THE SNOW-WALKERS 45 



a fresh fall of snow, and see at all points where he 

 has crossed the road. Here he has leisurely passed 

 within rifle-range of the house, evidently reconnoi- 

 tring the premises with an eye to the hen-roost. 

 That clear, sharp track, — there is no mistaking it 

 for the clumsy footprint of a little dog. All his 

 wildness and agility are photographed in it. Here 

 he has taken fright, or suddenly recollected an en- 

 gagement, and in long, graceful leaps, barely touch- 

 ing the fence, has gone careering up the hill as fleet 

 as the wind. 



The wild, buoyant creature, how beautiful he is! 

 I had often seen his dead carcass, and at a distance 

 had witnessed the hounds drive him across the upper 

 fields; but the thrill and excitement of meeting him 

 in his wild freedom in the woods were unknown to 

 me till, one cold winter day, drawn thither by the 

 baying of a hound, I stood near the summit of the 

 mountain, waiting a renewal of the sound, that I 

 might determine the course of the dog and choose 

 my position, — stimulated by the ambition of all 

 young Nimrods to bag some notable game. Long 

 I waited, and patiently, till, chilled and benumbed, 

 I was about to turn back, when, hearing a slight 

 noise, I looked up and beheld a most superb fox, 

 loping along with inimitable grace and ease, evi- 

 dently disturbed, but not pursued by the hound, 

 and so absorbed in his private meditations that he 

 failed to see me, though I stood transfixed with 

 amazement and admiration, not ten yards distant. 

 I took his measure at a glance, — a large male, with 



