"Hold up, good dogs!" cried Harry, and as he spoke away went Shot and
Chase--the red dog, some three yards ahead, jumped on the wall, and, in
the act of bounding over it, saw Grouse at point beyond. Rigid as stone
he stood upon that tottering ridge, one hind foot drawn up in the act of
pointing, for both the fore were occupied in clinging to some trivial
inequalities of the rough coping, his feathery flag erect, his black eye
fixed, and his lip slavering; for so hot was the scent that it reached
his exquisitely fashioned organs, though Grouse was many feet advanced
between him and the game. Shot backed at the wall-foot, seeing the red
dog only, and utterly unconscious that the pointer had made the game
beyond.
"By Jove! but that is beautiful!" exclaimed the Commodore. "That is a
perfect picture!--the very perfection of steadiness and breaking."
They crossed the wall, and poor Shot, in the rear, saw them no more; his
instinct strongly, aye! naturally, tempted him to break in, but second
nature, in the shape of discipline, prevailed; and, though he trembled
with excitement, he moved not an inch. Grouse was as firm as iron, his
nose within six inches of a bunch of wintergreen, pointed directly
downward, and his head cocked a little on one side--they stepped up to
him, and still on the wall-top, Chase held to his uneasy attitude.
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