, but 'stead o' that I only went a little piece 'n' left brother to
start th' hounds at a time we'd arranged ahead, while I lay quiet behind
a bunch o' balsam 'thin fifty yards o' my hunter. After 'bout twenty
minutes, the time I was supposed t' need t' get t' th' place t' start th'
hounds, I heard old Frank give tongue--must 'a struck a fresh trail th'
minute he was turned loose. Then it wa'n't long 'till th' other three
began t' sing, runnin' 'n' singin' a chorus that's jest th' sweetest
music on earth t' my ears.

"Talk about your war 'n' patriotic songs, your 'Rule Britannias' 'n'
'Maple Leaves,' your church hymns 'n' love songs, 'n' fancy French op'ras
like they have down t' Ottawa that Warry Hilliams took me to wonst! Why,
say, do youse think any o' them is in it with a hound chorus, th' deep
bass o' th' old hounds 'n' th' shrill tenor o' th' young ones--risin' 'n'
swellin' 'n' ringin' through th' bush till every idle echo loafin' in th'
coves o' th' ridges wakes up 'n' joins in her best, 'n' you'd think all
th' hounds in this old Province was runnin' 'n' chorusin' 'tween the Bubs
'n' Mud Bay; 'n' then th' chorus dyin' down softer 'n' softer till she's
low 'n' sweet 'n' sorta holy-soundin', like your own woman's voice
chantin' t' your youngest--say, do youse think there's any music in th'
world 's good 's th' hounds make runnin'?

"Well, I sot there behind th' balsams till th' dogs was drawin' near, 'n'
then I slips softly through th' bush t' where I'd left Mr. Hunter; 'n'
how do youse s'pose I found him, 'n' it no more'n half past seven in th'
mornin'? Youse never 'd guess in a thousand year. I'll jest tumpline
th' whole bunch o' youse 't one load from th' landin 't' th' Bertrand
farm if that feller wa'n't settin' with his back t' th' stump, facin' up
th' runway, his rifle 'tween his knees 'n' his fool head lopped over on
one shoulder, _dead asleep_! No wonder they never see nothin', was it?

"First I thought I'd wake him. Then I heard a deer comin' jumpin' down
th' runway, 'n' knowin' 'for I could get him wide awake 'nough t' cock
'n' sight his gun th' deer 'd be on us, I slipped up behind th' stump 'n'
laid my rifle 'cross its top, th' muzzle not over a foot above his
noddin' head. I was no more'n ready 'fore here come--a buck? No, I
guess not, 'cause they was jest crazy for some good buck heads; no, jest
a doe, but a good big one. Here she come boundin' along, her head half
turned listening t' th' d