Some Glimps^es of Grousing 135 



The other figures stanchly hold their points, 

 and a low, eager whisper says, " Good — give it to 

 them ! " 



Boo-00-Boo-oo-r-r ! One, two, a third, rise and 

 rush for the cover, which the first and second 

 are doomed never to reach. The gun seems to 

 be a live thing, going down, breaking, and spitting 

 out empties of itself and fairly reaching for more 

 shells. Then — Boo-oorr ! again and again, then 

 a general explosion, and half a dozen birds are 

 flung into the air at once. Hasty fingers work 

 in vain this time, for no man living has a license 

 to load after a ruffed fellow has started. The 

 man in question is half rattled by his amazing 

 good fortune, and for the moment he forgets that 

 the lemon-headed dog is wise as serpents are sup- 

 posed to be, and that he is still propped. 



Says the man, as he half turns, " Little 

 woman, I've shot ruffed grouse from ahem ! to 

 Halifax, but this is the first time ever I tackled 

 'em in Paradise ! Why ! if I'd had a repeater I 

 could have — Boo-00-oom-m ! " 



The white dog knew ! To whirl, to miss clean, 

 to try a desperate chance with the second — all 

 these were so easy that he did them all there and 

 then. But a random shot will kill, etc., for a curi- 

 ous thing happened. The straightaway bird prob- 

 ably had its head turned to one side, for at the 

 second report it lurched for an instant, appeared 



