long
grass, began to caress an enormous hound that panted at his feet, as
unconcernedly as though the forest now contained nothing more formidable
than doves or lambs. His horse, thoroughly domesticated, strayed a
little from the dead boar, feeding as it went.

The youth took off his plumed bonnet, and, flinging back his long black
hair, fell into one of those light, smiling day-dreams which belong only
to the young and innocent. He built fifteen air-castles in as many
minutes. But at last he grew impatient; he sounded blast after blast;
still no answer came. The trees kept up their sleepy sigh, and the
sapless branches creaked, but no human voice, no human foot save his
own, broke the silence.

"Thou hast given me a goodly chase," exclaimed the youth, springing up
and addressing the boar, "and I shall wear this in remembrance of thee."

He drew his hunting-knife, and soon uprooted one of the monster's tusks.
Depositing the precious relic in a hunting pouch he wore at his side, he
mounted his horse, rather puzzled where to go.

"It is easier to get in this oaken field than to get out of it," said
our hunter, "but if the forest have an end, I'll find it. Now, my dear
loitering friends, we hunt each other."

Giving his horse the spur, and allowing the creature to choose its
course, he called on the lagging hounds, and dashed away as rapidly as
he had come. The wood was light as ever, and here and there sunbeam
lay, like a golden spear, along the ground yet the rich lustre of the
sky, wherever it was visible the hum of numberless insects, the fresh
flight of the awakened bird, and the freer and cooler breeze, warned the
youth that sunset was near. On went the noble steed, with steady step
and trembling nostril while his finely veined ears spoke so rapidly that
the rider could scarcely understand their language. They passed through
long lines of trees that opened into other lines, from one limited
horizon to another, yet all was green before and behind, to the right
and to the left, one interminable emerald. The light turned from a rich
gold to a golden red, and yet it played only on whispering leaves and on
the long grass at their feet. Still the youth felt no fear, but hummed
some old ballad, or drew a lively peal from his horn. He dismounted to
refresh himself at a spring that had nestled among some rocks, and was
murmuring there like a spoiled child. Having cared for the gallant
animal which had borne him so well,