THE DEATH. 107 



frightened deer had betaken themselves to a less noisy 

 district. 



It is rather an exciting moment, even for men who 

 have killed dozens of deer, when, after standing about 

 listlessly for some time, the dogs begin to give tongue. 

 In a moment the hunter feels filled with new life: he 

 listens wath the greatest attention to the slightest sound. 

 The full cry of the hounds, though faint at first, grows 

 more and more distinct and musical, as it comes nearer 

 and nearer. The eyes of the hunter are fixed upon the 

 path by which he expects to meet the deer. If a dry 

 stick snaps, the gun is instantly brought to his 

 shoulder. 



Presently there is a crushing sound amongst the 

 bushes, and in another moment a fine buck comes 

 plunging out into the open space. For a moment he 

 stands with head erect, not knowing whither to turn, 

 for the baying of the dogs proclaims foes behind him, 

 while his keen nostrils have detected an enemy before. 

 As he half turns himself, the rifle is brought to bear ; 

 there is a shot; the animal gathers up his body as 

 though in pain, and makes one bound into the thicket. 

 Up come the hounds, yelling like demons, and plunge 

 into the covert where the deer lies dead. A loud 

 tw^ang upon the hunting-horn proclaims that one 

 more lord of the forest will never tread the wilderness 



ao'am. 



Then, when the sun renders the chase too hot to be 



