SOBAPSQUA 95 



dozen guns and left as many chopfallen hunters, 

 each excusing himself and blaming the others. 



I have painful recollections of being more than 

 once a member of such an awkward squad, mingled 

 with pleasanter memories of occasions when for- 

 tune favored us; but somehow the misadventures 

 stand forth most prominently. I well remember 

 one dull-skied November day when I tramped to 

 the Point with no companion but my old hound 

 Gabriel, and ranged the woods almost to the end 

 without finding a track till he came to the old 

 orchard, I being a little behind him, when he 

 sounded such a melodious blast of his trumpet as 

 at once raised my waning hopes and set me all 

 alert. In a moment he had a fox afoot and going 

 around the end of the Point from the south side to 

 the north at a lively rate. There was a bare chance 

 of my getting over to that side in time to intercept 

 him, and I tried my best for it, running ventre a 

 ierre beside an old wall that crossed the pasture 

 till I came to the belt of woods above the shore. I 

 had not time to catch breath before the fox was 

 seen among the thick shadows of the trees, in 

 black relief against the light beyond, and I made a 

 snap shot at him. He tumbled all in a heap into a 

 clump of cedar-trunks, but before I could get to 

 him he picked himself up and staggered into a 

 thicket, whither I followed close at his heels mak- 

 ing futile snatches at his brush, a foot or so beyond 



