400 
FOREST AND STREAM 
SEPTEMBER, 1917 
searched and searched in the giant cover, 
whistled, sang, shouted, and finally I fired 
a gun to attract their attention. By chance 
I averted my head in the direction of the 
buckboard, and descried our driver ges¬ 
ticulating wildly, and trying as I found 
later to get my attention toward the river. 
“Reckon he knows where he is point¬ 
ing?” questioned Ray. 
“You bet!” I responded quickly. I was 
on my tiptoes. I was surveying the river 
from where I stood on a fallen cotton¬ 
wood log. It scattered through small 
willow and grass grown islets by divers 
ramifications. At first I saw nothing, but 
a second observation was rewarded by a 
sight of Master and John pointing on one 
of the islets contiguous to the bank. 
At that minute Ray called to me, point¬ 
ing at them. His eyes had been as suc¬ 
cessful as mine. 
Not conversant with what the interven¬ 
ing shallows might have in store for us 
in the shape of undependable sand bottom, 
I fired my gun. Two birds rose, and Ray 
skillfully stopped both. They fell into the 
shallow river, and the two dogs shared the 
task of retrieving them. 
That afternoon every bird in that river 
flat beat it for the thickets of cottonwood. 
Even in the densest growth they were far 
easier to kill than quails in the southern 
timber; for they had solved none of their 
intricacies of cover flight, but instead for 
safety resorted to flushing far ahead of the 
dogs. Some absolutely refused to lay to 
a dog’s point. 
Nevertheless we considered our day in 
every way a successful one. The sun was 
just lingering at the summit of the sand¬ 
hills. Twice John pointed jackrabbits, 
showing a reasonable inclination to chase, 
had not his handler been so close. But 
even with that he showed remarkable self 
denial, and continued clinging to the pace 
set by his sturdy father. 
We turned back, coursing toward where 
we had seen the buckboard last. Dusk was 
coming fast. John slipped into another 
false alarm—an elusive jackrabbit. He 
behaved at the sound of the whistle. Again 
he ranged out, and came abruptly to a 
point in the bunch grass where the south 
slope of a chain of sandhills joined the 
flat. The bird must have run, for the dog 
ran about thirty yards and suddenly 
stopped on point. He did this five or six 
times. 
“I’ll bet the finest supper in—city,” cried 
the Kansas, “that John is fooling along 
and pointing a young jackrabbit, and the 
rabbit is slipping around in there teasing 
him.” 
“I’ll go you!” I ventured in return: 
“That is a crippled chicken, and it’s got the 
youngster guessing some!” 
“Jackrabbit!” 
“Crippled chicken!” 
Master detached himself from some¬ 
where in the remote dusk, and came to 
John. He felt out John’s point, also mo¬ 
mentarily indulging in the youngster’s per¬ 
formance. 
“Jackrabbit!” reiterated Ray. “Remem¬ 
ber the bet—one big supper!” 
“Crippled chicken,” I asserted strongly, 
“and the supper bet goes.” 
The stopping and running was too much 
for Master’s nervous system. So he tried 
his old swinging circle for the wind, and 
nailed that wild enigma with a spectacular 
upstanding point. Whatever it was, it was 
now located between John and Master, who 
were not twenty feet apart. 
“I’ll take the right on that chicken!” 
“Jackrabbit!” persisted Ray stubbornly. 
Whirr! Whirr! Whirr! Whirr! A 
big bird got up to the left, and started out 
at good speed. It was not an easy shot in 
that dim light, but Ray spilled it cleanly 
on the grass with his right barrel. 
“Chicken!” I declared, much amused at 
Ray’s failure to identify the object of the 
dog’s point. 
The youngster came to Ray with the 
bird in his mouth. 
“Chicken!” I cried again to Ray. 
“Chicken, nothing,” retorted the Kan¬ 
san. “We both lose; you should have 
said Chink!” he shouted, as he flung at me 
a beautiful ringneck pheasant for my ob¬ 
servation. 
Dogs that are worked hard on the 
prairies frequently suffer with sore feet, 
that is, the pads become worn so thin that 
they are unable to* use them. The follow¬ 
ing treatment is recommended in Modern 
Breaking: Wash the feet and dry care¬ 
fully, pour half a pint of oil of tar into 
a shallow pan, place the dog’s foot in the 
tar and then in a pan of Fuller’s earth. 
Repeat every other day for a week. 
