152 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



"The old bitch has treed 'em; hustle, mon ! " now 

 cried the long-legged Scot, as he sprinted through the 

 tangle of undergrowth in the direction whence the 

 sound proceeded, while I brought in the rear. 



After a quick burst of ten minutes' duration, we 

 espied " Zaza " gazing towards the topmost branch of 

 a tall spruce tree, and giving vent to short and excited 

 yaps. 



" There they are ! " exclaimed Mac, pointing upwards 

 into the tree. I peered and peered, but could see nothing 

 bearing the slightest resemblance to a grouse, or indeed, 

 to a bird of any kind, amongst the dense, dark foliage. 



" Stand clear and shoot as they come out ! " said my 

 companion. 



I did as he bid me. A couple of shots cracked out 

 from the pump-gun; a brace of ruffed grouse came 

 hustling earthwards, bouncing from bough to bough like 

 a couple of rubber balls, and the remaining brace flew 

 over my head, offering such easy shots that I could not 

 well have missed them. The first bird fell dead as a 

 stone almost at my feet, but the other, with a wing 

 down, led the trio a merry chase among the surrounding 

 tangle of undergrowth ere the dog succeeded in capturing 

 it. Thus did I shoot my maiden brace of ruffed grouse. 



Then through the silent forest we wended our way 

 homewards, for, although personally I was anxious to 

 shoot more game, my companion seemed still more 

 anxious to return to his work on the land. 



