THE RUFFED GROUSE 29 
this knoll—Whir-r-r! Quick, now! Too late! 
He dives down a ravine at the right and when 
he comes again into view he is too far away for 
shot to harm him. Where was the dog? I 
don’t hear his bell. Ah! There he is—creep- 
ing cautiously up to a clump of blackberry 
bushes. Carefully, now, for every quick-witted, 
sharp-sighted grouse in the clearing is on the 
alert since that first bird tore down the gully at 
full speed. See that puppy! Isn’t that a pic- 
ture for you? He performs like a veteran! 
He stiffens, and trembling with suppressed 
joy and eagerness, turns a cautious glance be- 
hind to see if you know the critical state of 
things, as slowly turns back again and stands a 
marble statue against the background of green 
waving brakes and moss-grown stumps. A sec- 
ond later you hear the resentful scolding— 
**Quit-quit! Quit-quit!’’"—a rapid patter of 
nimble feet on the dry leaves—Whir-r-r-r! 
Away he goes—a mere brown streak at light- 
ning speed! 
Perchance you have stopped their headlong 
rush many times before; in that case you may 
stop this one—if you have luck. It may be 
that this is your first experience, when it is 
