PROSPECTING. 

 Winner of 34th prize in Recreation's 4th Annual Photo Competition. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY LILLiE A. BRANDT. 



ONE SHOT ON THE WING. 



\VM. M. HUNDLEY. 



Jim and I were mighty hunters as far 

 as our 10 years in the world and the lim- 

 ited possibilities of an antiquated fowling- 

 piece would admit. Jim, my colored fac- 

 totum, usually discovered the game and 

 always carried the spoil, while I did the 

 shooting. We divided the glory. We 

 knew nothing of seasons, and no game 

 laws existed in those days. The planta- 

 tion was ours to roam over at will, and 

 the wild things on it were as the air, the 

 sunlight and the flowers that grew by the 

 hedges — the belongings of no man. Our 

 great desire was to bag a quail. 



One day as we lay under the shade of a 

 hedge, resting after laborious effort that 

 had ended in failure, we saw a splendid old 

 cock come out of the grass and hop to 

 the topmost rail of the fence just over the 

 highway. That was the chance we had 

 longed for, worked for and dreamed of 

 many a day. I carefully poked the old gun 

 through the hedge, but my heart came up 

 to my throat and I was forced to breathe 

 before I could aim. Alas! the hesitation 

 was fatal to our hope. A boy that came 

 barefooted down the dusty road unob- 

 served by us had seen the bird, and just as 



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