The Republican journal., 1912-05-23

VINO every Vlue ne moved SOUNDED IKE
old iron clinking, with his hunting knife,
cartridge box, powder box, without men,
tioning his high CATERS buckled up to
his knees, which made him seem even
taller. At the other end was little old
man, leaning against a tree, smoking
pipe happily, with his eyes partly closed.
as if he was going to sleep. l was MT
afraid of this one. 1t was that tall fellow.
''You don't know much yet, Rouget,"
said my comrade to me, laughing, and
without any fear, his wings we'll spread
out, he flew almost into the legs of the
dreadful hunter with whiskers. And the
result was that the poor man was so en-
busy admiring himself from head to foot,
that when he got his gun up to his Shout
der we were already out of reach. Oh, if
are alone in a quiet little 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 awkwardness!
We kept on going, and we kept on 60
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. l can see still all the
places where we went; the warren,
purple with heather, full of burrows at
the foot of the yellow tree with this
great curtain of oaks where it seemed to
me that could see death hiding every
where; the little green walk where my
mother had taken her little ones in the
May suns, where we used to skip about,
pecking at the red ants which crawled up
on our feet and where we used to meet
the little stuck-up pheasants, clumsy as
hens, who never wanted to play with US.
l saw it as in dream, my little green
walk, just as hind crossed it, tall on its
long thin legs, with its 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 second, to drink of the spring water
and to splash ourselves 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 deer
came, dragging along on three legs, and
leaving red trail on the moss behind
her. 1t was such a sad sight to see that
hid my head in the leaves, but heard
the wounded one drink in the pool, pant
ing and burning with fever.
Day was going. The shots sounded
farther away, and were not so often.
Then all was quiet 1t was over. Then
we came back quietly toward the plain
to get news of our flock. AS l went
past the little house l saw something
terrible.
At the edge of trench, the hares
with their red hair, the little grey rab-
bits with white tails, lay side by side.
Their small paws were joined together
in death which made them look as 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 a
dead bird? 1t was so alive with its
wings To see them folded and cold it
made me SILVER. A superb big roe SEEM
ed as if sleeping, with her little red
tongue hanging out of her mouth as it
to lap still.
And the hunters were there, bent over
their slaughter, counting and drawing
toWdruS lHelT gdfIeDdgS the ploouy paws,
the torn wings without respect for all
those bleeding wounds. The dogs tied
up along the road, kept their mouths 60
ing yet, as if 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
earth and the pathways wet with the
evening dew, how | hated them, men
and dogs, all of them! Neither my com
rade nor myself had the courage to give
our farewell as we usually did, to the
day which was ending.
On our way we met unfortunate little
animals, knocked down by chance shots
and left there for the ants; some field
mice with their noses full of dirt; some
woodpeckers, some swallows struck in
flight, fiat on their backs, stretching
their little stiff claws towards the night,
which was coming down quickly as it al
ways 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.