276 The Sporting Dog 



the air. Then he sent a dog to retrieve each 

 bird. 



The judge went back to the house, after tell- 

 ing us at some length how he had never cared for 

 gunning, but had done some " fox ridin' " and 

 helped to make a few match horse-races of county 

 fame. 



We shot along with the usual variations of suc- 

 cess but with no mistakes for the dogs. Late in 

 the afternoon we struck a weed field which sloped 

 to a marsh bordering the river. The doctor laughed 

 oddly as he expressed a wonder whether the old 

 field had any birds. 



Bob began to point, crawling along, the other 

 dog backing and creeping a dozen paces behind. 

 I was on tiptoe, excited and expecting something 

 to happen every second. The doctor took it easy, 

 being unaccountably contented, as I afterward re- 

 called. The time seemed a quarter of an hour. 

 I suppose it was two minutes. As we came to 

 twenty yards from the marsh, all at once there 

 arose the biggest lot — I can't call it a bevy — of 

 quail I ever saw together, or ever shall see unless 

 I go to California, where bevies unite into colo- 

 nies. My own nerves were unequal to the sight, 

 and I did not shoot at all. The doctor clipped 

 one out of the bunch as they reached the marsh. 

 After it was retrieved he explained. 



" This field always gives the same show," he 



