is path led him into the bed of a stream, whose waters could
be heard faintly tinkling on thin pebbles beneath their coverlet of ice
and snow. His slow steps conducted him far along this open course. Soon
after he had disappeared, around a curve in the distance there came the
panther, following stealthily upon his crimsoned trail. The crafty beast
was waiting till the bleeding and the hunger should do its work, and the
object of its inexorable pursuit should have no more heart left for
resistance.

This was late in the afternoon. The ox was now possessed with his
desire, and would not lie down for any rest. All night long, through the
gleaming silver of the open spaces, through the weird and checkered
gloom of the deep forest, heedless even of his hunger, or perhaps driven
the more by it as he thought of the wild clover bunches and tender
timothy awaiting him, the solitary ox strove on. And all night, lagging
far behind in his unabating caution, the panther followed him.

At sunrise the worn and stumbling animal came out upon the borders of
the great lake, stretching its leagues of unshadowed snow away to the
south before him. There was his path, and without hesitation he followed
it. The wide and frost-bound water here and there had been swept clear
of its snows by the wind, but for the most part its covering lay
unruffled; and the pale dove-colors, and saffrons, and rose-lilacs of
the dawn were sweetly reflected on its surface.

The doomed ox was now journeying very slowly, and with the greatest
labor. He staggered at every step, and his beautiful head drooped almost
to the snow. When he had got a great way out upon the lake, at the
forest's edge appeared the pursuing panther, emerging cautiously from
the coverts. The round tawny face and malignant green eyes were raised
to peer out across the expanse. The laboring progress of the ox was
promptly marked. Dropping its nose again to the ensanguined snow, the
beast resumed his pursuit, first at a slow trot, and then at a long,
elastic gallop. By this time the ox's quest was nearly done. He plunged
forward upon his knees, rose again with difficulty, stood still, and
looked around him. His eyes were clouding over, but he saw, dimly, the
tawny brute that was now hard upon his steps. Back came a flash of the
old courage, and he turned, horns lowered, to face the attack. With the
last of his strength he charged, and the panther paused irresolutely;
but the wanderer's knees