THE SHARP-TAILED GROUSE JJ 



stepped on the bird, which arose with a loud whirr, but 

 I was fortunate enough to bag it. The concealment was 

 most remarkable since at no place was the grass much 

 longer than the bird's legs. The above incident was 

 but one of many which proved that the bird, although 

 more willing to expose itself to view, was as good at con- 

 cealment as the partridge, ruffed-grouse, or woodcock. 

 Roosevelt refers to passing through a flock of sharp- 

 tails without seeing a bird on the ground, and glancing 

 back, to see all the long necks outstretched in the 

 grass, intently watching him, I have never seen the 

 prairie-grouse exhibit any such curiosity, and it is un- 

 usual in the shooting season to see those birds at all 

 until they are on the wing. 



One day at Fort Totten, the Indian agent came to 

 invite me to shoot with him. He had a good pair of 

 horses hitched to a light spring wagon and one of his 

 Indian policemen (Mr. Ironlightning, I cannot write 

 his Sioux name) sat beside him. An orange and white 

 setter was in the wagon, a big, strong dog I had shot 

 over often before. We drove out a short distance, and, 

 releasing the dog, he went off like a greyhound on the 

 wide, gray plain. Soon he went more slowly, and it 

 was evident from his actions that he was approaching 

 birds. We drove forward as he settled to a point, and 

 the Indian held the reins while we went in and flushed 

 a covey of fifteen or twenty birds. The shots were easy, 

 and at the report of the four barrels in one, two — three, 

 four order, feathers white and gray hung in the air, 

 and four plump birds fell dead in the grass. The sur- 

 vivors did not fly far, and slipping shells into the guns, 

 we moved forward afoot, and soon were busy with the 



