MY DOGS AND OTHERS 261 
her. This, I think, is to be explained in two ways: 
either her delight at the prospect of going out with 
me caused her to forget the pain for the time being, 
or by mere coincidence it so happened that I 
released her during the few seconds of numbness 
preceding the sensation of maddening pain. 
I never shot a dog, dead, unless by request. To 
take so drastic a step with a local dog is seldom the 
best policy, while to shoot a dog that perhaps never 
may come that way again is not worth the almost 
certain risk of a row. I admit that I have found it 
a hard matter to refrain from shooting a good many 
dogs. More than one keeper has misjudged an 
attempt merely to sting upa dog. OnceI thought | 
was well intoa scrape. I was with another man in one 
of my woods making the final preparations for a shoot. 
All the morning we heard two dogs having a rare 
innings in somebody else’s wood a couple of fields 
distant. It was not my place to interfere with them 
there; nor, in view of my coming shoot, was it 
diplomatic to do so. All I hoped was that they 
would not adjourn to my wood. However, follow- 
ing a lull in the duet in my neighbour’s wood, my 
mate and I were roused to fury by hearing the 
brutes break out in my covert. I went to fetch my 
gun, which had been left with other tackle, and 
slipped round to watch a broad ride. Just as I came 
to the top of it the two brutes crossed about sixty 
yards down. I let them have it broadside. They 
