Throwing one end of his rifle
to the earth, he stood leaning on the other, again lost in deep
contemplation for several minutes, during which time his hound came
and crouched at his feet. A deep, menacing growl, from the faithful
animal, first aroused him from his musing.
"What now, dog?" he said, looking down at his companion, as if he
addressed a being of an intelligence equal to his own, and speaking in
a voice of great affection. "What is it, pup? ha! Hector; what is it
nosing, now? It won't do, dog; it won't do; the very fa'ns play in
open view of us, without minding so worn out curs, as you and I.
Instinct is their gift, Hector and, they have found out how little we
are to be feared, they have!"
The dog stretched his head upward, and responded to the words of his
master by a long and plaintive whine, which he even continued after he
had again buried his head in the grass, as if he held an intelligent
communication with one who so well knew how to interpret dumb
discourse.
"This is a manifest warning, Hector!" the trapper continued, dropping
his voice, to the tones of caution and looking warily about him.
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