Go to him, and pinch his ear, that the beast may feel the life within him." "Not so--not so," returned the trapper, shaking his head as one who better understood the qualities of his dog.--"Youth sleeps, ay, and dreams too; but age is awake and watchful.

The pup is never false with his nose, and long experience tells me to heed his warnings." "Did you ever run him upon the trail of carrion ?" "Why, I must say, that the ravenous beasts have sometimes tempted me to let him loose, for they are as greedy as men, after the venison, in its season; but then I knew the reason of the dog, would tell him the object!--No--no, Hector is an animal known in the ways of man, and will never strike a false trail when a true one is to be followed!" "Ay, ay, the secret is out! you have run the hound on the track of a wolf, and his nose has a better memory than his master!" said the bee-hunter, laughing.
"I have seen the creatur' sleep for hours, with pack after pack, in open view.

A wolf might eat out of his tray without a snarl, unless there was a scarcity; then, indeed, Hector would be apt to claim his own." "There are panthers down from the mountains; I saw one make a leap at a sick deer, as the sun was setting.

Go; go you back to the dog, and tell him the truth, father; in a minute, I--" He was interrupted by a long, loud, and piteous howl from the hound, which rose on the air of the evening, like the wailing of some spirit of the place, and passed off into the prairie, in cadences that rose and fell, like its own undulating surface.

The trapper was impressively silent, listening intently.