82 THE IMAGE OF WAR 



however, was deserted this morning. As we gradu- 

 ally ascended through the woodland Dinah got a 

 whifF or two of last night's drag, probably that of 

 a hare, and became less amenable to the leash. How- 

 ever, she had to restrain her eagerness a good bit yet. 

 At the end of an hour's sharp walk, a convenient 

 fallen tree invited repose, so, tying up the bitch, I 

 sat down and filled a pipe. Before it was smoked out 

 Dinah had become very restless, and finally broke out 

 into a whine, by which she meant, " How much of 

 this beautiful morning are we going to waste like 

 this ? " A beautiful morning it was, certainly, for 

 there was not a cloud in the sky ; nor was it cold, 

 even down here in the glen, where the sun had not 

 reached, and probably never did reach. Not much 

 like the middle of November to-day. We continued 

 our way, and where a little mountain torrent — now 

 dry — had made a side valley, the dead leaves, elsewhere 

 white with hoar-frost, showed a black spot. A roe- 

 buck had been turning them over since the frost, as 

 Dinah's waving stern testified. Yery well, especially 

 as it was at this very spot I had meant to leave the 

 track. I commenced the climb of the ridge between 

 the main and side glens — a somewhat arduous one, 

 and rendered no easier by the fact that the drag 

 seemed pretty strong here, making the bitch decidedly 

 troublesome to lead. However, up I went, and passed 

 the covert limit to enter that of the pines. • By this 

 time I was warm enough, in spite of a cool wind from 

 the southward, and was glad to unbutton my coat 

 and to pocket my neck-handkerchief At last the 

 climb was done, and I reached what German sports- 

 men called the weclisel. We have no word for the 

 regular, though often invisible, path four-footed game 



