DOWN THE RAVINE BY CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK.




CHAPTER I.

The new moon, a gleaming scimitar, cleft the gauzy mists above a
rugged spur of the Cumberland Mountains. The sky, still crimson and
amber, stretched vast and lonely above the vast and lonely
landscape. A fox was barking in the laurel.

This was an imprudent proceeding on the part of the fox, considering
the value of his head-gear. A young mountaineer down the ravine was
reminded, by the sharp, abrupt sound, of a premium offered by the
State of Tennessee for the scalp and ears of the pestiferous red
fox.

All unconscious of the legislation of extermination, the animal sped
nimbly along the ledge of a cliff, becoming visible from the ravine
below, a tawny streak against the gray rock. Swift though he was, a
jet of red light flashing out in the dusk was yet swifter. The
echoing crags clamored with the report of a rifle. The tawny streak
was suddenly still. Three boys appeared in the depths of the ravine
and looked up.

"Thar now! Ye can't git him off'n that thar ledge, Birt," said Tim
Griggs. "The contrairy beastis couldn't hev fund a more ill-
convenient spot ter die of he hed sarched the mounting."