THE RUFFED GROUSE. 115 



" Well," said Jim, " I've got it all laid out. We will 

 leave those coveys I found the other day until the middle 

 of the forenoon and afternoon, because that was the time 

 I found 'em; this morning we will look along that bridle- 

 trail of Mathias' for birds that come after gravel and 

 horse-droppings, and then cross over and look among the 

 blackberry-bushes along the railroad. Then we'll take 

 in three or four coveys I know of, and, about noon, get 

 around to the grape-vines by the creek, where they're 

 likely to come to drink to-day; then we'll take in the 

 others I found, and, along toward night, get down into 

 Secord's blackberry and huckleberry patch. Do you 

 know any better scheme?" 



" No," replied Ben; "that's about the route we made 

 our record on last year. By the way, wasn't I a couple 

 of birds ahead that day?" 



" Not much! we came out even; but I'll see it don't 

 happen again. I want to show you to-day that that old 

 crow-bar is 'way behind the times." 



Ben replied by touching his companion's shoulder, 

 and pointing to Don, who had suddenly stiffened to a 

 point in the open woods they had just entered. Then, 

 in a low voice: " I believe that's a stray bird, and he will 

 make for that raspberry-patch in the corner. You go 

 to the right, and I'll walk up on the left till I flush 

 him." 



There were two reports close together, a delightful 

 thud, and two small feathers drifted earthward. 



"Whose was that?" asked Ben, smiling in a way 

 intended to be both consoling and decisive. 



"Guess I'll have to give that to the crow-bar. I 

 pulled a second too soon, and caught that sapling out 

 yonder," said Jim, with his usual good-nature. 



Half an hour later, the two sportsmen indulged in a 

 very expressive pantomime, while old Don was cautiously 



