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"Look out for the wolf!" shouted Abner, shaking his head in vexation,
at being a single moment too late. "A wolf's skin will be no bad gift
in a winter's night; ay, yonder the hungry devil comes!"
"Hold!" cried Ishmael, knocking up the levelled weapon of his too
eager son. "'Tis not a wolf; but a hound of thorough blood and bottom.
Ha! we have hunters nigh: there ar' two of them!"
He was still speaking, when the animals in question came leaping on
the track of the deer, striving with noble ardour to outdo each other.
One was an aged dog, whose strength seemed to be sustained purely by
generous emulation, and the other a pup, that gambolled even while he
pressed most warmly on the chase. They both ran, however, with clean
and powerful leaps, carrying their noses high, like animals of the
most keen and subtle scent. They had passed; and in another minute
they would have been running open-mouthed with the deer in view, had
not the younger dog suddenly bounded from the course, and uttered a
cry of surprise.


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