74 BREAKING A BIRD DOG 
putting up one single bird. At the far end, 
when we came to the high wire fence that 
bordered it, we stood for a few moments in 
some indecision as to the most likely direc¬ 
tion in which to launch our next effort. 
While we were still thus conversing, my 
attention was suddenly called to as pretty a 
point as the heart might wish to see. Byrd 
was crowded right up against the edge of 
the fence, which also was the edge of the 
best cover, and she was not forty feet from 
where we stood. I just knew she had some¬ 
thing—she had never failed me nor fooled 
me whenever she straightened out into one 
of her characteristic points. I was as con¬ 
fident that there was either a pheasant or a 
covey of quail in front of her, as I would 
have been could I actually have seen what¬ 
ever it was with my own eyes. 
Regardless of what I might have expected, 
however, I was not prepared for what 
greeted me when I walked in to flush. It is 
true that down on the Watkins’ farm, while 
training before the season opened, we did 
flush a splendid covey of a dozen or more 
pheasants which rose as simultaneously as a 
