Forest and Stream 
160 
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all run clown, thin and un¬ 
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DENT MEDICINE CO„ 
Newburgh, N. Y. 
SHOOTING DOGS WANTED 
1 have owned and developed the greatest Field _ Trial 
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R. K. (BOB) ARMSTRONG, Roba, Alabama. 
Is This Worth the Price? 
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FOREST AND STREAM 
Sportsmen’s 
Book 
Catalog 
Sent Free Upon Request 
screen of branches slightly obstructing 
my view. 
Imagine my dismay when two sharp 
cracks came from that same old re¬ 
peater and I heard Bill carefully coax¬ 
ing the young pointers to retrieve the 
dead birds while I stood in the gully with 
an empty gun; the only results of my 
shooting being a few leaves from a live- 
oak whisked away by the gentle breeze. 
That was enough. I would win some 
time and then I could boast, for it would 
be an achievement; but as it was-—-well, 
I didn’t have a fair shot in the first 
place. Finally we quit the brushy hill¬ 
side and stepped out on the flat top, 
where we had started at first. Once in 
the open we dropped down to rest on a 
mossy old rock almost with a thud. The 
dogs hurried to us panting heavily, but 
ever whining as if reprimanding us for 
hesitating. Presently our thoughts were 
wandering away as if we were in an¬ 
other life. There we sat on the upper¬ 
most edge of the little hillock that over¬ 
looked many miles of timber land that 
marked the course of the winding river. 
Already our minds were stealing away 
from us overwhelmed by thoughts of the 
first happenings of the yet unfinished 
hunt. But the Colonel soon broke the 
spell. 
“What’s the idea of our sitting here 
like idiots when it’s only two hours ’til 
this license will only be good to start a 
fire with? What do you say, do we wait 
ten months or ten months and two hours 
before we drop another bird?” 
“Ten months only,” was my answer, 
and we were off again with something 
new ahead of us to think about. The 
stiff grass rustled against our leggings 
as we hustled off with renewed vigor. 
The pointers ranged with such swiftness 
and alertness that it seemed they might 
continue their task indefinitely. Loaded 
shells still comprised the principal 
weight in our coat pockets, for we had 
taken no heavy toll from the first covey, 
which only added to our anxiety for 
striking new prospects. 
After an hour of uneventful hunting 
we swung around in the direction of 
home. The lull in shooting had started 
Bill to talking, a thing he seldom does 
on such an occasion as this. I saw that 
he was not watching closely and faint 
hopes presented themselves that even 
yet I might beat him at shooting. It was 
growing late, but still I had hopes. 
After several minutes of watchful wait¬ 
ing Bill began growling about his coat 
being too hot when I noticed that the 
dogs’ actions gave evidence of a find. 
I did everything possible to divert his 
attention. Presently he again mentioned 
the coat and I saw out of the corner of 
my eye that one of the dogs had pointed 
some distance to the left. 
“Why don’t you take it off?” I asked, 
trying to be sympathetic. 
“That’s a good idea. Guess I’ll try 
carrying it awhile.” Slowly he leaned 
the wicked looking repeater on a bush 
and unbuttoned the coat that I thought 
had brought my great luck. 
“Sure get up steam walkin’,” he 
drawled as he slipped it over his shoul¬ 
ders. 
Eagerly I awaited my chance. An 
arm hung, and I hurst out with, “Look 
yonder.” 
I had to beat him to it. It was an 
awful thing to do, but I had to outdo 
the Crafty Colonel somehow. How cock¬ 
sure I was when the birds went up. 
Surely I would get three by lining two 
with the first barrel. But at the next 
moment prospects didn’t look so well. I 
took a chance for two at one shot. 
Bang—a clean miss. Then the second 
followed bringing only a winged bird. 
Bill came strolling up carrying his 
coat and grinning. I felt that I was 
suffering with an intense fever or sun¬ 
stroke or something, hut was relieved by 
Bill’s remark: 
“Guess it’s no use worrying after any 
more, the light’s failing some.” 
“Think not,” I replied quickly, “I’m 
getting hot anyway. Think I’ll carry mv 
coat.” And I was only too glad to be 
on my way. 
Bill heaved his gun to his shoulder 
with a sigh and I saw that he had en¬ 
joyed the afternoon. So had I. And 
really who would have not? As we 
trudged homeward we saw the little 
town two miles away with a dense smoke 
settled over it, for the breeze had died 
away. The sun had set, leaving only a 
red glow in the west. We looked at the 
old peak as we always did and still it 
stood, dark and mighty, with the last 
glint of sunlight reflected from high up 
on its westward side. It stood out in 
wonderful silhouette against a sky that 
was clear excepting a few smoky streaks 
that closely fringed the horizon. Twi¬ 
light seemed to herald a heavy frost 
with the coming of nightfall. Aside 
from the sounds of our walking all was 
silent save the shrill notes of the Bob- 
Whites as the scattered covey was being 
called together. Little did they know 
they would not be disturbed again for 
almost a year. _ 
IN THE HEART OF NOVA 
SCOTIA 
(Continued from page 146) 
lieve a cow waited, but he was not un¬ 
duly advertising the fact and wished to 
avoid the risk of a combat with a more 
mature bull. 
For fully twenty minutes we followed 
his progress along the shore. At any 
time within that period he offered him¬ 
self a target for the merest tyro among 
marksmen. But I could not bring my¬ 
self to regret that the hunting season 
was not yet open or that the most lethal 
weapon we had with us was a camera. 
That magnificent animal slaughtered 
could never have possessed the interest 
and attraction he compelled as he stood 
there most truly a king, looking over 
the expanse of lake and woodland which 
was his kingdom. Disappointed and 
doubtless somewhat puzzled he returned 
to the woods. 
“I’m satisfied,” I said. “Me, too,” said 
my companion, and the guide smiled. 
The rays of the rising sun were now 
warm upon our blankets as we dipped 
in the paddles and plied our way back 
to camo and breakfast. 
In writ in tj to Advertisers mention Forest and Stream. It will identify you. 
