When he heard that, Spot would leave anything he happened to be doing, or give up anything he had intended to do. Perhaps he had expected to dig up and gnaw a choice bone that he had buried somewhere. It might be that he had been planning to chase the cat, or tease Turkey Proudfoot in order to hear him gobble. There wasn't one of those pleasures that Spot wouldn't gladly forgo for the sake of going hunting with Johnnie Green.
When Johnnie Green's father first gave him a shotgun Spot went almost frantic with delight. And they lost no time in starting for the woods. Johnnie Green trudged up the lane with the gun on his shoulder, while Spot ran on ahead of him, returning now and then as if to urge Johnnie to hurry.
They hadn't been long in the woods when Spot suddenly stood still and pointed ahead of him with his nose.
Try as he would, Johnnie couldn't see what Spot was pointing at. So he took a few steps forward until he came abreast of the old dog. Then all at once there was a rumbling whir that sounded to Johnnie Green almost as loud as thunder. A brownish streak flashed from the ground just ahead of him.
He knew that it was a grouse rising. And he fired.
Johnnie Green missed the bird. It had given him such a start that he was still shaking long afterward. He was disappointed, but not less downcast than old Spot.
"Never mind, old boy!" Johnnie said. "We'll have better luck next time!"
But they didn't. Twice more that same thing happened. And after the third miss old [Sport] turned tail and ran away.
"I don't see what's the matter with that boy," he muttered. "I've pointed three birds for him. And he has let every one of them get away.... There's no fun in that kind of shooting."
After that Johnnie couldn't get Spot to go into the woods with him. Whenever Johnnie appeared in the yard with his gun, Spot promptly vanished.