THE SNOW-WALKERS. 



57 



tains. 1 I go out in the morning, after a fresh fall of 

 snow, and see at all points where he has crossed the 

 road. Here he has leisurely passed within rifle-range 

 of the house, evidently reconnoitering the premises, 

 with an eye to the hen-roost. That clear, sharp track, 

 — there is no mistaking it for the clumsy foot-print of 

 a/ little dog. All his wildness and agility are photo- 

 graphed in it. Here he has taken fright, or suddenly 

 recollected an engagement, and in long, graceful leaps, 

 barely touching the fence, has gone careering up the 

 hill as fleet as the wind. 



The wild, buoyant creature, how beautiful he is ! I 

 had often seen his dead carcass, and, at a distance, had 

 witnessed the hounds drive him across the upper fields ; 

 but the thrill and excitement of meeting him in his 

 wild freedom in the woods were unknown to me, till, 

 one cold winter day, drawn thither by the baying of 

 a hound, I stood near the summit of the mountain, 

 waiting a renewal of the sound, that I might determine 

 the course of the dog and choose my position, — stimu- 

 lated by the ambition of all young Nimrods, to bag 

 some notable game. Long I waited, and patiently, till, 

 chilled and benumbed, I was about to turn back, when, 

 hearing a slight noise, I looked up and beheld a most 

 superb fox, loping along with inimitable grace and 

 ease, evidently disturbed, but not pursued by the hound, 

 and so absorbed in his private meditations that he 

 failed to see me, though I stood transfixed with amaze- 



1 A spur of the Catskills. 



