shed out, and was racing across
the little interval, or clear space between the river bank and the
first jumble of rocks where the abrupt rise of the mountain slope
began. Just in front of him, so close it seemed the next leap would
surely enable him to seize the creature, glided, rather than ran, so
swift and stealthy was the motion, some large animal, bearing a white
chicken in its mouth. A tiny trail of white feathers drifted backward
as the animal ran, while the helpless white wings beat the air
frantically on either side of the unyielding jaws.

The poor chick might be badly hurt, but it could still squawk and
struggle. Indignation gave me renewed strength. I ran forward,
shouting, "Sic him, Guard, sic him!" and the next instant my foot
caught under a projecting root and I fell headlong to the ground. It
really seemed for a blank space as if my fall must have jarred the
earth. There was a whirling dance of stars all about my head; the
ground rolled and heaved underneath me; sky, earth, and trees swam
together, joining that whirling dance of stars. It must have been a
full minute before I was able to sit up and weakly wonder what had
happened. It all came back to me as a cold, moist nose touched my hand
and a sympathetic whimper broke the silence. I turned on Guard
reproachfully.

"Why did you leave that thing to come back to me, sir? You could have
caught it if you had kept right on after it, and you might have known
I'd get along all right without your help. Now, do you go and find it,
sir!" and I pointed imperatively, if rather vaguely, towards the
jumble of rocks. The chicken's cries had ceased; there was now nothing
to guide the dog, even if he understood, which I, having great faith
in his intelligence, believed he did. He ran along the trail for a
few yards, stopped, gave a joyful bark, and came running back to me
with a stick in his mouth.

I had been trying to teach him to retrieve, and my order, "go find
it," suggested that pastime to him. When he laid the stick at my feet,
wagging his tail and looking up in hopeful anticipation of the praise
that he felt to be his due, I could not find it in my heart to
withhold it. Besides, the chicken thief was, no doubt, safe in his
lair at this time, so, abandoning the hopeless pursuit, we made our
way homeward.

When Joe came in, and I related our adventure to him, he said: "Yo'
may t'ank yo' sta'hs, Miss Leslie, dat yo' done got dat tumble w'en
yo' did! Dat fe