360 Sporting Sketches 



specimens and added a new bird to the score of the 

 veteran twelve-gauge. 



I pocketed the birds, broke the gun, put in fresh 

 shells, and, on the strength of an easy but clean kill, 

 produced the flask. As Jo took his dose, I noticed 

 his face. Instead of the customary grin, it showed 

 grave and solemn as an owl's. The sparkle of the 

 eye, too, was missing, and when the sight of a drink 

 didn't make Jo's optics gleam, something surely was 

 amiss. 



" You foller dem ? " he tersely queried, as I made 

 a significant motion. I was somewhat astonished. 



" Bad luck kill dem look dur ! " 



Something in his voice startled me, and my eyes 

 flashed northward, whither his long arm pointed. 

 Under great stress a man sometimes thinks of 

 whimsical things. What I thought was " I've 

 killed three pups of the North Pole, and here's the 

 whole frapped Arctic Circle coming south to see 

 about it ! " 



Rolling steadily down, like snowy surf, mountains 

 high, came a squall the like of which I had never 

 seen. One glance was sufficient. The white mass 

 seemed dense enough for good shoeing, and the way 

 in which its deadly advance blotted out the land- 

 scape was absolutely terrifying. Under such a 

 downfall a trail would not show for a minute. 



"Come quick! "said Jo, as he turned, and the 

 gleam in his wild eyes was a solemn warning. 



I have run in a snow-shoe steeplechase over rough 

 country, have staggered home, beaten and cooked to 

 a turn, after one of those desperate efforts which fool- 

 men will make for a pewter mug, a cheer, and some 



