"Firstly," he said, "there was no trail, neither to nor from the spot where the creature had made its lair; secondly, when roused, it took not the alarm, but leaped sportingly ahead, taking sufficient care to be beyond the range of musket, without ever becoming hid from the eye; and lastly its manner of disappearance was as worthy of mention as any other of its movements."
"And in what manner didst thou lose the creature?"
"I had gotten it upon the crest of a hillock, where true eye and steady hand might make sure of a buck of much smaller size, when--didst hear aught that might be accounted wonderful, at a season of the year when the snows are still lying on the earth?"
The auditors regarded one another curiously, each endeavoring to recall some unwonted sound which might sustain a narrative that was fast obtaining the seducing interest of the marvellous.
"Wast sure, Charity, that the howl we heard from the forest was the yell of the beaten hound?" demanded a handmaiden of Ruth, of a blue-eyed companion, who seemed equally well disposed to contribute her share of evidence in support of any exciting legend.
"It might have been other," was the answer "though the hunters do speak of their having beaten the pup for restiveness."
"There was a tumult among the echoes, that sounded like the noises which follow the uproar of a falling tree," said Ruth, thoughtfully. "I remember to have asked if it might not be that some fierce beast had caused a general discharge of the musketry, but my father was of opinion that death had undermined some heavy oak."
"At what hour might this have happened?"
"It was past the turn of the day; for it was at the moment I bethought me of the hunger of those who had toiled since light, in the hills."
"That then was the sound I mean. It came not from falling tree, but was uttered in the air, far above all forests. Had it been heard by one better skilled in the secrets of nature----"