68 THE SNOW-WALKERS. 



me, though I stood transfixed with amazement and 

 admiration, not ten yards distant. I took his meas- 

 ure at a glance, a large male, with dark legs, and 

 massive tail tipped with white, a most magnifi- 

 cent creature ; but so astonished and fascinated was 

 I by this sudden appearance and matchless beauty, 

 that not till I had caught the last glimpse of him, 

 as he disappeared over a knoll, did I awake to my 

 duty as a sportsman, and realize what an opportunity 

 to distinguish myself I had unconsciously let slip. I 

 clutched my gun, half angrily, as if it was to blame, 

 and went home out of humor with myself and all fox- 

 kind. But I have since thought better of the expe- 

 rience, and concluded that I bagged the game after 

 all, the best part of it, and fleeced Reynard of some- 

 thing more valuable than his fur, without his knowl- 

 edge. 



This is thoroughly a winter sound, this voice of 

 the hound upon the mountain, and one that is 

 music to many ears. The long trumpet-like bay, 

 heard for a mile or more, now faintly back to the 

 deep recesses of the mountain, now distinct, but 

 still faint, as the hound comes over some prominent 

 point, and the wind favors, anon entirely lost in 

 the gully, then breaking out again much nearer, 

 and growing more and more pronounced as the dog 

 approaches, till, when he comes around the brow of 

 the mountain, directly above you, the barking is loud 

 and sharp. On he goes along the northern spur, his 

 voice rising and sinking as the wind and lay of the 

 ground modify it, till lost to hearing. 



