135 THE HUNTER'S ARCADIA. 



The poor beast knew me when I approached him, 

 and testified his pleasure at my presence as dogs 

 do. I am not very soft-hearted, but I almost shed 

 tears to see the poor thing in such a strait. After 

 some coaxing I got him on his legs, and, by 

 exercising a deal of patience, I succeeded in making 

 him try and exert himself; and so, between rests 

 and short walks, we at length reached the camping 

 ground. The impudence of these corbivan (I had 

 better call them ravens, for, save the white collar 

 round their necks, there is little difference between 

 the two) was most trying. Doubtless they thought 

 that I was taking their legitimate prey from them, 

 and, in return, tried to intimidate me by making 

 swoops within a foot or two of my own or horse's 

 head, causing the latter to become quite nervous ; 

 or lighting in the track, and cawing within a few 

 yards of my advance, as if premeditating an assault 

 on my shins. At length my patience Was exhausted, 

 and I drew my revolver and knocked over the 

 ringleader, missing his rival with a second shot. 

 Poor bird I His companions attacked him as soon 

 as I had passed, and those who, a moment before, 

 had been admiring his pluck, doubtless made a 



