The Quail 8j 



two steps ; then something grazed a leggin, and 

 she stiffened beside my foot. I reached down and 

 patted her. To the hand she felt hard as a board, 

 and the tense muscles twitched curiously. Once 

 more I moved ahead, turned, and said, " Madgie, 

 where are — " 



" Burr — r-r-r-urr ! " 



Not a bevy, but a pack of about forty birds 

 roared up ten yards away and started for the 

 standing corn. I rattled in both barrels, and 

 three birds fell. Like an echo came two shots 

 from Doc, followed by a warning cry. I hurried 

 a shell into the right barrel and turned in time 

 for a chance at a second bevy as it reached the 

 corn. A bird fell, and I saw Doc gather a brace. 



There were two hours of daylight left, and there 

 were sixty or more quail in the corn. A Joshua 

 would have been worth ten dollars an hour, in 

 advance. The stalks towered above our heads, 

 and the ground was a bit too clean for birds to 

 lie very close ; but the sport lost no spice on that 

 account. 



Up and down the rows we tramped abreast, 

 getting shots every few minutes and missing now 

 and then. Often we could not see the birds 

 when they rose, but many a beautiful bit of dog 

 work and brilliant kill rewarded us. The birds 

 were scattered all over the place, and only the 

 approach of dusk prevented the making of a tre- 



