water that lipped the margin. Then 
he turned and walked downstream. 
He looked like a circus-horse going 
through his paces. Then he walked out 
into the stream (the creek was here 
about fifteen yards wide) and there 
stood with his head held high. Once he 
“Reaching the pile of sedge, after a hard 
swim, the dog climbed about on it in an at¬ 
tempt to locate the quail”—but read it your¬ 
self; you cannot help but enjoy this story 
whether you follow the dogs afield or not. 
that the little birds wanted to leave the 
thicket. But he considered it wise to 
keep them there. Hence as they circled, 
he did likewise; whenever they would 
come to the edge, they would find him 
there, serenely alert, always the neces¬ 
sary jump ahead of them. And this 
thing had been going on, I believe, 
for the better part of an hour. 
It illustrates the power of the 
bird-dog, while working alone, to 
do considerable figuring on his 
own account. Indeed, the aver¬ 
age intelligent setter or pointer 
in the field is talked to and called 
at too much. A dog that has 
breeding and some degree of 
breaking, hunts best when per¬ 
mitted to “have his head.” Many 
a time a good dog has been whistled off 
a perfectly good scent in an unpromis¬ 
ing piece of cover by a hunter who 
thought the cover a little farther ahead 
looked better. 
This incident happened down in 
North Carolina, in a deep mountain 
pass where through surged a wild little 
river. There were plenty of quail 
there; but they had 
a way of leaving 
the narrow fields 
and of heading 
straight for the 
laurel-sided hills. 
Any man who can, 
while climbing 
those miniature 
Matterhorns, shoot 
quail in the rhodo¬ 
dendrons that 
darken their slopes, 
can qualify as a 
sniper of spirits. 
Our dog had trailed 
a covey of quail 
along the edge of 
one of these hills; 
had followed it 
through an acre of 
brown wet stubble, 
and had come ahalt 
on the creek-bank. 
We got ready to 
shoot, thinking 
that the pointer 
whose nose seldom 
lies had brought the covey to stand. 
But ere we reached him, he began to 
edge up, and soon was running back 
and forth quickly in that distressed 
way of a good dog which has been badly 
baffled. We stood there beside a group 
of huge sycamores to watch Ned work 
the business out for himself. This he 
proceeded to do in the following man¬ 
ner: 
Edging his way gingerly down the 
steep bank of the broad and deep stream 
he walked about fifteen feet up one edge, 
stepping now and then in the clear 
Page 553 
turned and looked back at us. Then he 
took the plunge. The current bore him 
down somewhat, but he soon reached 
footing. Yet he did not rush out on 
the bank and shake himself; a bird-dog 
when he is hot after game never acts 
like a regular dog: he has become for 
the moment a specialist. Ned waded 
upstream deliberately, the water bein<* 
almost to his knees. When he came 
opposite us, he froze to a stand. 
“Well,” I said to my companion, 
there they are. If we are game, we 
must follow the dog across. He did a 
pretty piece of work. The covey is 
likely in that patch of blackberry-canes 
just off the larboard of Ned’s nose. 
We’ll find them.” We did. 
Mention has been made of the long 
trail that this pointer brought these 
birds. It is generally conceded that the 
pointer, being far-back probably of 
hound strain, is superior in the power 
of scenting to the setter, likely sprung 
anciently from dogs akin to spaniels. 
However it may be, these two great 
breeds have some very clearly marked 
distinctions: the pointer is all for busi¬ 
ness, is a slashing, tireless, bold, sol¬ 
dierly sort of a dog; the setter is far 
gentler, more easily handled, is 
sensitive, and is so anxious to 
please as. to be positively obliging. 
It strikes me that,in the field,there 
is not a great deal of choice; but 
at home the setter is the better 
dog to keep. As a matter of fact, 
the setter appears to be distin¬ 
guished by having what we call 
good manners; the pointer is usu¬ 
ally a rough-and-ready customer, 
milling through his work in ar¬ 
rogant style; the setter is deferential, 
dainty, and I think it is not too much 
to say that this grand breed of dogs 
has in it a high artistic strain. Men 
who know and love setters understand 
what I mean. 
But as of men, so of dogs: there are 
Kinds and kinds. Nor do some dog- 
dealers exercise what we might call a 
chivalric sense of 
honor in recom¬ 
mending those bird- 
dogs that they sell. 
In my experience 
with dogs, I have 
bought several that 
were, if their cre¬ 
dentials were to be 
believed, cham¬ 
pions; yet one was 
gun-shy; one had a 
mighty passion for 
digging up field- 
mice (of course, 
had I been com¬ 
promising and 
changed my game 
from quail to field- 
mice, I should have 
been properly 
equipped for hunt¬ 
ing) ; one chased 
the birds and gave 
tongue while so do¬ 
ing; one seemed to 
believe that we were 
out vermin - hunt¬ 
ing, for every stray field-cat, skunk, 
mole, rat, terrapin, and other wastrel 
creature that we encountered was as¬ 
sailed with joyous enthusiasm. I’ve a 
friend that bought a dog after seeing 
a dim photograph. He was told that he 
was purchasing “Champion Leglow.” He 
was after a pointer; but when the crea¬ 
ture emerged from the crate he seemed 
to appear to be a collie, with a strong 
strain of beagle in him. As a matter 
of fact, it is a harder thing to buy a 
first-class bird-dog than one would sup- 
(Continued on page 590) 
