Identifier: outing48newy (find matches)
Title: Outing
Year: 1885 (1880s)
Authors:
Subjects: Leisure Sports Travel
Publisher: (New York : Outing Pub. Co.)
Contributing Library: Tisch Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Library Consortium Member Libraries

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Between us we talked it over. Wewould hunt a night chance, said Henry, fornight was not so far away, and when wehad laid a camp, go back and wait in thedusk for bruin. That seemed good enough—there would be need of warmth and com-fort after this days drenching and weari-ness. So we pushed back toward the placeof bruins feast, and drifting down a blindgully, hunted the choicest spot to camp.Before long we found it, too—a runningbrook, a tall rock to hold the fires heat,dry wood in a neighboring windfall, and asmall hollow where the raw north windshould not hunt us out. Already the sun had dipped toward theedges of the trees, and a duskiness beganto gather in the basins of the hills. Notso bad, hey? ventured Henry, unlimberingthe axe at his belt. Ive seen worse,manys- The words broke off short. I saw himstart, his nostrils thinning crisply, andlowering the axe, turn his head slowlytoward the hill. Hark—dye hear that! he cried sharply.Listen! Already I had heard it, and stood there
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Again he reared, a thing bestial and fearful. Painting by Philip R. Goodwia. A Stern Chase 209 wondering. The wind, drifting away to itsnight rest, had died among the trees, and adeep silence hung over the forest wild.Then came that sound anew—a cry low andmournful, raised like a far-off shout of dis-tress, coming through the distance in awhisper, but speaking loudly its miseries.Jump alive! screamed Henry, snatchingup his axe, come on— its him! Hell hastuck his paws into trouble! So Good, it seemed, had got there before,and if we had but stuck to the mans tracksthat day, we had found it. Henry tookthe brook at a single jump, flounderingperilously on the shore ice, and with metumbling along at his heels, rushed the .height like a deer. That camp-chance be-hind us we never saw again. The first spurttook us to the crest, and turning with ashout to urge me faster, he plunged on,helter-skelter, the speed of the wind in hislegs. Henry — Henry! I yelled to him,slow down! The pace was

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