— Well let's go then, C.B., get your boots.

Charlie pushed back his chair and brought his plate and cup up to the counter. The bowls were then stacked by the sink, and the potatoes were left to cool. He made his way to the side door, with his dad, and out through the garage.

So it was up the hill from here, then hopping up over the ditch stream, running now with all the rain. They walked through a narrow opening in the trees, about half a mile up the road, and climbed the first steps in, grabbing roots for traction up the granite face, and finally through to the thin black ground that followed.

— Let's take the north trail up and out this time.

Charlie led his dad this way, up the hill and back down again. It was a wet fall, and the valleys were still muddy. His dad walked alongside, using an old aluminum ski pole, with half a basket, as a walking stick.

— Now, C.B., have you tried running after her again? Maybe you just need to chase her.

— Well, I did try that to be sure, but I think we're past that now.

Charlie saw that the path opened up from here into a small clearing, back behind a couple of houses, stretching out before eventually following the highway again.

— Now, look over there, C.B., do you see the partridge?

And then — thump! thump! — a partridge cleared the bushes beside them and disappeared.

Charlie's heart started. He stood still and watched the partridge flap and vanish, trying to trace where it landed.

— What a shame, what a shame. It's too bad I didn't bring a gun.

— Well, I'm just happy to see one, Dad. It's been a while for me.

They turned back from here and found the next opening in the trees. Then back across the ditch stream and out to the road, where you could hear the hum of the highway.

— She was right there! We should've brought the gun.

Charlie looked over to his dad and nodded, though he didn't really agree.

His dad's ski pole clacked on the hardtop as they gained speed down the hill. Then around the corner, down to the lake, and back home again.