FOREST AND STREAM 
211 
line of expression, as it were. Let me state 
that when he came up that hill he certain¬ 
ly looked like a winner, and as though he 
could finish any old thing he cared to 
start. As he reared up, I shot again and 
so did my companion, and we proceeded 
to ring the echoes of that canyon. My 
second bullet turned him, and after com¬ 
ing a way further he turned and ran down 
hill, by which I knew he was dead meat. 
I shot three times more, but over-shot each 
time, as is common when shooting down 
hill. Besides, he was hitting a gait that 
would dazzle Barney Oldfield. 
“Suddenly his hind legs dragged, he 
broke down, and crashed into the creek 
bed dead as a nail. My first shot had en¬ 
tered back of the shoulder and came out 
just ahead of the right flank; the second 
entered the right shoulder and criss¬ 
crossed. Those were the only two bullets 
in him, and I have them both in my pocket 
now, while his skin is being made into a 
rug.” 
WHEN THE HUNTED 
FOILED THE HUNTER 
By George L. Kirk 
II. Some Bucks That Escaped 
A HUGE buck—one with magnificent 
antlers—outwitted the writer the most 
completely of any animal he ever en¬ 
countered. 
He had been tracked to his bed, which 
was situated so that it permitted him a good 
view of approaching danger. The track was 
a plain one, and the hunter had used all 
the craftiness he possessed in approaching 
the spot. 
The bed was warm. The deer must have 
left it only just in time to avoid the hunter, 
and of course must have put a safe dis¬ 
tance between himself and his pursuer. But 
to make sure, the man with the rifle looked 
carefully in every direction, and ej*amined 
every grey-brown object on which his eyes 
fell. 
No, there was no deer in sight. He would 
sit down on a stump for a while; someone 
else might start a deer in that direction. 
Crack! off to the left. 
What was that? A glance told the story. 
The buck had been standing perfectly 
still, in plain sight of the hunter and not 
more than io rods distant, all that time. 
Let’s See You Take My Picture in 
the Fall, When I’ve Got My Antlers. 
And now the only thing the nimrod saw of 
him was the tips of his shining antlers as he 
bounded away. 
Then there was the buck that appeared 
out of a brush-pile when the hunter’s feet 
went out from under him as he slid down a 
snow-covered incline. To the right and 
straight ahead were fine open woods, which 
would give a beautiful opportunity for a 
running shot. But his deership preferred 
hiding to speed, and before the hunter could 
regain his equilibrium, had jumped into a 
T HE Irish Setter Club has asked me to 
allow a letter of mine on the Irish 
setter in England to be published. I 
am quite willing, but if they want an opin¬ 
ion, I think I can let them have something 
not quite so hurried. 
I traveled across to the Old Country on 
the same steamer as Mr. J. S. Wall, and 
we had many chats on Irish setters. I 
told him I was going to bring back a good 
dog when I returned, and he replied that I 
wouldn’t find any. At that, I made up 
my mind that if there was such a thing as 
a good one, I’d bring it if I could. 
After I got settled, I began to look 
aiound. The first dog I saw was a nice 
one, with the invariable “bad tail car- 
liage.” This dog was Brynmor Phil. I 
liked him well enough to buy a son, which 
I afterwards sold on account of his coat 
and feather. 
I next went to London to a sporting dog 
show—the poorest collection of dogs I 
ever saw, of all breeds. Mr. Swann was 
there, and agreed that they were a poor 
lot. Then I saw my first Irish, and I was 
very disappointed. They were ordinary. 
One dog was brought into the ring in such 
bad condition that he would neither stand 
nor walk. This was Rheola Squire, crip¬ 
pled with rheumatism, his owner said. 
Imagine dragging the poor beast in like 
that. 
T ipperary bhoy was the best dog 
there, and the only one in any sort 
of shape. He is very light all over, 
and bitchy in appearance. 
I afterwards went to Crufts, Manches¬ 
ter, and Richmond. There are only about 
six shows over there where proper classifi¬ 
cation is given to Irish setters. I also vis¬ 
ited the kennels of Mrs. Ingle-Bepler, Dr 
Baldwin, and Rev. M. Williams. I saw 
enough of Mr. Carberry’s dogs without 
trying to get there. 
The English Irish setter is fading fast; 
the type is being lost sight of except by 
a couple of breeders. I was told every¬ 
where that the setter was dying out for 
field work for two reasons; one, they didn’t 
retrieve (not because they couldn’t, but 
because they mustn’t) ; and two—because 
they were too big for an automobile. The 
woodroad made some thirty years before. 
It was so gullied out by water that it com¬ 
pletely hid the fleeting form, except for the 
antlers and crown of the head when the 
buck was at the top of his jumps. Three 
times the repeater spoke, without effect; 
and then the deer reached level ground. 
His speed slackened; he turned broadside; 
he stopped still and eyed the man up on 
the hill that was making all the noise. 
Then the rifle jammed. 
So there is no more to this story. 
beautiful Irish setter is being allowed to 
run to seed, because a few men said the 
title of champion must be won in the field 
first. Putting the cart before the horse, 
a dog of mixed breeding turns out fine in 
the field, as they have proved; but a mixed 
one wouldn’t do on the bench. 
With the exception of about four dogs, 
the Irish setter in England is a poor thing, 
which painted white would be English. 
They have plain heads, heavy in skull, 
short and extremely square in muzzle; 
very deep stop; deep set eyes, with plain 
expression (I have even seen an under¬ 
shot dog; his mouth must have been un¬ 
dershot half an inch at least, and this dog 
has taken winners). 
T HEY are wide in front, and invari¬ 
ably out at elbow. The winner at 
Richmond was very much out, and 
carries his title because he can work. The 
bodies are long, also the tails, which are 
carried high; and the feet! they are nearly 
without exception hair feet, very wide be¬ 
tween the toes, and very flat. The color 
is light; in fact, I saw several yellow, and 
there was a great deal of white. 
The truth is that if the breeders in Eng¬ 
land are not careful they will have lost 
one of the most intelligent, loving, and 
beautiful “pals,” and the most willing, un¬ 
tiring, staunchest shooting-dog. It is a 
great pity as the blood is the finest. 
The most prominent Irish setter breeder 
today on the other side has the poorest 
dogs. He is doing the breed more harm 
than good, and the few, sadly few, breed¬ 
ers who are trying to breed to the old 
type that their ancestors bred before them, 
are being lost sight of. The O’Callaghan 
strain was the finest strain there was. 
Mrs. Ingle-Bepler started with that strain, 
and the Rev. O’Callaghan was a wonder¬ 
ful breeder indeed. You have to hunt for 
the real old blood today, and I am glad to 
say I bought one and won reserve win¬ 
ners in New York this year. Otto Pohl’s 
Morty O'ge was another. 
I HOPE the Irish setter in North Amer¬ 
ica will always be Irish. May his head 
be oval in skull, not high and round, 
nor low and flat, but oval, inclining in 
(continued on page 239.) 
mfB 
mSMMIEIL 
15L*u=sdi3iJ 
THE IRISH SETTER IN BRITAIN 
IF HE IS ON THE DECLINE THERE IT 
IS NOT BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT 
