66 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 
little boy noticed it at home after the day 
was over and she had ridden about forty 
miles in the machine. Surely that was dead 
game. There are different kinds of game¬ 
ness and different ways of showing it—but 
truly no dog of any type or breed ever did 
anything much gamer than that. At least, 
when you consider all the circumstances and 
particularly the way she conducted herself. 
The next morning when I went to her, I 
found that Byrd’s eyelids were matted to¬ 
gether as tight as though they had been 
stuck with LePage’s glue. It was almost 
impossible to pry the lids apart. It was only 
by the use of warm water, softly applied with 
a sponge, that I was able at last to accom¬ 
plish this. I then took her to the doctor 
again and he treated her once more with the 
boracic acid. 
I could not hunt her the following day, 
but she went with me several other times 
during the remaining days of the pheasant 
season. The next time she went into rag¬ 
weed she did not suffer any further difficulty 
with her eyes, although, of course, I was 
mighty careful of her, especially for a while, 
