The inexplicable sixth sense—a sort of intuition which we deaf acquire—appears to be even stronger in afflicted animals than in men. Sometimes it leads to an amusing outcome. In a certain New England State a law was passed prohibiting exports of quail, and a well-informed scientist was put in charge of it. He knew all about the habits of quail, but little about the practical side of legal enforcement. He made a tour through the State to consult with his deputies, and in one locality he found a rough old farmer serving as game warden; an independent old fellow, very deaf, most opinionated, with small respect for professional knowledge. His constant companion was a little mongrel dog, also very deaf. A strange silent combination they made, but they carried a State-wide reputation for “spotting quail.” The clash came at the railroad station, where the professor was waiting for his train, completely disgusted with the appearance and general attitude of the warden. The latter came slouching along the platform with the small brown dog at his heels, and the face of the learned man became as a book, in which the countryman could “read strange matters.” The deaf are prompt to act when action seems necessary or desirable. They do not join in useless preliminaries. Quickly and decisively the game warden opened the campaign. “You’re going home to fire me, but before you leave I want to tell you before this crowd that you don’t know as much about this business as my dog Jack does. He’s deaf, too!” There are few situations more damaging to dignity than a public argument with an angry deaf person—especially when the participator with good ears is a polished gentleman and ladies are present. Again, some men might appreciate the compliment of being associated with a large, noble-looking dog. But the professor glanced at Jack and fully realized the size of the insult. Here was just a little brown dog of no particular breed, with one ear upright and the other lying limp, evidence of previous injury in a fight. How was the professor to know that because the outer door of those ears was shut the brain had been forced to greater activity. And here was a shambling backwoodsman telling a Ph.D. that this disreputable creature was his mental superior! The professor was too indignant for words, but the game warden was ready to continue: “I’ll prove it! I’ll prove it right here. There’s a shipment of quail going out of this town right now. Right on this platform are three farmers, an old woman with a basket, two drummers with bags, old man Edwards with a trunk, and that young woman with a fiddle case. Who’s got the quail? Here’s a case where it don’t do us no good to know how many eggs a quail lays or how many potato bugs she has in her gizzard. Who’s got the quail? Can you tell?” “Why,” gasped the indignant professor, “do you suppose I am going to insult this young woman by intimating that she is a quail runner? And these gentlemen? It’s preposterous!”