172 A WEEK ON WALDEN'S BIDGE. 



the mountain Lad said that they were not 

 common, but that I " wanted to look out 

 sharp for them in the woods.") My com- 

 panion had never seen one, he answered, but 

 his wife had once killed one in their door- 

 yard. Then, by way of cooling off, after 

 the fervor of the conflict, he told me about 

 a gentleman and his little boy, who, having 

 come to sj^end a vacation on the Ridge, 

 started out in the morning for a stroll. 

 They were quicldy back again, and the boy, 

 quite out of breath, came running into the 

 garden. 



" Oh, Mr. M.," he cried, " we saw a rat- 

 tlesnake, and papa fired off his pistol ! " 



" A rattlesnake ! Where is it ? What 

 did it look like?" 



" Why, we did n't see it, but we heard it." 

 " What was the noise like ? " asked Mr. 

 M., and he took a pencil from his pocket 

 and began tapping on a log. 



" That 's it ! " said the boy, " that 's it ! " 

 They had heard a woodpecker drilling for 

 grubs, — or drumming for love, — where- 

 upon the man had fired his pistol, and for 

 them there was no more walking in the 

 woods. 



