The Ronan pioneer. [volume] (Ronan, Mont.) 1910-1970, 1914-11-20
|HuntingWith.
Dorothy
There Was Other Game Than
the Partridges.
BY LITTELL M'cLURG.

Dorothy was Il sportswoman from
the tip of her dainty pumps to the tor
of her aristocratic head. Never had
Owen Compton met a girl in whom
so many delightful qualities Were
blended
That dashing creature known as 1.-THE
athletic girl he cordially disliked
holding that young women We're in
tended primarily for cozy corners.
So when introduced to Dorothy he
felt sure he would not like her bit.
| Handsome she undoubtedly was, and
queenly, too, but with her queeniness
Dorothy was righteousness itself. She
| could ride with the skill of q cowboy
the widest pony that ever leaped a
fence. She could shoot like an expert
and row like a university oarsman.
And after galloping gayly over the
fields on one of her papa's most dan
gerous young horses she would comS
into the drawing room and. with sym
pathetic touch, play score of old
time melodies surclarged with senti-
ment.
Before many moons Owen discover
ed that with all her athletic propensi-
ties Dorothy was as tender natured
and as warm hearted as any girl who
breathed the ozone.
The result was inevitable.
Therefore when Dorothy looked up
from the piano. a coquettish light in
her dark eyes, and asked, "Owen. when
are you coming out to shoot cartridges
with me?" Owen replied that next
morning would find him ready with
cartridges and gun.
He appeared by sunup. and Dorothy
was awaiting him with her own favor
lite setter and her own brightly pol
ished little shotgun. In hunting boots.
short skirt and Il brown jacket. whose
large collar fell back over her Shout
ders, disclosing her round, white
throat. she was a veritable vision of
the forest.
GAS I live, but you do look stun
ming" was Owens comment as he
gave her il rapid survey. Another
Diana ready for the hunt, but whether
She laughed merrily.
THE former. of course. sirv' she de-
clared. AT evening with moonlight
setting, you know, is the proper time
for wounding hearts. This morning
in the bright sunshine cartridges are
to be our only considerat ton. Please
remember this!"
agreed" he said, his eyes flashing
back the challenge Lets strike out.
Look. your dog is just crazy to be
off,"
Then down the long slope they went
and out into the fields. The autumn
sun was Il dull, golden disk that
seemed to cast it's color over the leaves
and the ruddy fruit. AS they made
their way through an orchard Owen
stopped and. throwing Il stick up into
the boughs, brought down several fine
apples.
With evident relish Dorothy set her
sharp teeth into one of the largest of
these. The appeal Of the picture was
too much for Owen. and he began TO
quote something about the drowsy
winds that famed "a heart ripe as the
apples grown in orchard lands of long
ago"
She stopped him with disapprov-
ing glance. do you remember what
we started out to dog" she asked.
Eyes. to shoot birds, not to talk sen
timent."
She nodded. and they pushed out
into the open fields again. The setter,
a hundred yards ahead, was already
standing a covey of cartridges. They
hurried up close.
Ready" he asked. raising his gun.
Ready" she answered. you take
those on the left; III look after those
that fly up on the right
Burr-burr-burr, and dozen par
tridges rose obliquely and sailed over
the fields.
Bang. bang. spoke Dorothy's gun.
Bang. bang, echoed his.
Two birds dropped. one in line Of
OWENS fire. the other over to the right. |
"Honors are event. cried Dorothy.
tits hit and a miss for each of u.s."
He sprang forward. and as the dog
brought up the dead birds he dropped
them into the sack he carried. Sudden
" hundred feet in front of him a
partridge that had become separated
from the others ran out Of the grass
and tluttered off toward clump Of
bushes OH the hillside.
He lifted his gun to his shoulder and
pulled both triggers. but the bird con-
tinued in it's fight. Then behind him
flashed Dorothys gun. and the par
fridge dropped like spent rocket.
At the same moment sharp. sting