There is another association with this 



7 

 same bird that always gives an added thrill 



to the rush of his wings through the startled 

 woods. It was in the old school by the ^eOfSeech 

 cross-roads, one sleepy September afternoon. jP<afr/o^c 

 A class in spelling, big boys and little girls, 

 toed a crack in front of the master's desk. 

 The rest of the school droned away on 

 appointed tasks in the drowsy interlude. 

 Suddenly there was a terrific crash, a clat- 

 tering tinkle of broken glass, a howl from a 

 boy near the window. Twenty knees banged 

 the desks beneath, as twenty boys jumped. 

 Then, before any of us had found his wits, 

 Jimmy Jenkins had jumped over two forms 

 and was down on the floor, in the girls' aisle, 

 gripping something between his knees. — 



" I 've got him," he announced, with the 

 air of a general. 



" Got what } " thundered the master. 



" Got a pa'tridge ; he 's an old buster," said 

 Jimmy. And he straightened up, holding by 

 the legs a fine cock partridge whose stiffen- 

 ing wings still beat his sides spasmodically. 

 He had been scared up in the neighboring 



