sleep
himself; and the only reason he waked is because he snored and I
_punched_ him."

She folded up her fancy work, shook out her skirts, and turned to the
ponies.

It was now late in the afternoon. We had disgracefully wasted our time,
and enjoyed doing it. The Captain decided it to be too late to hunt up a
new covey, so we reversed to pick up some of those that had originally
doubled back. We flushed forty or fifty of them at the edge of the road.
They scattered ahead of us in a forty-acre plowed field.

Until twilight, then, we walked leisurely back and forth, which is the
only way to walk in a plowed field, after all. The birds had pitched
down into the old furrows, and whenever a tuft of grass, a piece of
tumbleweed, or a shallow grassy ditch offered a handful of cover, there
the game was to be found. Mrs. Kitty followed at the Captain's elbow,
and Carrie at mine. Carrie made a first-rate dog, marking down the birds
unerringly. The quail flew low and hard, offering in the gathering
twilight and against the neutral-coloured earth marks worthy of good
shooting. At last we turned back to our waiting team. The dusk was
coming over the land, and the "shadow of the earth" was marking its
strange blue arc in the east. As usual the covey was now securely
scattered. Of a thousand or so birds we had bagged forty-odd; and yet of
the remainder we would have had difficulty in flushing another dozen. It
is the mystery of the quail, and one that the sportsman can never
completely comprehend. As we clambered into the Invigorator we could
hear from all directions the birds signalling each other. Near, far, to
right, to left, the call sounded, repeating over and over again a
parting, defiant denial that the victory was ours.

"You _can't_ shoot! You _can't_ shoot! You _can't_ shoot!"

And nearer at hand the contented chirping twitter as the covey found
itself.

CHAPTER VI

PONIES

Next morning the Captain decided that he had various affairs to attend
to, so we put on our riding clothes and went down to the stables.

The Captain had always forty or fifty polo ponies in the course of
education, and he was delighted to have them ridden, once he was
convinced of your seat and hands. They were beautiful ponies, generally
iron gray in colour, very friendly, very eager, and very lively. Riding
them was like flying through the air, for they sailed over rough ground,
irrigation checks, and the like without a break in th