The Birmingham age-herald., 1912-01-07

was too scared myself to profit from his l fright.
 My old friend however was calm all the time. He listened to every bayins
 of the dogs and to every firing, and when they came too near. signalled to me and we went. on a little further. out of the scent of the dogs and well hidden by the foliage.
 A Narrow Escape | One time, though, I thought that we
 were gone for sure. The way where we had to go was watched at each end by hunter in ambush At one end was a ' tall, jolly fellow, with black whiskers, who every time he moved sounded like | old iron elinking, with his hunting knife, cartridge box, powder boy, without men | tioning his high gaiters buckled up to his l knees, which made him seem even taller. At the other end was a little sold man, leaning against tree, smoking pipe happily, with his eyes partly closed. as | if he was going to sleep I wasn't afraid of this one. It was that tall fellow. You don't know much yet, Rouget y said my comrade to me, laughing, and without any fear bis wings well spread out. he flew almost into the legs of the dreadful hunter with the whiskers. And the result was that the poor man was
 
 and so busy admiring himself from head to foot, that when he got his gun up to his shoulder we were already out of reach. Oh, if hunters only knew when they think they are alone in a quiet lit tie spot In the woods, how many keen little eyes are watching them from the underbrush, how many pointed bills are trying not to laugh at their awkward ness!
 We kept on going, and we kept on go@ ing, all the time. Knowing nothing bet ter to do than to follow my old friend, my wings went with his and stopped when his did, I can see still all the places where we went; the warren, pur- pie with heather, full of burrows at the foot of the yellow tree with this great curtain of oaks where 1t seemed to me that could sec death hiding everywhere; the little green walk where my mother had taken her little ones in the May suns. where we used to skip about, peck ing at the red ~ants which crawled up on our feet and where we used to meet the little stlck-up pheasants, clumsy as hens, who never wanted to play with us.
 saw 1t as in a dream, my little green walk, just as a hind crossed it, tall on its long thin legs with it's big eyes all open and ready to leap. Then the pool where we came in parties of fifteen to thirty all in one flight, flying up from the plain in a second, to drink of the spring water and to splash our selves with the little drops which rolled off our shiny feathers.
 There were in the midst of this pool some bushes, very thick and here we took refuge. The dogs would have an extraordinary nose to find us here. We had scarcely settled there before a deer came, dragging along on three legs and leaving red trail on the moss behind las Il, T -=r.I,4 4, ,,f I hid my head in the leaves, but I heard the wounded one drink in the pool, panting and burning with fever. Day was going The shots sounded farther away, and were not so often Then all was quiet. It was over. Then we came back quietly toward the plain to get the news of our flock As I went past the little house I saw something terrible.
 The Dogs Game At the edge of the, trench. the hares with their red hair the little grey rab- bit with the white tails, lay side by side. Their small paws were joined together in death which made them look if they were asking for mercy. Their closed eyes seemed to weep. Then the red cartridges. and the grey cartridges, which had half circles like my old friend, and some young birds of this year. who had still, like me, some down in their feathers.
 Do you know anything sadder than q dead bird? Ii was so alive with it's wings, TO see them folded aad cold fl made me shiver. A superb big roe seemed as if sleeping. with her little red tongue hanging out of her mouth as if to lap still
 And the hunters were there, bent over their slaughter counting and drawing towards their gamebags the bloody paws, the torn wings without respect for all those bleeding wounds. The dogs, tied up along the road kept their mouths going yet, as is ready to dart off again into the underbrush
 Oh, when the sun was setting and they had all gone. tired out, sending their lengthening shadows over the clods of evening dew. how I hated them. men ! rade nor myself had the courage to give l our farewell as we usually did, 10 the | day which was ending.
 1 On our way we met unfortunate lit tie animals, knicked down by chance shots and left there for the ants; some 1 field mice with their noses ful lof dirt
 some woodpeckers, some swallows struck | in flight, flat on their backs. stretching l their little stiff claws towards the night, which was coming down quickly as it l always does in the fall, clear. cold and damp. But the most heart breaking of | all was to hear in the edge of the wood, near the field and over in the willows by | the river, the anxious calls, sad and scat | tered to which there was no reply.