THE POCKET HUNTER 



venly blueness of the sea from which 

 they rose. The cloud drift scattered and 

 broke billowing in the canons. The leader 

 stamped lightly on the litter to put the 

 flock in motion, suddenly they took the 

 drifts in those long light leaps, that are 

 nearest to flight, down and away on the 

 slopes of Waban. Think of that to hap- 

 pen to a Pocket Hunter! But though he 

 had fallen on many a wished-for hap, he 

 was curiously inapt at getting the truth 

 about beasts in general. He believed in 

 the venom of toads, and charms for snake 

 bites, and — for this I could never forgive 

 him — had all the miner's prejudices against 

 my friend the coyote. Thief, sneak, and 

 son of a thief, were the friendliest words 

 he had for this little gray dog of the wil- 

 derness. 



Of course with so much seeking he came 

 77 



