The herald and news. [volume] (Newberry S.C.) 1903-1937, 1908-10-27
if about to fall; then recovered itself

]
aud flew on, it's legs dangling. A
chance shot had apparently broken
its back, paralyzing its legs, but leav-
ing it still strength enough to fly a
certain distance. Trained hunter as
he was, the boy watched the wounded
bird, and marked the exact spot
where it finally dropped just at the
edge of a cornfield a half mile away.
"I think I'll go after it, said the
youth.
"Nonsense," said Luther. ''It's a
half-mile away, and You have all you
want without it.
'EBut the bird is wounded. I hate
to have it lie out there and suffer. :"
"Oh. it, probably dead; or if it
isn't, some skunk or weasel will kill
it tonight. Come along"
It was nearly sunset. and the youth
was tired after the long tramp of the
day. 1t would be long trip over to
the cornfield for weary legs-and
then perhaps to find the bir3' dead.
Already it was supper time at home,
and he had a hunters appetite. So
he allowed himself to be over per-
suaded and the two tramped home
ward
But the grouse that had fallen over
in the cornfield was not dead. Nor, as
it chanced, was its wound Of a kind to
produce speedy death. The injury
did, however, render the bird utterly
helpless. Once it had dropped to the
earth. it could not rise again. Nor
could it move abcns on the ground
for its legs were p,ralyzed complete
lv. It lay on the hare earth, shelter
ed BY the cornstalks from the eyes
of hawks, and where there was not
much danger that marauding beast
would find it. But there was no food
at hand. It was doubtful even wheth-
er the bird would be able to sip a
few drops Of dew from cornstalk
to quench the thirst that its wound
must develop.
Quite obviously fate had marked
the grouse for a lingering death of
torture. It's wound. already painful,
must become more SO with the lapse
Of time. Insects would come in
phalanxes to poster it. Hunger and
thirst would add their modicum Of
agony. The greatest mercy it could
hope for would be the coming Of
some skunk or weasel. as the hunter
had suggested. to put it out Of mis-
cry. But no such messenger Of speedy
death chanced to come that way.
DR.. Williams describes the church
service the following Sunday morning,
and the awakening Of the boys mind
to fear that the wounded grouse
might not have died all these days,
and he goes on:
"The youths soul was undergoing
development in that half hour He
was making one Of those short cuts
from point Of view to point Of view.
He was passing (little as he realized
! it) from the barbarian-hunter stage
to plane Of broader sympathies.
"All through the lesson he sat
brooding the same thoughts, and as
he left the church the idea Of the
wounded bird had taken full posses
sion of his mind. Instead Of going
home, he set out for the field where
he had shot the grouse. He believed
he might find the bird even yet. At
least he would try.
"a good memory and keen eye en-
abled him to 60 about the point OF
the field from which the grouse had
flushed; and over by the cornfield
he noted the exact point (marked by
a peculiar fence post) where the
wounded bird had gone down. He
went directly to it, and had scarcely
entered the cornfield when his dog
came to a point. There ahead on
the ground lay the bird stretched at
full length. It made no effort to es-
cape as he came up. 1t was too near
death to fear him or anything, its
eyes half closed, its bill agape, as it
feebly gasped for breath.
''In an instant the youth was on
his knees beside the bird, great
lump in his throat, his eyes staring
as if they would start from their
sockets. The meaning of it all came
to him with the force Of blow.
Mechanically he brushed away the in