longdrawn whang of Wally's old gun across a little valley.
Presently the brush began to crackle, and a small doe came
jumping among the trees straight towards me. Within thirty feet
she saw me, caught herself at the top of her jump, came straight
down, and stood an instant as if turned to stone, with a spruce
branch bending over to hide her from my eyes. Then, when I moved
not, having no desire to kill a doe but only to watch the
beautiful creature, she turned, glided a few steps, and went
bounding away along the ridge.

Old Wally came in a little while, not following the trail,--he
had no skill nor patience for that,--but with a woodsman's
instinct following up the general direction of his game. Not far
from where the doe had first appeared he stopped, looked all
around keenly, then rested his hands on the end of his long gun
barrel, and put his chin on his hands.

"Drat it all! Never tetched 'im again. That paowder o' mine
hain't wuth a cent. You wait till snow blows,"--addressing the
silent woods at large,--"then I'll get me some paowder as is
paowder, and foller the critter, and I'll show ye"--

Old Wally said never a word, but all this was in his face and
attitude as he leaned moodily on his long gun. And I watched him,
chuckling, from my hiding among the rocks, till with curious
instinct he vanished down the ridge behind the very thicket where
I had seen the doe flash out of sight a moment before.

When I saw him again he was deep in less creditable business. It
was a perfect autumn day,--the air full of light and color, the