The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-11-23
W hal Litt.e Red
 Parlridges Think

the Hunted-Feelings and
 Emotions of Youthful
 Member of Feathered
 Tribe-His First Experi-
 ence at Dodging Hunters. (Translated from the French of AL
 phonse DaudetS by Mrs. J. w.
 Phelps, Bolton.)
 Everybody knows that cartridges travel about in flocks and hide to- gether in the bottom of furrows and that they fly out at the least suspicion of danger. scattering in their flight like handful of grain thrown from the sower's hand. Our band is a gay crowd, with many members, which has settled in a level field near the edge of a big wood. There is some booty there and what is more the best of shelter on two sides.
 Since I have known how to run and got we'll feathered out, am enjoy ing life very much. But there is one thing that bOthers me a little It is this wonderful opening of the hunt of which our mothers have begun to talk among themselves in low voices. An old bird in our flock used always to say to me whenever this subject came up: Don't be afraid, Rouget," that's what they call me because my bill and feet are red. Don't be afraid, Rouget. I'll take you along with me the first day of the hunting season and I am sure that nothing will hap pen to you.''
 He is wicked old bird, very old half circle already on his breast, and some white feathers here and there. When he was quite young he got a charge of lead in one wing, which made him little slow. so that he thinks twice before flying. Often he led me with him to the edge of the wood. There was out there an odd lent as an empty burrow and always shut
 Look long and earnestly at this house, little one," said the old one to me-" When you see smoke coming out of the roof, the door and the win dows open, that bodes us ill.,"
 I trusted myself to him. as I knew that this was by no means his first opening of the hunting season.
 One morning not long ago, just as it was getting light, I heard someone calling me in swhisper. "Rouget, Rouget'' It was my old friend. His eyes stuck out in a funny way. Come quick. and do just as I do" he said I followed him, half asleep. slipping along among the Jumps of earth, without flying or even jump ing, for all the world like a mouse. We kept going toward the woods. I saw as I went by that there was smoke in the chimney of the little house, that the windows were open and that before the big open door there were some hunters all ready to start out, with dogs leaping all around them. As we passed. one of the hunters yelled. 'Let us do the field this morning and the woods af- ter breakfast"
 Then I understood why my old friend was taking us first to the fast, especially when I thought of all my friends.
 Suddenly, just as we were getting to the edge of the wood, the dogs began to run toward us 'Get your self out of sight, said my friend in faint whisper. Just then, ten steps from us, a frightened quail opened off with cry of fear. I heard a dreadful noise and we were covered with a dust that smelled queer and was white and warm feeling. although the sun was hardly up. l was so afraid that I could not run any more It was a lucky thing that we got into the woods at this time My compan- ion got himself out of sight behind little oak and I sat down beside him and we both stayed there, hidden up. and peeked through the leaves.
 Out in the field there was an aW- full firing. Every time a gun went off I shut up my eyes tight, and felt as if I was dying. Then when I ma1,- aged to open them, I saw the great, looking into the clumps of grass, run ming round and round as if mad. Be- hind them hunters were swearing ana shouting. The guns were shining in the sunlight. Once in little cloud of smoke, thought I saw, although there wasn't any tree around some thing like falling leaves. But my old friend told me that they were not leaves but fea athers and only too true. a Little ways in front of us, a. fine gray partridge fell in the burrow, turning back his bleeding head.
 When the sun got very hot, the f1r- ing stopped suddenly. The hunters came back to the little house, where we heard soon a huge fire cracklins. They talked among themselves, guns on their shoulders, discussing the shots while their dogs Jagged on be- hind, with tongues hanging out They are going to have breakfast" said my comrade. "Let us do the same" We went into a field of buckwheat, which was near the wood, big field. white with the flowers and black with the seeds. and smelling like almond. Some beautiful pheasants with reddish brown plumage were pecking there to. keeping their red crests low for fear they would be seen. My. they were far from being as proud as they generally are! AS they ate. they ask ed us what the news was, and if any of their number had been killed. All the while the breakfast of the hunt ers which had begun quietly became louder and louder. We heard glasses and clinking and corks flying out of the bottles. My old friend said that 1t was time to get back to our hid- ing place.
 It seemed as if the wood was sleep ing. The little pond where the deer 20 to drink was not stirred by the apping of a single tongue There was not rabbits nose visible in the thyme of the rabbit preserve. The only sound was a mysterious shud- lering, as if every leaf, every spear ,f grass sheltered a threatened life. The game in the woods has so many places to hide. burrows. thickets, piles If wood. brush, and then the ditches. hose little wooden ditches, which lold the water such long time after t has rained. I own up that I should ike to have been at the very bottom