142 HILLS AND LAKES, 



till my hand was steady, for I knew if I was calm, I 

 could put a ball between his eyes from where I stood, 

 and no mistake, I sighted him close and steady at 

 last, and. pulled. The painter leaped straight towards, 

 and fell a few yards from me, dead, with his skull 

 shattered by my ball. ' There,' said I to myself, as I 

 fell to reloading my rifle, ' old Pete didn't think when 

 he told me to fire only at a painter, or a big buck, 

 that that cussed critter was about.' I was a big feelin' 

 man then, Squire, and about the proudest one in the 

 Shatagee country. 



" I was examinin' the beast, when I heard far off 

 in the woods, the voice of old Eoarer, deep and 

 drawn -out-like at first; after a moment I heard it 

 again. The time between his baying became shorter 

 and shorter, till the dogs both broke out in a fierce 

 continuous cry, and I knew the game was up and 

 away. I needn't tell you, Squire, of the music there 

 is in the voice of a pair of stag hounds, in the deep 

 forests of a still morning. How it echoes among the 

 mountains, and swells over the quiet lake ; how it 

 comes up like a trumpet from the forest dells, and 

 glancin' away upward, seems to fill the whole air with 

 its joyous notes. The dogs took a turn away to the 



