158 
Forest and Stream 
Established Twenty-two Years 
Prices Again Reduced 
November 1st! 
Here is the ideal four-cycle engine for 
15-ft. to 18-ft. fishing boats. Weight 
135 lbs. Starts easily; throttles 
to slow trolling speed. 
Price $120 
REGAL ENGINES 
made in 1 7 sizes, 
one to eight cyl¬ 
inders, and built 
for long, hard ser¬ 
vice. Catalogue and 
new low price list 
on request. 
Regal Gasoline 
Engine Company 
Division Street 
Coldwater, Michigan 
FOLLOW THE DOLLARS 
$50 to $100 per week, the money yours ; 
something new, not an old, wornout proposition , 
field untouched; experience unnecessary ; takes 
everybody hy storm; money rolls in ; show 50, 
sell 40 ; demonstrated in one minute; sells on 
demonstration; the new Inkless Fountain Pen, 
the twentieth-century wonder; never leaks or 
spills ; with this pen no more use for the ink- 
bottle ; sample pen, 50c. ; this proposition is 18- 
karat ; money back if not as represented , agent s 
profit 200 per cent.; exclusive territory; send 
for pen and agency today. 
INKLESS FOUNTAIN PEN CO. 
1522 Eighth Street, Desk 14, Des Moines, la. 
RAISING SILVER BLACK FOXES 
A VERY PROFITABLE BUSINESS 
We will have a few pair of our Pedigreed and Registered 
ALASKAN STRAIN 1923 Puppies For Sale this Spring. 
These beautiful animals are direct descendants of a strain 
of foxes that have proven their prolificness and ability to 
breed true to color for over FIFTEENYEARb... 
MR. PROSPECTIVE FOX-RANCHER you cannot afford 
to start- with any other than THE VERY BEST STOCK 
OBTAINABLE. You should therefore send for our various 
sales plans TO-DAY. 
MILWAUKEE SILVER BLACK FOX CO. 
208 Wells Bldg. Milwaukee, Wis. 
ZIP-ZIP 
vc If you like hunting 
dU T5I and outdoor sport, 
you cannot afford to do without 
this remarkable shooter. Scientifi¬ 
cally and practically made, prong 
made of beautiful metal, fine Zip- 
Zip rubbers with plenty of pep and 
force. Thousands of boys are made 
happy with this wonderful Zip-Zip. Order 
from us or your dealer. 
Zip-Zip complete 35c. 
or 3 for $1.00. 
AUTOMATIC RUBBER CO. 
Dept. 102. COLUMBIA, S. C. 
SLEEP inTfour Ford! 
Avoid hotel bills — 
and flimsy tents. 
Sleep comfo'tably 
in your Ford Sedan. 
No weather worues. 
Stop and sleep any¬ 
where. Plenty of 
room for two large 
people in the Fold- 
away Ford Bed. Roomy dressing space. Ready for 
use 'n 4 minutes — collapses to golf bag size and 
weighs only I? lbs. Easy to set up — doesn't injure 
Ford. Sedan or open car models —$1450. Also 
made for other open cars — write for details. Ask 
for catalog of Wayside Outing Clothing. 
SEND NO MONEY ! Mail your order now—pay 
postman or expressman on delivery. Satisfaction guar¬ 
anteed or money back! Agents wanted. Order from 
Outers Equipmt. Co., 8 1 7 Mayer Bldg. Milwaukee.Wis. 
TRAINING THE HUNTING DOG. By B. 
Waters. This book is claimed by many dis¬ 
tinguished owners of hunting dogs to be the 
most practical volume ever put together for the 
complete training of dogs for the field and 
hunting. Mr. Waters is the author of several 
most successful dog books ever published. 
Cloth. $3.00. Write, 
FOREST AND STREAM (Book Dept.) 
9 East 40th Street New York City 
GLORIOUS DAYS WITH 
THE QUAIL 
(Continued from page 106) 
brambles. Our belief was strengthened 
by the dogs’ trailing toward the river. 
It was Bill’s greatest desire, on that 
first day of the season, to get the bag 
limit and he lacked only two birds; but 
guns were resting heavily on our shoul¬ 
ders and weary legs brought thoughts 
of home and rest, to say nothing of 
those longing thoughts that go hand in 
hand with an empty stomach and be¬ 
sides those well bulged pockets of our 
hunting coats gave sufficient evidence 
that our little jaunt had been successful 
enough, so to my satisfaction Bill de¬ 
cided to let well enough alone. 
Slowly we plodded along, now 
through the tall dead grass of an unused 
meadow, now through a stubble patch 
or over a strip of freshly plowed ground, 
talking of the various hits and misses, 
the successful and failing points of our 
dog training, the location of different 
coveys and plans for our next hunt; 
or reveling in the beauties of old-time 
scenery that we had known from boy¬ 
hood, but which seemed always to grow 
more and more beautiful and pleasing. 
We were just commenting on an old 
peak which lay a full thirty miles away 
when four almost unnoticed pointers 
that had continued eagerly on the hunt 
froze as one at a brushy old fence row. 
This was altogether unexpected, for we 
had almost forgotten the hunt as we 
trudged along talking of incidents that 
had passed into history. Quickly I 
looked at Bill and likewise Bill looked 
at me. Surely he was thinking of those 
two birds he needed to fill his bag to the 
limit. We had only a short time to 
think, however, for our jogging had 
ceased and a livelier pace had brought 
us quickly to where the covey had gath¬ 
ered to remain under cover until even’- 
time when they would again go out to 
feed. All was alertness. Guns were 
ready for immediate action, for we were 
positive that this would be the last 
shooting for that day. But the birds 
were a bit hard to rout from the thick 
patch of brambles and I was busily en¬ 
gaged in untangling myself from a 
barbed wire fence when they whizzed 
out. Strange as it may seem they went 
in all directions. 
Bang! Bang! Bill’s gun was dealing 
death, for I plainly saw a bird crumble 
at each report. I had no more time for 
wire and clothing and leaped free of the 
fence. A few naturally resulting rip¬ 
ping sounds were cut short by another 
bang! Bill had lined with a third as it 
sailed off to the left. Down it went— 
winged—and marked down by one of 
the pups that soon had it caught. As I 
took the bird from the dog I called to 
Bill that we had him. 
“Good, keep ’im. I’ve got all I want. 
You and the dog are responsible for that 
bird. I nearly went over the limit— 
understand? Guess that’s what they 
call a tight fight with a short stick. 
What say?” 
So the first day passed, never to be 
forgotten as long as the call of a Bob- 
white is remembered. Likewise many 
other hunts during the season passed and 
each singular incident and odd shot that 
bore interest of mutual importance to 
us. But really, it was all just quail 
hunting, and that was enough, yet we 
must not forget those goodly feasts that 
always followed a successful trip. 
W E had just “gotten in a good way,” 
as the old timer says, when it 
dawned upon us that the season was 
drawing to a close. You bet we would 
have a hunt on that last day! We 
would go, rain or shine, or anything, so 
as usual, anticipation played a great 
part, for plans were carefully made and 
enjoyed. But all too often Hard Luck 
interferes at the most important moment. 
So it was on the morning of the last 
day of the season. Unheard of circum¬ 
stances arose, and it mattered not 
whether our broilers had swooped down 
upon the neighbors’ front yard flower 
bed as a result of a broken fence or that 
we had remembered at the last moment 
that the second mortgage had fallen due. 
The main idea was to get the matter at¬ 
tended to as soon as possible. 
When we were at last ready to depart 
in pursuit of our beloved pastime, it was 
high noon. This was indeed quite an 
odd time for Bill and me to start after 
quail, for we always made it a point to 
get them during the early feeding hour. 
We knew this was to be a real hunt, for 
we must flush them from the shady briar 
patches and liveoak thickets. Therefore, 
as the cornfield coveys had long since 
been thinned to the minimum, we beat 
it off to a distant cover we thought most 
likely. It was midafternoon when we 
arrived. A slight breeze blowing from 
the northwest continually shifted the 
thin white clouds that streaked the skies. 
Our way led up a steep and thinly 
wooded hillside. Scrubby little trees 
stood black and bare save for patches of 
moss that stood out in strong contrast 
against the blacks and browns of winter. 
A few remaining crows cawed lazily on 
that sleepy afternoon as a slightly 
dimmed sun cast abroad the spell of the 
fast approaching springtime. We hardly 
expected to find any birds before reach¬ 
ing the top of the rise where there were 
numerous small thickets and where a 
coarse tall grass abounded; but, never¬ 
theless, the dogs were given the com¬ 
mand and quickly began to work up¬ 
ward. The three young dogs had 
turned out to be excellent workers, in 
fact, even better than we had expected, 
and, seemingly with as much skill and 
enjoyment as their mother, they scented 
carefully as they ranged widely up the 
little hill. We had them all named now 
—Dick, Tom and Harry—and, indeed, 
our careful training and watchful wait¬ 
ing had not been in vain. 
“There’s some dogs that would please 
anybody in another year,” Bill said 
thoughtfully as he watched their every 
move and seemed to forget all else. 
The climbing was becoming tiresome 
when Bill called my attention to some¬ 
thing in a low voice. I looked. Old Tip 
stood rigid with one forefoot raised 
from the ground. But it was only a 
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