“Oh, I’m so glad you didn’t shoot them!” said Alta. “Aren’t they charming little things? I never saw one before.”
“Some people say that they will lie down if one chases them,” said Fred. “Perhaps they will, if one chases them long enough, but these are too old to give up quickly. I wish I could have caught one for you. I didn’t mean to harm them. Just see them following the white beacons over that hill.”
“Oh, isn’t it fun!” exclaimed Alta, as they struck out again up the hills toward the old mountaineer’s cabin.
“I’m just a little puzzled to know how to bring things about,” said Fred.
“What things?”
“Why, your meeting with the old trapper. Say, Alta, I’ll tell you.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s skirmish up this creek for chickens. We may scare up some grouse. If Uncle Dave hears us shooting, he may come out and meet us.”
“Very well,” responded the girl.
They had not gone far till there was a rustling in the brush, and a bevy of grouse scurried through the open space into the grove before them.