102 WILD FOWL iSHOOTING. 



seemed almosttouching his side. But look! He moves 1 

 The snipe has skulked away from his .first hiding- 

 place, emtioldened by the silence of the pointing dog. 

 Skulk, glide, steal away, my eccentric friend ; the nos- 

 trils once filled with your delicate scent will not give 

 you up, but will follow you tirelessly, until you attempt 

 to escape with your swift moving wings. Slowly, cau- 

 tiously, never for an instant relaxing the vigor, the 

 stiffness of the muscles of his body, the dog creeps for- 

 ward. How quietly he moves ; how gently, how noise- 

 lessly, he puts down first one foot and then the other 

 in the soft soil. He fears almost to put them down,, 

 least the grating,, of his feet and legs on the dried grass 

 should arouse the bird. He is moving in a westerly 

 direction now, and the breeze will aid him in the scent. 



Apparently the bird is some thirty feet ahead of him. 

 The cross wind blowing from the south brings a new 

 scent to him. Quick as lightning he turns his head to. 

 the left, dropping his head, and crouching still lower, 

 he points a bird within ten feet of him. 



Ned could stand it no longer, and with flushed face, 

 and eyes filled with brightness, enthusiastically ex- 

 claimed, " Splendid ! grand ! I never saw a dog work 

 like that. Do you know. Will, from the time the dog 

 first winded that bird, I never took my eyes off him, 

 and when he pointed, then roaded, then pointed again, 

 I most felt that I could smell the snipe ; but when he 

 came to the second bird, and twisted his head so sud- 

 denly, I felt the cold chills run dowii my back, 

 and " 



" Great Scott," exclaimed Ned, as a snipe got up 

 right under his feet, which he knocked over within 

 ten yards of him. 



