The Quail 8i 



upon the log. In spite of the long wait, the flush 

 and shooting so near at hand, she had not moved 

 a hair. 



There was fun a-plenty. We ordered Joss on ; 

 but the instant she had got into a more comforta- 

 ble position, she set herself and refused to budge. 

 I kicked a bit of brush, and right from under my 

 feet went a bird. Doc stopped it, then he kicked 

 the brush and a brace whizzed forth — one of 

 them probably is whizzing yet. A kick at a 

 branch sent a jaunty wee hen whirring to a medi- 

 cated doom, then two white-throats boomed away 

 together, and I made a clean double. 



" Confound you — you always get the best of 

 it ! " exclaimed Doc. His voice started another, 

 and I snapped it and did some soulful chuckling. 

 But the joy was short-lived, for two puffs of smoke 

 floated away, and Doc put in another shell. We 

 had fired so nearly together that neither had 

 heard the other's gun. 



The dogs moved about a bit, but soon stiffened 

 again, evidently on more birds in the pile. Kick- 

 ing failed to start them, so I climbed upon the 

 pile and set it all swaying. Then, with a resound- 

 ing whirr, the remainder of the bevy darted out. 

 Doc stopped a brace. 



This ended the excitement, so a halt was called 

 for lunch and a pipe. The dogs curled up together 

 and took their bread in turn. The tips of the 



