THE RUFFED GROUSE 27 
domain, she next tries cunning, and will drag 
herself along the ground for some distance just 
in front of her eager pursuer, and only when 
he thinks to seize the crippled and wing-broken 
bird does she dash from the ground and whiz 
away to the safety of the nearest thick growth. 
Meanwhile the young birds have crept into the 
brush, slipped under dead leaves, flattened 
themselves upon the ground, it may be at your 
very feet, and lie there motionless, disappearing 
as if by magic from a spot which one second be- 
fore was fairly alive with chirping and peeping 
little yellowish-brown fluffy balls running in 
every direction. Once safely hidden they re- 
main quiet and still until the danger is past and 
they hear again the low, mellow call of the 
mother bird as she gathers her brood to run and 
feed as though nothing had happened. Few are 
the farmers’ boys who have not ‘‘’Most caught 
a pa’tridge, only’’—and in that last word is the 
whole matter in a nut-shell—they didn’t, in just 
this way. Yet it is no matter for wonderment 
that Master Barefoot is deceived by these 
tricks, for a more perfect piece of acting is not 
to be seen. 
Do you know a burnt patch in the woods, or a 
