Jan. 29, 1910.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
ICO 
straight ahead with my first barrel and with my 
second nailed an old cock that had swung 
around to my right. E. had also a pair. We 
went to pick up our birds, but my old cock had 
dropped into some high willows and was not 
to be seen. Then we knew he had been winged, 
but as there were deep holes among the willow 
roots, thought he had hid there, as they gen¬ 
erally do. 
Rusk was seen to disappear over a hill a 
couple of hundred yards away, but neither of 
us paid any attention to him. Presently, while 
we were lying on all fours looking for the bird, 
Rusk came back, but we were too busy to mind 
him, and after a while he disappeared again. 
We had to give up the search at last and were 
just getting up from our knees when we caught 
sight of Rusk coming over the hill with the 
“line ’em,” dropping both with one barrel. At 
the report of the gun the dogs stopped their 
fighting and Rusk was allowed to retrieve. When 
Irish came near, however, to have a sniff at 
them he showed his teeth, and there was every 
prospect of another fight. Strangely enough, they 
were always friends when working ptarmigans. 
And now, in fairness to E., I am going to tel 
“one on me.” During the day I had of course 
been teasing E. a little about bathing, etc., when 
just as we were approaching the tent on our 
return an old cock ptarmigan jumped up right 
alongside of me. We were walking along talk¬ 
ing, and I, who had the dog whistle attached to 
a long cord, was absentmindedly twirling it 
around my index finger, and as same finger hap¬ 
pened to be my trigger finger, I found it tied 
up hard and tight when I was about to shoot. 
world like taunting laughter. E. turned a very 
surprised face toward me, but when he learned 
what was wrong just lay down and roared. 
Needless to say, I steered shy of the subject of 
bathing after this. 
There were two tired fellows that came to the 
tent that evening, as walking all day in ankle 
deep moss, knee high or higher willows, and up 
steep mountains is liable to weary a fellow. Our 
week came to an end all too soon, and one of 
H.’s boys with a pack horse arrived one morn¬ 
ing to take us back to civilization. 
Our bag for five days’ hunting was 103 ptarmi¬ 
gan, two teal and one woodcock. We fondly 
hope some time to be be able to spend two 
weeks among the ptarmigan; then a fellow gets 
the full enjoyment of it. As it is now, when 
there is only one week, a whole year’s ptarmigan 
After the Rain. 
ON THE PTARMIGAN GROUNDS. 
Homeward Bound. 
bird in his mouth. He laid the bird in my 
hand, without having rumpled a feather, and 
the bird as lively as ever. Then Rusk looked 
inquiringly at me as though to say: “I know I 
must not touch cripples, but you did not under¬ 
stand me a little while ago when I came back 
to report, and I could not let the bird escape; 
could I?” 
I patted him on the head and said: “You are 
right, Rusk, and I am a thick-headed numb¬ 
skull.” I was very much chagrined over my in¬ 
attention, as the chances are he would have re¬ 
ported in the future if only I had followed him, 
but I hope he will try again. 
By the way, I think all intelligent and well- 
broken dogs will report if only their masters are 
attentive. It is very natural for a dog who has 
been pointing game in thick brush or out of 
sight of his master to return to him, and if he 
follows, the dog will naturally return to where 
he had the game. This repeated only a few 
times will make him a true reporter, which all 
bird dogs ought to be. 
Later in the day we had a rather funny in¬ 
cident. Rusk came to a point among some wil¬ 
lows bordering a brook, with Irish a little to 
one side. They both advanced, being jealous of 
one another, until they met, when Rusk, who 
had found the birds and evidently thought they 
were his, jumped for Irish like a tiger, and there 
was instantly the liveliest kind of a scrap. Dur¬ 
ing the mixup two bluewing teal that had been 
feeding in the brook flew up, and I managed to 
My partner did not notice my predicament and 
was waiting for me to shoot, consequently the 
old cock disappeared in the distance with a cack¬ 
ling “Krrrr-ak-ak-ak-ak,” sounding for all the 
A S a premise let me state right here that 
primarily skis were never intended to be 
used on crust. On a glare crust they are 
as dangerous and as uncertain in their move¬ 
ments as a bull in a china shop. One never 
knows w’hen they will take charge and run away 
with one, or whether one will be facing forward 
or backward, or indeed downward by the time 
one has reached the foot of an incline when 
using them on such a crust. 
But it was on a dull crust that the three started 
out on a day in January, and for a dull crust 
there are extenuating circumstances. To my back 
was strapped my camera. In the gentle art of 
skiing one may fall in nearly every conceivable 
position, but rarely does one fall on his back 
owing to the fact that his feet are securely 
strapped in and forestall any move in that direc¬ 
tion. 
Down the hill which leads to the lowlands all 
hunting must be condensed in that week, and as 
a result there is really more hard work than 
anything else, besides having to quit when one 
is just getting into form. 
three sped, the lawyer, with legal caution, riding 
his pole; the railroad man and the scribe, more 
accustomed to personal contact with the earth, 
riding free. With the speed of the wind the 
smooth runners ran over the crust. Fortunately 
for the railroad man and the scribe this hill pre¬ 
sented no obstacles, and all three arrived at its 
foot proper side up. 
Off across the level expanse they set out 
abreast. The skis were unruly in the matter of 
direction, but they traveled easily and wholly on 
the surface of the crust, although this gave way 
to one afoot. A cold rear wind materially aided 
their progress and they ran in among the hum¬ 
mocks of the swamp land. 
It had come off cold the night before, after 
a January thaw, and the scribe was by no means 
satisfied that there was not slush beneath the 
snow at the foot of that first hummock. Per¬ 
haps it was this that disturbed his confidence— 
A Day on the Crust 
By EDWIN C. DICKENSON 
