Little Warhorse 
thirty feet of the crouching Rabbit. As soon 
as they were well gone, Jack turned, and with- 
out even a “ Thank you, Pussy,” he fled to the 
open and away on the hard-beaten road. 
The Cat had been rescued by the lady of 
the house; the Dog was once more sprawling 
on the boards when the man on Jack’s trail 
arrived. He carried, not a gun, but a stout 
stick, sometimes called “dog-medicine,”’ and 
that was all that prevented the Dog attacking 
the enemy of his prey. 
This seemed to be the end of the trail. The 
trick, whether planned or not, was a success, 
and the Rabbit got rid of his troublesome fol- 
lower. 
Next day the stranger made another search 
for the Jack and found, not himself, but his 
track. He knew it by its tail-mark, its long 
leaps and few spy-hops, but with it and run- 
ning by it was the track of a smaller Rabbit. 
Here is where they met, here they chased each 
other in play, for no signs of battle were there 
to be seen; here they fed or sat together in the 
sun, there they ambled side by side, and here 
again they sported in the snow, always to- 
225 
