232. K——g sprung a splendid cock-pheasant, which, although a long way off, he shot at and dropped. Judging from the manner in which it fell that it was a runner, and well knowing the racing propensities of the old cocks, he hastened to the spot where it tumbled, and, giving his gun to the marker, prepared for a sharp burst, though he little expected the extraordinary chase that was to follow. He found, as he had anticipated, some breast feathers, but no bird. After fruitlessly trying in every direction, for nearly a quarter of an hour, to put “Dash” on the scent, K——g’s eyes rested on one of the grips just spoken of: it ran close to where the bird had fallen, and the thought struck him that possibly the cunning creature might have taken refuge in it, and thus have thrown out the spaniel. K——g got into it, and though finding fully six inches of water, he persevered in following it. It brought him to a high wood about one hundred yards off, and towards which the pheasant had been flying when shot at, but “Dash” could not obtain the least scent of the bird. As a last resource, K——g then returned to the spot where he had left the marker with his gun, being determined to try the grip in the opposite direction, notwithstanding its leading exactly contrary to the point for which the bird had been making. He did so, and by calling energetically to “Dash,” he endeavoured to make the dog believe that at length the bird was in view. The plan succeeded. “Dash,” who had become slack from disappointment, hunted with renewed animation, and, after pursuing the grip for some time, took the scent full cry across the springs until he came to an old waggon-road, along which he went at speed. Feeling assured that all was now right, K——g gladly moderated his pace, for he was much out of breath. When at length he overtook “Dash,” instead of seeing him in possession of the bird, he only found him completely at fault, trying up and down the well-indented wheel-ruts. On the other side of the road there was another grip. Into it K——g jumped, followed the plan he had before adopted, and with like success; for on running up the grip for about sixty yards, the spaniel again hit off the scent, and after taking it away at a right angle (so far that K——g could only now and then catch a faint tingle of the bell), brought it back to the same grip, but some 200 yards higher, where he suddenly “threw up.” For the fourth time in went K——g. “Dash” now seemed thoroughly to understand matters, and kept trying both sides of the grip for the scent. At length he found it, and went full cry across a yearling fall, which was everywhere very bare, except here and there an occasional patch of high strong grass. At one of these K——g found him again at fault. The dog seemed quite done; but still it was evident, from his excited manner, that he thought the pheasant was not far distant. After a time he began scratching at the long grass. K——g went up, and, on putting the stalks aside, fancied he perceived the end of some tail feathers. He thrust in his arm, and ultimately succeeded in dragging forth the well-hunted bird, quite alive, out of the deep wheel-track in which it had buried itself. The coarse grass had grown so closely over the rut, that the bird had been able to creep in for three or four yards.

233. A more miserable appearance than the poor creature presented, cannot easily be conceived. Its feathers were so completely sopped, and stuck so close to its body, that it looked a mere skeleton; and yet it was a noble bird, measuring three feet and an inch from the tip of its bill to the extremity of its tail, and weighed 3 lbs. 6 oz.

234. As “Dash” plays so conspicuous a part in the foregoing history, it appears right that a few words should be given to describe him. He is a low, strong-limbed, broad-backed nearly thorough-bred Sussex spaniel, with an extremely intelligent-looking head, but a sadly mean stern. His colour is black. K——g generally hunts him with a bell, especially where the underwood is thick. If he is sharply called to when he is on game he will slacken his pace, look round for his master, and not “road” keenly until the gun approaches him; he will then rush in with a bark to flush, though at other times hunting mute. The intelligent animal seems, however, perfectly to know when the cover is too high or strong for K——g to follow, for he then invariably runs full cry from first touching on a scent. He never deceives the sportsman, for he never gives one of his eloquent looks unless he is certain of being on game; and his nose is so good, and he hunts so true, that he invariably “pushes” his pheasant, however much it may turn or double.

235. He is also undeniable at “seeking dead,” but unluckily was not taught as a youngster to fetch. Much time is, therefore, often lost in finding him after he has been sent for a winged bird; but when he is at length discovered it is sure to be with him.

SAGACITY OF A PHEASANT.

236. I was told of a farmer in Kent—one of her fine yeomen, of whom England has such cause to feel proud, (pity that in some other counties the class is not as distinctly preserved!)—who was shooting with an old short-legged, strong-loined, Sussex spaniel. The dog, after “roading” a pheasant along many a tortuous path, led the farmer to the edge of a shallow brook, up the middle of which, far away to his right, he was lucky enough to see the animal running, obviously with the design of throwing out the dog. A light pair of heels soon brought the sportsman within shot, and enabled him to bag the heaviest and richest feathered bird he had ever seen. The sharp long spurs[37] showed it to be at least five years of age, and its sagacity would probably have borne it triumphantly through another campaign or two, had not the farmer’s quick eye detected its adroit manœuvre,—one that forcibly calls to mind Cooper’s descriptions of the stratagems employed by the North American Indians to baffle pursuit by leaving no indication of their trail.

AGE IN DOGS ADVANTAGEOUS.

237. Must there not be experience on the part of dogs to contend successfully with such wiliness as this? So much was the last Duke of Gordon convinced of its necessity,—and he is well known to have been a capital sportsman, and to have paid great attention to his fine breed of black setters,—that he would never allow one of them to accompany him to the moors that had not been shot over five or six seasons—and “small blame” to his Grace “for that same,” as he had a choice from all ages. But it must be acknowledged, that however excellent[38] in many respects,—and when in the hands of the breaker their indomitable energies would cause the bunch of heather, fastened to the end of their checkcords, to dance merrily over the mountains from morning until night-fall,—most of them were a wild set in their youth, and required constant work to keep them in order. Every experienced sportsman in the Highlands is aware that young dogs will romp (for it cannot be termed hunting), with their noses here, there, and everywhere, obtaining but few points over ground on which knowing old dogs will immediately afterwards keep the gun-barrels at an exhilarating temperature.

238. When you hunt a brace of dogs, to speak theoretically, they should traverse a field in opposite directions, but along parallel lines, and the distance between the lines should be regulated by you according as it is a good or a bad scenting day, and according to the excellence of the dogs’ noses. Mathematical accuracy is, of course, never to be attained, but the closer you approach to it the better.