108 
forest and stream 
By RIPLEY 
QUOI HEE! QUOI HEE! 
THE CHEERY ECHO OF THE QUAIL 
DECIDES THE COURSE OF 
ONE CAREER 
M Y DEAR ROBERTHow well you 
knew it! The life of a trainer is 
not a bed of roses, but for days I 
could not bring myself to answer your 
letter. It meant too much to me. All 
you wrote about and planned for me was 
studied over more carefully than anything 
in my life. It recalled to me, in a way, my 
acquaintances along the river. They pro¬ 
ceed every morning to observe the river 
and the stage of water. They stare at it 
impassively. You see people like this along 
all streams of ’consequence. The villagers 
make it a resort. Try to visualize how 
they must feel away from it, then think of 
what the fields and the woods are to me. 
It is like you to be kind and thoughtful, 
and hold out the inducements of city 
existence to me, whose life in recent years 
you suppose has had only the varying mo¬ 
notony of the fields to interest. You mean 
it for my social elevation as well, and to 
wrest me from the poignant moments of 
a trainer. From that and a business point 
of view I regard it as excellent, and as 
redundant of your thoughtfulness and un¬ 
selfishness striving to assist others to lof¬ 
tier spheres. 
I fear I am tainted with wild life, and 
the woods and streams have more influence 
over me than the city. My wants now are 
merely nominal. I know, if the wild ever 
called anyone, I was the one that re¬ 
sponded. 
P ARDON a minute’s interruption. An 
old lady is here with claims against 
my self-hunting pup. It appears he 
is a goose fancier, and young as he is, lie 
has gone in for it strongly. She says six, 
and I am paying for them. It assures me 
that the goose market is soaring. 
Only yesterday a sportsman wrote me. 
He had been a great success in the busi¬ 
ness world, and now owns controlling in¬ 
terest in one of the big automobile factor¬ 
ies. His sentiments were briefly expressed: 
“I am sixty five, have made lots of money 
and have developed a bad case of stomach 
trouble. I want to get out of business. 
I hate shows. I only tolerate society. I 
want to get to your wild country as soon 
as I can sell out. What is the use of liv¬ 
ing away from rod, dog, and gun?” 
I have wandered, but now I resume. 
Talk about atavism; my ancestors surely 
shifted to me their love for the woods and 
fields. It did not exhibit itself right at 
once; but it showed abundantly when the 
real occasion presented itself. 
I was brought up in luxury, and of 
course bolted. The big financial collapse 
came—of which you have memory. I was 
away from the city at the time, in this 
country, where I am now. Something in¬ 
duced me to buy the little cabin. Now I 
know what it was; the number of quail in 
the neighborhood. I bought it, though the . 
land was poor and is yet poor, but I 
thank Fate for the noble prompting. When 
I returned to the city I found that the 
source of my income had vanished, and I 
was practically penniless. 
In another year my cabin had changed 
until you would never recognize it as the 
same place. Everything became tidy; even 
the. cheap furniture took on a new polish 
and refinement. It became such a cosy 
little nest. I smile now as I contrast the 
luxuriousness of your den. Why your 
small oriental tabourette cost more than 
everything in my shack, but it is lusterless 
and dead for the want of what my .home 
has, a blue-eyed mistress. You know I 
won her, Robert. 
To assist in running the little farm I 
got a few dogs to train. I was green about 
the farming part. And as it’s the little 
home of ours I can’t think of giving it up 
despite your kindly offer. It is remark¬ 
able how it affects to ponder over parting 
from it. The blue-eyed one and I have 
consulted, and a dearth of conclusions have 
been reached. She does not want the city, 
and neither do I, and I know the dogs well 
enough to voice their opinion. What fools 
we are to throw away the gift of the gods 
for the simplicity of outdoor life! 
My eyes close and a dream of your 
future takes precedence. I am awakened 
by the call of . the quail across in the 
adjoining fields. Out in the big stretch of 
wheat stubble I see the dog, high-headed, 
breathing every scent as he gallops. I 
gaze again, and on the ridge he has turned 
motionless, as a thing of stone. It is the 
same covey that he found yesterday. The 
faithful creature will remain there until I 
come. This is my greatest enjoyment. 
The other would be insignificant without it. 
I believe if I had to live in the heart of 
a big city for a month, I would choke for 
a breath of the wilderness. I am sure of 
it! Nature in performing my conversion 
to her ways did it well. I love lots of the 
things of your city and some of its people. 
But close to Nature I love better and fit 
better. 
Getting down to things below the sur¬ 
face, the more my wife and I have visited 
the cities the narrower we viewed. They 
say traveling broadens. It may do it for 
others, but it has done the reverse for me. 
It has narrowed me more. Your beautiful 
parks are insignificant, petty portrayals of 
what man once destroyed, and your art 
galleries show on canvas only what Nature 
exhibits every day. 
L ISTEN! Outside in the stillness of 
the close of such a beautiful October 
day, I hear them. Something has 
scattered them. Over in the sedge echoes a 
tremulous Quoi Hee! Qnoi Hee! Quoi 
Hee! The little brown gallant is running. 
From the fringe* of sumac bursts plaintive¬ 
ly, Quoi Hee! Quoi Hee! and out in the 
ragweed are many little voices calling simi¬ 
larly. Probably the swoop of a hawk has 
caused the distress. I have not heard its 
shrill call. Then there is silence after the 
voices appear to mingle. I know that they 
have gotten together. Curious, is it not, 
that I pay so much attention to the quail? 
Oh, yes, shall I or shall I not? Your 
magnificent proposal! 
Abruptly the big black and white pointer 
Mac has entered the room. The sight of 
mfi through the open door has been his 
invitation. He hears the last strain of the 
quail, perks up, then lays his head upon 
my knees. Presently he looks up. with 
those dreamy brown eyes studying my vis¬ 
age. Then I think of my love for the 
fields, and the days of pleasure I have spent 
there. I believe I read a plea in those 
eyes against you. 
Does he know my dilemma? There is a 
sadness in his face that I never noted be¬ 
fore. All my days of happiness—well— 
Hark! I hear another note down in the 
flat of sedge, vibrant in the frost-bitten air 
of evening. It is the final call to his kind, 
and as the quail lingers clear on his Quoi 
Hee! I feel it influencing me. I must 
answer immediately. I will not accept, for 
I am powerless to resist the call of the wild! 
