OUAIL IN THE LONG MARSH. 



G. A. H. 



For a long time my hunting chum and I 

 had been trying to get out after quails; but 

 something always prevented. The season 

 had nearly closed when, at last, we set off; 

 taking my setter, Dan, with us. 



We reached, the marsh after a drive of 5 

 miles, and in short order had our guns 

 together and were ready for business. The 

 marsh is about 7 miles long and 3 to 5 

 miles wide, and is dotted over with clumps 

 of scrub oaks, which the natives call isl- 

 ands. On each side are large grain farms 

 where the birds feed. These islands cover 

 from 2 to 5 acres each, and are seldom 

 more than %. of a mile apart. We started 

 on one of the largest. Van took one side 

 and I the other, intending to follow around 

 until we rflet. I had gone about half way 

 when a grouse flushed from a tree, and 

 while I was trying to get a shot at it, an- 

 other one went. I shouted to Van, who 

 marked the last one. I continued some 

 distance further, hoping to find a bevy of 

 quail, but drew a blank; so joined Van 

 and we started after the grouse. We again 

 separated; I keeping to the right. 



The dogs were working perfectly. 

 Though old Fred had hunted 8 seasons he 

 was as fast as ever, and warm company for 

 any dog, young or old. Suddenly Dan 

 stopped, wavered, tried the wind, then 

 slowly went forward and froze to a point. 



I signalled Van and started for the dog, 

 "but hardly had I gone a dozen paces when 

 a grouse flushed 50 yards away. The brush 

 was too thick for even a snap shot, so I 

 could only mark the bird down. 



This grouse got up ahead and to one 

 side of where the dog was pointing, and 

 I could not understand it. Dan has the 

 reputation of always locating his game and 

 seldom makes a false point. As he was still 

 pointing I called him but he did not move. 

 Van came up with old Fred, who promptly 

 backed, but we could raise nothing. We 

 went over the ground again and Van gave 

 it up and started away. I proceeded to 

 light my pipe, and while busy at that I 

 heard the birds go. Van marked them 

 down and said they were 3 quails. 



Where those birds could have been is a 

 mystery, as I thought I kicked over every 

 foot of ground within 3 rods of the dog. 



We worked to the edge of the brush 

 where I had marked down the grouse, and 

 feund an old road with a rail fence on the 

 opposite side. Thinking the fence the 

 most likely cover, we worked down. Van 

 on the field side, I in the road. We had 

 gone but a short distance when I stooped 

 to pull a sand burr from Dan's foot and 

 while busy Van shouted " Look out! " I 



grabbed my gun in time to see the grouse 

 sailing off through the woods. It was a 

 long shot but I blazed away and down he 

 came. At command Dan retrieved the 

 grouse and I found I had just tipped one of 

 his wings. 



We now started for the quail that Van 

 had marked down in an old clearing. We 

 had gone but a little way when I missed 

 Dan, and as he would not come to the 

 whistle, I knew he was on a point. 



Turning back we found him. This time 

 we got the bird up and both shot; but as 

 far as known he is going yet. 



A short distance beyond Fred pointed; 

 Dan backing. I flushed the bird and Van 

 killed. 



Working into the brush of the island, 

 both dogs were making game, each inde- 

 pendent of the other, when 2 grouse got 

 up wild. 



As we could not see them we had to 

 guess at the direction they took. 



We moved slowly on and had gone but 

 a few steps when another one flushed, giv- 

 ing me a fair shot, which for some reason 

 I missed. 



We followed the birds and had almost 

 reached the open marsh when both dogs 

 roaded to a point; one standing under a 

 wire fence, the other on the opposite side 

 of a bunch of weeds and brush. We found 

 good places to shoot from, and then gave 

 Fred the word. Up went the grouse high 

 above the brush and gave me just the op- 

 portunity I wanted. At the crack of the 

 gun down he came. I was congratulating 

 myself on making a good shot when Van 

 appeared, putting a shell in his gun. " Did 

 you shoot? " we both asked in a breath. 



We had both fired at the same instant; 

 and neither heard the report of the other's 

 gun. 



We now worked along the fence and 

 Fred pointed again, Dan backed, and we 

 once more sought a clear place to shoot 

 from. 



" Put him tip, boy," was the command, 

 and Fred moved a step or 2. The grouse 

 rose over a bunch of willows, offering Van 

 an open shot. At the crack of the gun, the 

 bird dropped and caught in the fork of a 

 branch. After getting this bird we started 

 for the house. 



When almost to the barn Dan made game 

 and the next second a bird got up. going 

 straight for the house. 



We followed and Fred pointed in a patch 

 of briers not 100 yards from the front door. 

 On our coming up the grouse flushed, go- 

 ing my way. It was open shooting and 1 

 had no trouble in cutting him down. 



