The Quail 77 



The first field, a big stubble, held no birds, but 

 it proved the superb quality of the dogs. They 

 went off at the word and beat it out like field- 

 trial winners, working independently, quarter- 

 ing beautifully, and maintaining an astonishing 

 rate of speed. Once Madge whirled and stopped 

 for a second on a lark ; but brief as her halt was, 

 Joss had time to back her fifty yards away. Doc's 

 face fairly shone as he grunted at me, " Great 

 team — eh.?" They were good beyond question, 

 and the second field showed them to even better 

 advantage. The game little ladies started fast 

 and kept warming the pace, till they were racing 

 before they had cut out half their ground. To 

 and fro they swept in beautiful long tacks, sailing 

 along with smooth, flawless action, which hinted 

 of plenty of staying power. Heads carried high 

 and sterns ceaselessly whipping flanks gave to 

 their work that style and finish so pleasing to 

 the eye of a sportsman. No order was given, for 

 none was required. At intervals Doc whistled 

 sharply to turn one or other ; with this exception 

 they worked as their bird sense prompted. We 

 followed as leisurely as their speed would allow, 

 and we did not have to walk far. 



Madge's white nose rose higher and tested the 

 breeze for a moment, then she went galloping 

 dead to windward. No tacking, no ground-scent, 

 no roading: just a rapid run up the wlndt and 



