142 AMERICAN GAME BIRD SHOOTING. 
“‘T should think not,” was the answer; ‘‘ why, her 
features are about as pretty as those of an ape.” 
“¢ Then you think her ape pretty woman.” 
‘¢T think you are ape bore.” 
“¢ Which proves that I sometimes talk to hogs. Ta-ta, 
doctor; I’m off.” 
“‘T know you are. You must have been off your nut 
since you were born, or you wouldn’t torture innocent 
people with such vile puns.” 
«Well, Pll give you a rest for a while,” said Smith, 
smilingly. He then locked his arm in mine, and call- 
ing the cur, which readily followed us, we started into 
the forest in search of feathered game. We travelled” 
about half a mile before seeing anything worth firing at, 
and them came suddenly upon a brood of dusky grouse, 
which were feeding on the berries that grew profusely in 
every direction. We set the dog at them, and when they 
rose on the wing we scored a couple of brace with both 
guns. 
‘Mark! mark!” yelled Smith, although they did not 
fly twenty yards before they settled in a tree whose 
branches were so far apart we could plainly see every one 
of them. 
Having picked up the slain, we advanced to the re- 
treat of the fugitives, and Smith opened fire on them, in 
order to make them fly, but they refused to move. By 
bringing one of the upper birds tumbling down, he man- 
aged to induce the others to fly, and to give us both a 
wing shot, which netted us a brace and a half. The 
next group we met was a regular bachelor party whose 
members were so tame that they walked ahead of us for 
some time, for I was so interested in watching their 
movements and stately attitudes that I would not per- 
mit my companion to fire at them. They finally took to 
flight, and were beyond range before I even thought of 
shooting, for it seemed a pity to kill them. Smith did not 
