
Staunch as a@ graven image. 
lar Bluff at seven o’clock on a 
north-bound ’Frisco train for a 
two days’ quail hunt in Stoddard 
County. In the baggage car I had 
three pointers that would instantly 
arrest the attention of any sportsman. 
However, they were all young fellows 
and only partially trained. An old re- 
liable pointer was left at home to re- 
cuperate from a week’s hard work he 
had just gone through. 
Dressed in my hunting togs, I was 
making good use of the smoking car 
when the train stopped at Idlewild, a 
station which was, at that time, south- 
east Missouri’s Mecca for duck hunt- 
ers. A gentleman, dressed in duck 
hunter’s garb, came through the car, 
stopped opposite me, held out his hand 
Oy December evening I left Pop- 
and said, “How-do-you-do, sir? My 
name is Clark.” He was just the sort 
of fellow one instinctively likes. I re- 
plied, ““How-do-you-do, Mr. Clark? My 
name is Welker; share my seat.” He 
stated that he had been duck hunting, 
and when loading a very satisfactory 
day’s kill into the baggage car, he saw 
three attractive looking bird dogs, and 
observing my dress, took me to be their 
master. 
LARK was a seasoned and experi- 
enced sportsman and I am sure I 
make no mistake when I say we both 
had that feeling of kinship which 
unites the lovers of dog and gun, the 
country over, into one great brother- 
hood. Clark impressed me as being 
one of those noblemen we do not meet 
at every turn, and by the way, I have 
a sneaking idea that I usually know a 
sportsman when I see him. We ex- 
changed reminiscences until within a 
few miles of my destination. I felt 
like extending him an invitation to 
take a day afield with me, and have 
always been glad I did it. He knew 
my invitation was prompted by a genu- 
ine desire to spend a day with him fol- 
666 
lowing the dogs, so he readily accept- 
ed. The day set was one three weeks 
hence and near the end of the season. 
The whistle sounded for my station, 
we hastily said good-bye to each other 
and Clark went on his way to St. Louis 
(that is where he lives) and I to my 
shooting ground. I would like to tell 
you about those two days also, for they 
were filled with those pleasures found 
only when working spirited young bird 
dogs. 
(AE eight o’clock one evening a 
week later, my telephone rang. 
It was Clark on long distance. He in- 
formed me that the evening weather 
report indicated very severe weather 
would strike us within the next forty- 
eight hours and if we did any quail 
shooting, we had better do it ahead of 
the impending northerrer. I readily 
agreed to go next day and Clark said, 
“You turn in for a good night’s rest. 
On my arrival, I’ll go to the Ducker 
Hotel, and you meet me there in the 
morning.” Within an hour Clark was 
aboard a fast train rapidly covering 
the one hundred sixty-five miles be- 
tween St. Louis and. Poplar Bluff. 
My reliable pointer, Old Joe, a vete- 
Following 
Bob White 
in Arkansas 
A Good Day’s Hunt 
With Pointers 
By WEB WELKER 
ran of several seasons, was a very large 
white and lemon dog. In fact, he was 
so large that his size really detracted 
from his appearance. He was the 
largest pointer I have ever seen, but 
let me say here, the Almighty wasted 
no raw material in putting that dog 
together, for he was as good as he 
was big. 
ie the field he has few equals and, I 
venture to say, rarely a superior. 
Early next morning I telephoned 
Clark at the hotel. He assured me 
he was “on his toes” and had an 
itching trigger finger. Thirty minutes 
later Old Joe and I stalked into the 
hotel lobby. Clark was drowsily loung- 
ing in an easy chair. I shall never 
forget the look of disappointment in 
his face when he gave Old Joe the 
“once over.” He promptly made in- 
quiry about the young dogs he had seen 
on the train, and said he had looked 
forward to a day with those dogs. I 
felt sure of my judgment in selecting 
Old Joe for our day, so Clark’s veiled 
suggestion went over my head. 
We loaded guns, ammunition and 
lunch into the car, carefully blanketed 
Old Joe and placed him in the tonneau 

In another year these youngsters will know all about quail. 

