THE STILL HUNT. 119 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE STILL HUNT. 



L'Aurore paraissait a peine, 

 Quand dans la brume a 1'horizon 

 Je 1'ai vu rcntrant de la plaine 

 Tout charge* de sa venaison. 

 Bedressant sa large empaumure 

 H s'est arr6te par trois fois 

 Puis il a longe* la bordure 

 Ecoutant 1'eau tomber sous bois. 



As the first light struggled through the clouds and 

 the tassels of the pines overhead, Mike and I alone, with 

 our breakfasts in our hands, were winding our way 

 through the forest. 



We trudged on as best we might over the rolling 

 knolls of sand, laced by the long, tough roots of the 

 palmetto, across hollows choked with grass and vines, 

 and down and up the quaggy sloughs that the waters had 

 made while seeking their level in the Ouithlacouchee. 

 The tough little ponies scampered along on the level 

 land, and where it was muddy Mike would slide to his 

 feet and cheer them on with whoop and hulloa, until 

 they ran up the banks as fast as they jumped, down. The 

 rain had ceased, yet it was not clear, and the drops hung 



