94 BEYOND THE PASTURE BARS 



Stream and fence and tree have puzzled the 

 dogs. But they still hold on and finally pick up 

 the scent beyond the gum, only to run instantly 

 into a greater blank in the trail. The coon has 

 taken to another tree ; up and out on the limbs of 

 this to still another, and on, like a squirrel, from 

 tree to tree for perhaps a hundred yards, un- 

 til he comes to his own high hollow. 



It was such a broken trail that I thought my 

 dog must be following at Lupton's Pond. She 

 could get no farther than the top of the slope. 

 Over the fence, under the fence, and out far and 

 wide she would go, but never a sniff of the lost 

 scent. 



Then came a light snow, and on the white page 

 of the hillside in his own handwriting was the 

 story of a large 'possum, who had been along the 

 stream at the head of the pond, had gone up 

 the hill to a fallen pine, out along this pine by way 

 of the thick top to the fence-post, and on along the 

 top rails. 



The writing was plain in the sticky snow, and 

 so was the mystery of the broken trail. I hurried 

 along the fence and saw ahead that a sagging post 

 leaned in against one of the large chestnut-oaks. 

 I knew that my 'possum was in that tree. 



