THE SPOOK. 159 
had been, the corn-stubble, and entered the 
old clover-field. 
Suddenly one of the dogs—an old retriever 
—seemed to be on the trail of something. He 
tracked it, now here, now there, and at such 
a furious speed that the sportsmen said it 
must be an animal, since no bird could have 
put up with that hustling without rising. 
Then the dog made a grab, and lifting his 
head, galloped back to his master, at whose 
feet he put down a mottled brown bird 10-5 
inches long, with long legs and a short beak. 
There it lay, dead apparently, on the ground, 
though the old retriever was so_ tender- 
mouthed that he could not have harmed it. 
Next moment a covey of partridges rose. 
The man turned to fire, the dog leaped forward 
to retrieve, and when the man turned again, 
the bird was gone. It had jumped up and 
slunk off, with head held low, and running hard. 
Arrived at the next field, it rose and flew half 
a mile. This bird had been shamming death. 
He was a corncrake, which is a landrail, 
which was the maker of the scythe-sharpening, 
ventriloquial noise of the hay-field. He had 
come in the spring, reared his young with his 
mate, and that very night he departed, flying 
high and strongly across the sky—south, south 
to the land of the sun five thousand miles away. 
