'Only, lad, I did hear a gun go off; and I never heard Snip bark again, though I listened for him.

Stephen, Stephen, dunna thee go so mad like!' But it was no use shouting after Stephen, as he ran frantically up the hill.

Snip was always basking lazily in the sunshine under the hedge of the paddock, at the very point where he could catch the first sight of his young master, after which there was no more idleness or stillness in him.

Stephen could hardly breathe when he found that Snip was not at the usual place to greet him; but before he reached his home he saw it--the dead body of his own poor Snip--hung on the post of the wicket through which he had to pass.

He flew to the place; he tore his own hands with the nails that were driven through Snip's feet; and then, without a thought of his grandfather or of his own hunger, he bore away the dead dog in his arms, and wandered far out of sight or sound of the hateful, cruel world, into one of the most solitary plains upon the uplands.
Any one passing by might have thought that Stephen was fast asleep in the last slanting rays of the sun, which shone upon him there some time after the evening shadows had fallen upon Botfield; but a frenzy of passion, too strong for any words, had felled him to the ground, where he lay beside Snip.