marigold, the
hollyhock, and the fragrant honeysuckle. We got to the tavern at
Chateaugay about dusk, and put up for the night, as becomes a
Christian.

Next afternoon we came to rough roads again, camping at sundown
along the shore of a noisy brook. The dog began to bark fiercely
while supper was making, and scurried off into a thicket.

D'ri was stooping over, cooking the meat. He rose and listened.

"Thet air dog's a leetle scairt," said he. "Guess we better go 'n'
see whut 's the matter."

He took his rifle and I my sword,--I never thought of another
weapon,--making off through the brush. The dog came whining to
D'ri and rushing on, eager for us to follow. We hurried after him,
and in a moment D'ri and the dog, who were ahead of me, halted
suddenly.

"It 's a painter," said D'ri, as I came up. "See 'im in thet air
tree-top. I 'll larrup 'im with Ol' Beeswax, then jes' like es not
he 'll mek some music. Better grab holt o' the dog. 'T won't dew
fer 'im to git tew rambunctious, er the fust thing he knows he
won't hev no insides in 'im."

I could see the big cat clinging high in the top boughs of a birch
and looking calmly down at us. The tree-top swayed, quivering, as
it held the great dun beast. My heart was like to smother me when
D'ri raised his rifle and took aim. The dog broke away at the
crack of it. The painter reeled and spat; then he came crashing
through the branches, striking right and left with his fore paws to
save himself. He hit the ground heavily, and the dog was on him.
The painter lay as if dead. Before I could get near, Rover began
shaking him by the neck. He came to suddenly, and struck the dog
with a front claw, dragging him down. A loud yelp followed the
blow. Quick as a flash D'ri had caught the painter by the tail and
one hind leg. With a quick surge of his great, slouching
shoulders, he flung him at arm's-length. The lithe body doubled on
a tree trunk, quivered, and sank down, as the dog came free. In a
jiffy I had run my sword through the cat's belly and made an end of
him.

"Knew 'f he got them hind hooks on thet air dog he 'd rake his ribs
right off," said D'ri, as he lifted his hat to scratch his head.
"Would n't 'a' left nothin' but the backbone,--nut a thing,--an'
thet would n't 'a' been a real fust-class one, nuther."

When D'ri was very positive, his words were well braced with
negatives.

We took the painter by the hind legs and dragged him through