bell before getting up. Don will pick up the dead ones. You take the first bird that gets up."

"Let him go,” says Ned, "any time, and if I don't knock the stuff

"Ha ha! Just what I expected when it flew up. It rose against the wind, and when you fired the first barrel it wasn't twenty feet from you, coming almost into your face. You missed it with the second, because your first miss rattled you. Don't be in such a rush when they get up. I thought you would shoot too quick and miss it, so I was prepared for it.

"See! Don has just picked it up, and it's only about thirty yards from us; I had plenty of time to kill it after you fired both barrels. You see what the dog did? He marked the bird and has gone and got it while you and I stand talking here.

"Now, watch him give it to me.

"That's right! Good boy! See, he sits on his haunches, raises his nose to me, and I take the bird from his mouth, without having to stoop over a particle. If there is anything I dislike, it's having a dog half retrieve; or, when bringing the bird all right, to walk around me, ducking his head, and constantly keeping the bird out of reach; or, dropping it on the ground at my feet, worse still, jumping up, putting his paws on me, splashing and plastering mud over my clothes. The latter is decidedly dangerous, and especially so if one is shooting with a hammer gun.

"Look at your feet, Ned!"

"What's the matter with my feet? I don't see any thing," replied Ned.

"Don't you see those holes about as large around as a pencil? They have been boring here for worms, and

have been having a grand time. Keep a sharp watch, for this place must be full of them.'

"There now! good shot! A tailer, and you grassed him beautifully If you make many shots like that, I shall leave all the tailers for you."

66

Thanks, William. I am free to admit that those infernal cross shots I never could make, but straightaway! they are the ones I am after. When I was in Dakota after chickens, I never

"Good enough! you ought to have missed it! Got up right under your feet, and went straight away,your favorite shot, too. Here you were going to tell how you made a record in Dakota on straight-away shots, and missed the softest kind of a one, while trying to convince me of your skill."

66

Well, I'll be blamed! Honestly, I felt sorry for that snipe when I shot, for I thought it was too easy. Icertainly held on it."

"Don't doubt but you did, Ned. The reason you missed was, at the instant you pulled the trigger the snipe changed its intentions, dropped about three feet as if it was going to light, then, at the crack of your gun concluded to move on. I didn't shoot, because the smoke from your gun bothered me."

Thus the time passed away, until between us, with frequent misses and many brilliant shots, we had bagged about thirty birds. We had tramped steadily for full two hours, and Ned realized the fact when he said:

"Look here, Will! In ancient times they used to punish violaters of the law, by placing them on racks and forcibly pulling their limbs apart. Do you know I think they make a great mistake? What they ought to

have done was, made them hunt snipe in such walking as this. Honestly, I believe I have dislocated my spine, pulled apart some of the ligaments of my body, and sprained my right ankle. Thunder! but I am tired."

I most certainly could not deny this assertion, and the heavy manner in which he dragged his weary legs along proved it. Poor fellow! I can imagine I see him now.

"Hark! What's that noise," said he, "I have heard it for the last half-hour."

Directing his attention to a small speck in the air overhead, I replied:

"The noise you hear is made by a jack-snipe. On warm, bright days, singly, sometimes two or three will arise to a great height, so high, indeed, that they become at times indistinct. When at an extreme height they describe a circle from fifty to eighty yards in diameter; then suddenly descend with the greatest rapidity for thirty or forty yards, then ascend again. The noise made is in their descent, caused, probably, by their wings cutting the air, making that strange, quivering, tremulous sound you have heard so often to-day. Some hunters ascribe it to their becoming uneasy, and as an indication of their intending leaving for some other feeding ground. Others say it's their way of courting, and the frank acknowledgment on the part of the male that he wishes to choose a mate. But the more practical hunters say they do it because they know they are the only bird that can do it with grace and rapidity-"

"Ned," said I, let's get out of this."

We were in a place where the bogs were from one to three feet apart.