8 WITH CARL OF THE HILL 



not be Carl. A really good dog is born, not made; 

 and during Rappe's lifetime, Carl has tried more dogs 

 than he can count, till at length the days brought 

 Talle, son of Rappe. a wonderful yoiing dog, steady, 

 observant, and wise, only just — not Rappe himself. 



For perhaps two hours we walk twenty yards or so 

 apart, keeping chiefly to the paths of the forest 

 creatures which for long distances tend in a given 

 direction following the lie of the land. The sun 

 is behind us, in our faces the breeze. Silence is 

 imperative — one never knows how near an elk may 

 l;c. We have seen already many signs of elk — old 

 slots, broken branches, beds where they have lately 

 lain — but nothing fresh. But now Talle begins to 

 pull on the lead. He is picking something along 

 through the scrub, and I whistle Carl to my side. As 

 soon as we reach soft ground we can see plainly 

 enough the footprints of an elk — of a small one 

 only, and we want no cows nor calves. Tdlle, young 

 and eager, is straining on the lead, but Rappe — 

 after one good examination, nose and eyes — looks 

 up to Carl for orders, for he has sampled that 

 elk to a fraction ; he will go if he is bidden, but 

 clearly does not ask to go. 



Old Rappe, you are right. So, still with the dogs 



