eye detects the coveys of quail, which way they are running; his ruse
generally succeeds wonderfully. He is no more like a cow, than that
respectable animal is like a cucumber; but he paws, and tosses, and
moves about, pretends to eat, to nibble here, and switch his tail
there, and so manoeuvres as to keep the running quail away from the
unprotected edges of the field. When they get to the verge protected
by the net, they begin to take alarm; they are probably not very
certain about the peculiar looking 'old cow' behind them, and running
along the net, they see the decoy quails evidently feeding in great
security and freedom. The V shaped mouth of the large basket cage
looks invitingly open. The puzzling nets are barring the way, and the
'old cow' is gradually closing up behind. As the hunter moves along, I
should have told you, he rubs two pieces of dry hard sticks gently up
and down his thigh with one hand, producing a peculiar crepitation, a
crackling sound, not sufficient to startle the birds into flight, but
alarming them enough to make them get out of the way of the 'old cow.'
One bolder than the others, possibly the most timid of the covey,
irritated by the queer crackling sound, now enters the basket, the
others follow like a flock of sheep; and once in, the puzzling shape
of the entrance prevents their exit. Not unfrequently the hunter bags
twenty or even thirty brace of quail in one field, by this ridiculous
looking but ingenious method.

The small quail net is also sometimes used for the capture of hares.
The natives stretch the net in the jungle, much as they do the large
nets for deer described in a former chapter; forming a line, they then
beat up the hares, of which there are no stint. My friend Pat once
made a novel haul. His _lobarkhanna_ or blacksmith's shop was close to
a patch of jungle, and Pat often noticed numbers of quail running
through the loose chinks and crevices of the walls, in the morning