the two leaders cleared a fallen log, the third deer had fallen
heavily; and all three trails showed blood stains where the crust
had cut into their legs.

I waited there on the trail to see what was following--to give
right of way to any hunter, but with a good stout stick handy,
for dealing with dogs, which sometimes ran wild in the woods and
harried the deer. For a long quarter-hour the woods were all
still; then the jays, which had come whistling up on the trail,
flew back screaming and scolding, and a huge yellow mongrel,
showing hound's blood in his ears and nose, came slipping,
limping, whining over the crust. I waited behind a tree till he
was up with me, when I jumped out and caught him a resounding
thump on the ribs. As he ran yelping away I fired my rifle over
his head, and sent the good club with a vengeance to knock his
heels from under him. A fresh outburst of howls inspired me with
hope. Perhaps he would remember now to let deer alone for the
winter.

Above the noise of canine lamentation I caught the faint click of
snowshoes, and hid again to catch the cur's owner at his
contemptible work. But the sound stopped far back on the trail at
the sudden uproar.

Through the trees I caught glimpses of a fur cap and a long gun
and the hawk face of Old Wally, peeking, listening, creeping on
the trail, and stepping gingerly at last down the valley, ashamed
or afraid of being caught at his unlawful hunting. "An ill wind,
but it blows me good," I thought, as I took up the trail of the
deer, half ashamed myself to take advantage of them when tired by