294 UPLAND SHOOTING. 



ahead of any accidental comer; his gun has had an extra 

 cleaning, his traps have been gathered together, and his 

 dog has been carefully watched and faithfully guarded, 

 lest he be missing on this eventful morning. Long before 

 sunrise, the hunters quietly drive to the neighboring 

 fields, and when the first faint light shows the approaching 

 day, they are in the stubble-fields, fresh in their dewy 

 smell of hay and clover. Soon it is light enough to see to 

 shoot, and the morning air bears to their ears the faint 

 boom of guns from the moist valley they are in. How 

 sweet the morn, when the air is fresh and pure, and fra- 

 grant smells the field! although the days are dry and 

 hot, and under the midday sun the earth gasps for 

 refreshment. to moisten its parched bosom. In this early 

 morning hour, the hunter's trail leaves behind it a dark- 

 green path, while their limbs are wet with the heavy dew. 

 How grandly the dogs work on this summer's morn! 'Tis 

 their gala day, the beginning of many happy ones for 

 them, for in this sport they are never left at home. The 

 fresh, cool air, the moist stubble, fill the spirit of the dogs 

 with rivalry, and they race forward at break-neck speed, 

 until checked by the stern command of their master. 

 Soon the birds are found, and an old cock rises just far 

 enough away to tempt the beginner. Cunning old chap, 

 he hasn't forgotten his experience of the previous year. 

 Don't shoot at him; let him go, for the young brood must 

 be within close gunshot. "Whir! whir!" and each 

 hunter bags his bird. No time for talking now, for 

 shells are hastily slipped in, and before the gun is closed 

 other birds are in air; quickly slamming it together, a 

 double is made; the birds are gathered, the stray ones 

 who feared to fly are pointed almost at the hunter' s feet, 

 and they, too, are flushed and bagged. At such a time as 

 this, my dog has often pointed them in little bunches of 

 weeds in the heart of the stubble-fields, and I have seen 



