122 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



'Now jist look a here, there's one track by the lance 

 leaf." 



"Yes." 



" Here's the t'other on the same side, and here's the 

 t'other, and here's the t'other. Wall, that shows he's a 

 walkin', don't it ?" 



" Ye-e-s." 



" Thar he's nibbled off that young tree, haint he ?" 



A small birch sprout, of about a foot in height, was 

 stripped of its leaves and bark. 



" Ye-e-s." 



" Wall, that shows he was feedin' slowly, and warn't 

 the leastwise anxious, and by the way the tracks pint I 

 calkerlate he's off for the meadows." 



" Well, but how do you know it was not a doe ?" 



" Cause he writ it up on that j^ine tree on ahead, 

 where the tracks are thick at the bottom. Now look on 

 the bark about six feet up, and tell me what rubbed that 

 bark off ef it warn't that buck's horns — and you better 

 believe it was a whopper ; no small buck kin scratch up 

 thar." 



I thought a moment, and then the only wonder to me 

 seemed why it needed an explanation at all, it was so 

 clear. 



" Whare has he gone ? Thare's a meadow across here 

 chock full of sweet grass and lily pads, and I reckon he's 

 thar, and slathers more." 



A few minutes' walk, and we came on to the verge of 

 a natural meadow, bounded on every side by the forest, 



