They were not ruffed grouse, but a kindred
kind, new to Rolf. As he gazed at the perchers, he saw Quonab
rise gently, go to nearest willow and cut a long slender rod at
least two feet long; on the top of this he made a short noose of
cord. Then he went cautiously under the watching grouse, the
spruce partridges, and reaching up slipped the noose over the
neck of the first one; a sharp jerk then tightened noose, and
brought the grouse tumbling out of the tree while its companions
merely clucked their puzzlement, made no effort to escape.
A short, sharp blow put the captive out of pain. The rod was
reached again and a second, the lowest always, was jerked down,
and the trick repeated till three grouse were secured. Then only
did it dawn on the others that they were in a most perilous
neighbourhood, so they took flight.
Rolf sat up in amazement. Quonab dropped the three birds by the
fire and set about preparing breakfast.
"These are fool hens," he explained. "You can mostly get them
this way; sure, if you have a dog to help, but ruffed grouse is
no such fool."
Rolf dressed the birds and as usual threw the entrails Skookum.
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