, mostly 

 vineyards. The Cesma waters this, and just 

 below is a favourite corner for woodcock which 

 I cannot miss. " Hie in ! " The dogs dash into, 

 the brambles, and flap ! flap ! up gets a cock.. 

 It was an awkward twist, and I am a little slow 

 getting on him, which is just as well, for as it is 

 he just drops neatly on the far bank. Although 

 there are some twenty feet of icy-cold, swift- 

 running water, the red dog plunges in without 

 hesitation, and swims across. Alas for neglected 

 educational opportunities ! he has never been 

 taught to retrieve, so I watch curiously. He 

 takes the bird in his mouth, looks inquiringly at 

 me, and, disregarding my "Fetch it," lays it 

 carefully down and swims back as he went. 

 Fortunately, a boy, attracted by the shot, appears, 

 and starts off with the bird for the nearest bridge. 

 Meanwhile I look for another, find it, and miss 

 it. At the shot a mallard gets up with a quack, 



