In the other hand he carried his rifle, for some days disused—at his feet lay Longears and Wolf, in vain pleading with down-cast eyes for permission to accompany him.
"What a lovely morning!" said Verty, "and look at Cloud, ma mere!—he seems to know it's fall. Then there's Wolf, who can't understand what I told him about Mr. Rushton's not liking so many dogs—see how sorry he is."
"The gun makes him so," said the old woman; "he thinks my boy is going a hunting."
"Maybe I shall—who knows?" Verty said. "If I see a deer upon my way, good-bye to the law work!"
And bounding lightly into the saddle—a movement which caused the pigeon to open and flutter its wings—Verty smiled on the old woman, placed his hand on his breast, and touched Cloud with his heel.
Cloud shook his head, and set forward cheerfully, Longears galloping by his master's side.
Verty drank in the Autumn loveliness with that delight which he always experienced in the fresh pure hills, with the mountain winds around him. The trees seemed to be growing more and more gorgeous in their coloring, and the cries of wild birds were far more jubilant than ever. As he went on along the narrow bridle path, under the magnificent boughs, his countenance was brighter and more joyous, and he broke once or twice into a song.
Suddenly, while he was humming thus in a low tune, to himself, a still "croak!" attracted his attention, and he stopped abruptly.
"Ah!" he murmured, "that's a good big gobbler, and I'll see about him!"
And Verty cautiously dismounted, and with one foot raised, listened for a repetition of the sound.