568 The Bloodhounds. [December, 



Without appearing to notice tlie strange conduct of their leader, 

 the others crossed in a string, and, striking the warm trail, came 

 yelping up the pass. It was a grassy slope, such as is often seen 

 between two tables of a cliff, and as the dogs strained upward, we 

 could see their white fangs and the red blood that had baited them, 

 clotted along their jaws. 



Another crack from Lincoln's rifle, and the foremost hound tum- 

 bled down the gorge. 



' Two rubbed out,' cried the hunter, and at the same moment I 

 saw him fling his rifle to the ground. 



The hounds kept trail no longer. Their quarry was before them 

 — their howling ended, and they sprang upon us with the silence of 

 the assassin. The next moment we were mingled together — dogs 

 and men — in the fearful struggle of life and death. I know not 

 how long their strange encounter lasted. I felt myself grappling 

 with the tawny monsters, and hurling them over the cliff. They 

 sprang at my throat, and I threw out my arms, ramming them fear- 

 lessly between their shining rows of teeth. Then I was free again, 

 and, seizing a leg or a tail, or the loose flaps of the neck, I dragged 

 the savage brute towards the brink, and summoning all my energies, 

 dashed him against the bluff that he might tumble over. 



Once I lost my balance, and nearly staggered over the precipice. 

 At length, panting, bleeding and exhausted I fell to the earth. I 

 could struggle no longer — I looked around for my comrades. Clay- 

 ley and Raoul had sunk upon the grass, and lay torn and bleeding. 

 Lincoln and Clane, holding a hound, were balancing over the 

 bluff. 



' Now, muster,' cried the hunter, ' give him a good hirst, and see 

 if we can pitch him clar, on tother side — he-woo-hoo,' and with 

 this ejaculation, the kicking animal was launched into the air. 



I could not resist looking after. The yellow body bounded from 

 the face of the opposite cliff, and fell with a heavy plash upon the 

 water below. 



Thank God. He was the last of the Dack." 



Ancient Agriculturists. — The first three men in the world were, 

 a gardener, a plowman, and a grazier; and if any man object that the 

 second of these proved a murderer, he will please remember, that as 

 soon as he was so, he quit our profession and began to build a town ! 



