of the rising sun crimsoned the eastern
sky, Wetzel slowly wound his way down a rugged hill far west of
Beautiful Spring. A white dog, weary and footsore, limped by his
side. Both man and beast showed evidence of severe exertion.

The hunter stopped in a little cave under a projecting stone, and,
laying aside his rifle, began to gather twigs and sticks. He was
particular about selecting the wood, and threw aside many pieces
which would have burned well; but when he did kindle a flame it
blazed hotly, yet made no smoke.

He sharpened a green stick, and, taking some strips of meat from his
pocket, roasted them over the hot flame. He fed the dog first. Mose
had crouched close on the ground with his head on his paws, and his
brown eyes fastened upon the hunter.

"He had too big a start fer us," said Wetzel, speaking as if the dog
were human. It seemed that Wetzel's words were a protest against the
meaning in those large, sad eyes.

Then the hunter put out the fire, and, searching for a more secluded
spot, finally found one on top of the ledge, where he commanded a
good view of his surroundings. The weary dog was asleep. Wetzel
settled himself to rest, and was soon wrapped in slumber.

About noon he awoke. He arose, stretched his limbs, and then took an
easy position on the front of the ledge, where he could look below.
Evidently the hunter was waiting for something. The dog slept on. It
was the noonday hour, when the stillness of the forest almost
matched that of midnight. The birds were more quiet than at any
other time during daylight.

Wetzel reclined there with his head against the stone, and his rifle
resting across his knees.

He listened now to the sounds of the forest. The soft breeze
fluttering among the leaves, the rain-call of the tree frog, the caw
of crows from distant hilltops, the sweet songs of the thrush and
oriole, were blended together naturally, harmoniously.

But suddenly the hunter raised his head. A note, deeper than the
others, a little too strong, came from far down the shaded hollow.
To Wetzel's trained ear it was a discord. He manifested no more than
this attention, for the birdcall was the signal he had been
awaiting. He whistled a note in answer that was as deep and clear as
the one which had roused him.

Moments passed. There was no repetition of the sound. The songs of
the other birds had ceased. Besides Wetzel there was another
intruder in the woods.

Mose lifted his shaggy hea