THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 19 



The hunter called them his "pups." Since waddling puppies the 

 youngsters had, been under the artful tutorship of old Bruce. They had 

 oft times been on the trail and in the din of battle, being well versed 

 in the art of the old master. The hounds were all uneasy, clamoring 

 for the fray. The hunter and his faithful dogs had been very success- 

 ful in ridding the range of the presence of their foe. It had been a 

 fortnight since the pack had had the sport of chasing the panther to 

 his lair. 



It was some task for the hunter to keep pace as his feet followed 

 the chained animals as they forged ahead in the unbroken path. Sud- 

 denly they emerged from the deep recesses of the dense forest, into a 

 large clearing which had been made by a forest fire. The view from 

 the opening was high upon the mountain side, far above their return 

 route to camp. The hoary evergreen forest, fringed with the lingering 

 morning mist, greeted the eye of the hunter to the vanishing point in 

 the far-reaching uplands. 



The sunshine glistened brightly upon the snow, and with the brisk 

 walking it had splashed the lean cheek of the hunter with a lustrous 

 pink. Halting, he removed his fur cap from his head; his unkempt 

 brown hair hung crinkly and moistly on the edge of his forehead. Of a 

 medium size and erect figure, vitality merrily rippled in his blue, con- 

 tented eyes. 



Kemoving his powerful field glasses from their case he placed them 

 to his eyes, sweeping his vision over the vast mountain slope. While 

 surveying his surroundings, he was interrupted by the whining of old 

 Bruce. Lowering the glasses he turned to the old dog, which continued 

 his whining, with his entire body in a tremor while he sniffed the balmy 

 air and cast his gaze toward their rear. ' l Well, old timer, what is your 

 trouble now?" remarked the hunter as he raised the glasses to continue 

 the survey of the mountains. The hunter was well aware that the old 

 dog with his keen scent or ear had detected the presence of some 

 animal. Lowering the glasses, he returned them to the case dangling 

 at his side, then moving a few paces back, sat down upon a log at the 

 edge of the clearing. He bade the dogs "lie down," which command 

 they obeyed by crouching down on the snow, then quietness for a few 

 moments reigned over the animated scene in the mountain wilderness. 

 Hark! Faintly; then harsher came the sound of the deep howl of the 

 timber wolf, far to their rear. Instantly, the young dogs detected the 

 distant call as it clearly wafted over the vast stillness. Springing 

 quickly to their feet, joined by old Bruce, the dogs crowded around 

 their master, whining for their freedom to begin the chase. 



"Timber wolves! Dern their pesky hides! It's the first time this 

 winter I've heard that familiar beckon in this neck of the woods. 

 Lordy! she's been some storm; it's driving them' down from above," 

 remarked the hunter, gesturing to his dogs as he slowly arose to his 

 feet from the seat on the snow-covered log. "Move on, old timer," 

 commanded the hunter, addressing old Bruce, as he pointed to the west- 

 ern slope with his staff which he had cut by the wayside early in the 

 journey. The old dog tightened his chain and led the way as directed. 



The hunter had been in these mountains for the past three years 

 as government hunter, and for sixteen years before as a homesteader 

 and hunter, and knew well all the haunts and habits of the game and 

 animals. He had established his camp and headquarters at Willow 

 Flat, a few miles to the south down the muontain side, and was situ- 

 ated at the junction of two neighboring streams, which headed far above 

 in the summit of the divide. It was the terminal of the wagon road 

 leading from the valley below, and was only accessible with vehicles 



