hat's the same schooner, makin' heavy weather o' the
gale!' ... 'There she is, Jutt!' says he. 'Ay,' says I, 'God help her,
that's the doctor's sloop! They've wrecked the _Trap an' Seine_'.... An'
there he sat, watchin', with his chin on his hand, 'til the doctor's
sloop went over, an' the fog drifted over the sea where she had been....
An' then he went home; an' no man seed un agin 'til he called for the
dogs. An' he went away--in haste--alone--like a man gone mad...."

The lean-handed clerk broke in. He was blue about the lips--his eyes
sunk in shadowy pits--and he was shivering.

"'Timmons,' says he to me," he chattered, "'I'm going home. I done
wrong,' says he. 'They'll kill me for this.'"

"An' when he got the dogs in the traces," Jonas proceeded, "I seed he
wasn't ready for no long journey. 'Good Lord, Jagger,' says I, 'you
isn't got no grub for the dogs!' 'Dogs!' says he. 'I'll feed the dogs
with me whip.' 'Jagger,' says I, 'don't you try it. They won't _eat_ a
whip. They can't _live_ on it.' 'Never you fear,' says he. 'I'll feed
them ugly brutes when they gets me t' Cape Charles Harbour.' 'Jagger,'
says I, 'you better look out they don't feed theirselves afore they gets
you there. You got a ugly leader,' says I, 'in that red-eyed brute.'
'Him?' says he. 'Oh, I got _him_ broke!' But he _didn't_ have----"

"And with that," said the clerk, "off he put."

"Men," cried Tom Tot, looking about upon our group, "we'll cotch un
yet!"

So we set out in pursuit of Jagger of Wayfarer's Tickle, who had fled
over the hills--I laugh to think of it--with an ugly, red-eyed leader,
to be fed with a whip: which dog I knew.... No snow fell. The days were
clear--the nights moonlit. Bitter cold continued. We followed a plain
track--sleeping by night where the quarry had slept.... Day after day
we pushed on: with no mercy on the complaining dogs--plunging through
the drifts, whipping the team up the steeper hills, speeding when the
going lay smooth before us.... By and by we drew near. Here and there
the snow was significantly trampled. There were signs of confusion and
cross purposes. The man was desperately fighting his dogs.... One night,
the dogs were strangely restless--sniffing the air, sleepless, howling;
nor could we beat them to their beds in the snow: they were like wolves.
And next day--being then two hours after dawn--we saw before us a bloody
patch of snow: whereupon Tom Tot cried out in horror.

"Oh, dear God!" he