CHAPTER IX 



BY the time I had traversed Ridden Mire I had gathered 

 unto myself two and a half couple of snipe. Not so 

 bad ! As I ascended the Ridge my eye was arrested by a 

 white object among the heather, whilst a distant yapping was 

 borne to my ears. On closer investigation I found that it was 

 Cockie Junior, voicing trouble. 



There he was, panting and utterly exhausted, and by his 

 side lay the old jack-hare (now " gone west " for good and 

 all), which he had evidently run down and killed and then 

 had attempted to retrieve until nature gave out, when he had 

 fallen back upon his tongue as a means of calling the attention 

 of his master to his meritorious exploit. Goodness only knows 

 how far he had dragged the victim, which was well nigh as big 

 as himself. Truly a very gallant little dog ! 



On gaining the top of Ridden Ridge, Bellevor Tor revealed 

 itself, with its stoney summit wreathed in wisps of silver 

 mist. As I descended to the valley of the Dart, Cockie began 

 to show signs that game of some sort was toward. He began 

 nosing his way among the gorse and bracken, with his 

 stump of a tail furiously oscillating. I thought that this 

 might portend another hare. (By the way, I had secreted the 

 old " jack " in a convenient cairn, " to be left until called for " 

 on the return journey ; he was much too weighty a burden 

 to be lugged around during the whole of my peregrinations) ; 

 but I was wrong in my surmise. The scent which so titillated 

 the nostrils of my terrier, proved to be that of an antiquated 

 black cock ; rara avis, indeed, on this side of the Moor. 



The wily bird was far too sophisticated to give me any 

 sort of chance of bringing him to book, for he rose some two 

 hundred yards away, and sailing majestically over the heather, 



83 6* 



