218 



The scent runs straight with now and 

 again a gap as though broken by a leap. 

 Now the dogs head for the sink-hole, run- 

 ning fast almost as hard as they can lay 

 legs to earth. They bark furiously a gut- 

 tural, angry note, different far to the baying 

 of Master Possum. Ah ! they have stopped 

 short there, beside that thick, thorny clump 

 overhanging the earthy cavern. See them 

 leaping, howling, with bristles upright, with 

 gnashing fangs. Hist! Hear the spitting 

 growls from the thicket. They must come 

 from beast of prey, not beast of game. 

 Daddy listens, his head to one side, mutters 

 " Varmint," then steps back to plan the at- 

 tack. A minute later he has lighted his 

 torch, and with two men at his back, armed 

 each with a stout pole, comes up to the 

 angry dogs. He tosses the blazing brand 

 far into the thicket, springs aside barely 

 in time to escape something fiery-eyed, 

 furious, strong of claw that leaped his- 

 sing, yowling, at his throat lies, savagely 

 defiant, spite the blows rained over it, the 

 dogs' angry rushes. 



Daddy speaks to them in sorrow, in an- 

 ger. " Git erway, you fool dawgs ! Whut 

 done come ober you, chasin' cat dat erway ? 

 Right smart ole wild-cat he is but shucks ! 



