miscalculated by a foot, and thundered away to the safety and
shelter of the pines.

There was another enemy, who ought to have known better,
following the old beech partridge all one early spring when snow
was deep and food scarce. One day, in crossing the partridge's
southern range, I met a small boy,--a keen little fellow, with
the instincts of a fox for hunting. He had always something
interesting afoot,--minks, or muskrats, or a skunk, or a big
owl,--so I hailed him with joy.

"Hello, Johnnie! what you after to-day--bears?"

But he only shook his head--a bit sheepishly, I thought--and
talked of all things except the one that he was thinking about;
and presently he vanished down the old road. One of his jacket
pockets bulged more than the other, and I knew there was a trap
in it.

Late that afternoon I crossed his trail and, having nothing more
interesting to do, followed it. It led straight to the bullbrier
thicket where the old beech partridge roosted. I had searched for
it many times in vain before the fox led me to it; but Johnnie,
in some of his prowlings, had found tracks and a feather or two
under a cedar branch, and knew just what it meant. His trap was
there, in the very spot where, the night before, the old beech
partridge had stood when he jumped for the lowest limb. Corn was
scattered liberally about, and a bluejay that had followed
Johnnie was already fast in the trap, caught at the base of his
bill just under the eyes. He had sprung the trap in pecking at