346 



RECREA TION. 



and he comes to earth, a clean kill. I am 



surprised to hear G exclaim, " I got 



him that time! " Explanations and a post 

 mortem examination of the victim, con- 

 vince us that both fired, although the re- 

 ports were heard as one. The bird is so 

 mangled that, as an article of food, it is 

 worthless. 



For an hour, perhaps, we follow the 

 birds from one end of the thicket to the 

 other, without a kill. This in no wise de- 

 tracts from the enjoyment of the hunt, for 

 it is sport, not meat, we are after. In the 

 excitement of those few minutes we were 

 well repaid for the unfruitful search of the 

 morning. 



Now my ear catches the distant call of 

 some straggler that sought safety in the 

 woods. Wearied of his long concealment, 

 he sends forth his liquid note, which is 

 soon answered by another refugee among 

 the briers that skirt the zigzag fence. Step- 

 ping cautiously in the direction of the 

 sound, I have gone but a few paces when 

 the rustling of leaves and the flutter of 



wings, to the rear, remind me the quail is 

 not the only crafty feathered game. As I 

 quickly turn and fire a charge of No. 8's, 

 the disappointment of a miss is mingled 

 with a secret exultation; for here is a quar- 

 ry worthy of my utmost skill. 



Ah! there is a sight to make the nerves 

 of any sportsman tingle with delight. 

 Crouched among the briers, beyond the 

 fence, I catch a glimpse of canine statuary. 

 Spot, with nostrils dilated, eyes flashing, 

 and tense muscles, says plainly, " Here 

 they are! " While yonder, frozen at the 

 sight, stands Duke, backing perfectly. 

 Two birds rise, and, at the report of my 

 gun, one falls into the grass. Duke hast- 

 ens to fetch; halts an instant; but, at my 

 command, rushes in and brings it, still 

 struggling, to my hand. 



The others fly — we know not where. Af- 

 ter searching vainly, we turn our footsteps 

 homeward, hastened by the dusk of eve, 

 now thickening fast, counting the day's la- 

 bor not in vain, for health and peaceful 

 sleep are ours, with pleasant recollections. 



AMATEUR I'HOTO BY H. B. READING. 



A THIRSTY TRAVELER. 

 Highly Commended by the Judges in Recreation's Second Annual Photo Competition. 



