MY UNSUCCESSFUL HUNTING DOG. 87 



my back, he scented my approach, and bounded over a 

 fallen tree to gain the thicket ; my buck shot flew after 

 him, but I must have fired low, for at about 150 paces 

 he began to limp with his hind leg. By this time my 

 dog must have thought that he had played the mere 

 spectator long enough, and having bitten through the 

 powder-horn string, he bounded after the deer with my 

 handkerchief about his neck, and neither deer, dog, nor 

 handkerchief have I ever seen since. 



About sunset I arrived at a house where I purposed 

 to pass the night, and had placed my hand on the fence 

 to jump over, when I saw the mistress of the house 

 sitting before the door, occupied with her children's 

 heads in a way that suppressed all inclination to speak 

 on my part. I turned away, resolving rather to pass 

 the night in the forest than with such a family ; yet 

 this alternative was unnecessary, for before dark I 

 reached the dwelling of a man who had fought under 

 Washington in the war of independence ; of course he 

 was very old, but he moved about with considerable 

 vigor. 



On the following evening I came to the Little Red 

 river. It Avas growing dark, but a man was still at 

 work on the other side. I called to him, asking where 

 I could pass. He answered : " You see that house 

 there ? " By his accent I kne\v that he was a German, 

 and asked again, in good Saxon : " What house ? " He 

 replied again, in a mixture of German and English, and 

 in a tone of vexation at having forgotten his pure 

 mother tongue : " Go a little way down the river, and 

 you will find a canoe." We were already good friends, 

 although divided by the river. I found the canoe, 



