A CRY OF WOLF. 315 



abouts; and as to them deer, they're fit to run clear 

 over me every time I rides out. Most afeared my hoss '11 

 come to grief, they're always so nigh a coming bounce 

 agin un. Yas, sir!" " Thanks," I replied; "your 

 news, sir, is certainly cheering; but if I find one deer I 

 shall be content, but that I very much doubt." Thus 

 saying, I passed .on, and shortly after met another speci 

 men of the free citizens in the shape of the tallest, rag- 

 gedest, ruggedest, hairiest man I ever saw, but who 

 spoke the truth, and told me it was next to impossible in 

 those parts to find a turkey or a deer. He, however, 

 indicated the line of creeks where I should be most 

 likely to meet with success. We then came to an extent 

 of prairies, through which wound several lines of narrow 

 and prettily- wooded creeks, when, ordering Mr Canterall 

 to the opposite side from me, we took the one that 

 seemed to promise the best covert. Old Druid drew the 

 covert very well and for many miles without the smallest 

 touch of a deer, when all of a- sudden bang went Mr 

 Canterall's gun, though that respectable individual back 

 ed it not in any way with his voice, so I called to him 

 to know what he shot at, and he replied, " A wolf here 

 in the long grass I think I must have hit him." " Jump 

 off the pony, George," I cried, " get to the spot and 

 holloa on Druid and Ear." Old Druid was close to me, 

 staring in the direction of the report of the gun, and 

 listening to know if his services were required, and when 

 George had attained the spot indicated by Mr Canterall, 

 and given a holloa, with a yell of anxiety the hound 

 plunged down the steep bank, and in an instant I heard 

 George giving him the usual gentle encouragement to 

 pick up a line of scent. " Well, can't you make it 

 out?" I said, after a long silence. "No, sir," replied 



