332 
FOREST AND S T R E A M 
June, 1918 
Here Dash began rapidly reading on some 
scent and Bill softly called, “Come here, 
Neil; I think Dash is trailing a partridge’’ 
(ruffed grouse). A short distance from us 
was a dense thicket of cat briers; stealthily 
as an Indian and silently as a shadow, 
Dash wormed his way into the thicket, 
when with a muffled roar the great bird 
took wing and crashing through the briers 
was away through thd tree tops. Instantly 
our guns were at our shoulders and two 
reports rang out as one. Stopped in mid 
air the grouse came tumbling through the 
branches, striking the leaves with a thud, 
to beat his life out with that “tattoo” of 
wings so pleasing to a sportsman’s ear. 
The bagging of this grouse made a fitting 
climax to our day’s sport, for even at that 
day they were very rare in that locality, so 
we made our way through the gathering 
gloom of the swamp toward our waiting 
conveyance, loud in our praises of the re¬ 
liable dog that followed so obediently. 
T HIRTEEN long years had completed 
their cycles and been recorded one by 
one on the pages of time, since Cur¬ 
tis and I had initiated Dash in sports afield. 
The weight of years and wear of strenu¬ 
ous service had made great changes in the 
gallant dog. His erect figure, once vibrant 
with energy was now stooped and feeble; his 
once brilliant spots of liver color were now 
a faded dingy brown; from that eloquent 
tail that once waved so proudly, long years 
of beating through brush and brier had 
worn the hair away, until now it was nearly 
bare; his muzzle was gray and grim, and 
those old eyes, once so bright with intelli¬ 
gence, were now faded and dim; but his 
nose was as sure of old, and his indomi¬ 
table courage still drove him on. 
It was nearly sundown of the last day 
but one of the shooting season, and Curtis 
and I were again together quail shooting, 
Old Dash and a younger dog to make the 
brace were beating the ground before us, 
and as we forced our way through a small 
swamp, a short distance northwest of the 
“Deep Cut,” the dogs pointed at the 
swamp’s edge; but the birds were wild and 
took wing before we were within shot. 
It was a very large covey, probably two 
joined together, the birds large and full 
grown, and we eagerly marked them down 
in the open woods, near the celebrated 
“Rock Spring.” Old Dash had marked 
them too, and true as the needle to the 
pole the old fellow made for the exact 
spot, while we followed after, expecting 
great sport. Methodically the old dog beat 
out the ground, but no birds; then he ex¬ 
tended his beat a little farther—and went 
over the ground again, still no birds. The 
old dog was nonplussed, and so were we, 
for we had marked them down to a yard. 
Once again both dogs went over the spot 
foot by foot, and then old Dash came in, 
and seating himself on end, gravely looked 
his master in the eye, as much as to say, 
“What’s the matter?” We then made a 
wide cast and hunted that portion of the 
woods thoroughly, still no quail. 
It was now getting dusk, and we reluc¬ 
tantly gave it up, and departed for home, 
very much puzzled over the matter. As 
we walked along, I told Bill of my reading 
in Frank Forrester’s writings of the abil¬ 
ity of quail to withhold their scent, but 
Bill did not then believe it, so we parted 
with the understanding that we would try 
them again next morning. Bright and 
early we were on the ground, and again 
the dogs pointed the covey, within a few 
yards of where they had found them the 
evening before. Again they rose wild, and 
we marked them down exactly where we 
had before. Once more the dogs went 
over the ground with the same results. 
To say we were puzzled is putting it mildly. 
“Where in the world can they be, Bill?” 
—“I’ll be darned if I know; if we did not 
have old Dash here, I would lay it to the 
dogs, but I have never known him to fail 
before, so it surely can’t be that. There 
is some other unknown reason.” 
As Dash was bringing a dead quail 
past one of the piles of wood, he whirled and pointed with the bird in his mouth 
