Meanwhile, the hunt continues: my rifle speaks, that of Oscar and Palmiro, my two brothers and with a little surprise I see Sirius struggling with a somewhat difficult retrieve but which is concluded with a smile of mine. I notice that he has not yet fully adapted: I decide to give him some peace of mind and leave the hunting camp.
I follow a downhill path and reach the bend in the river that has been with us all morning. I take this opportunity to smoke a cigarette. Here I will not disturb anyone: my puppy is curious and much more serene. We exchange two words: it is I who speak, but it seems that he answers me with his eyes. I still enjoy the landscape a little bit mottled here and there with red flowers, I put out my cigarette, pick up my butt and get back on my way.
"Sirius" I call, but nothing. Then I see it, not far from our quiet corner. It stands motionless behind a large rhododendron bush and aims its first woodcock. I smile and wait: the journey really takes a good turn.