"It is a fine country," said Mr. Ringgan — "all this tract —
and I ought to know it, for I have hunted every mile of it for
many a mile around. There used to be more game than partridges
in these hills, when I was a young man; bears and wolves, and
deer, and now and then a panther, to say nothing of
rattlesnakes."

"That last-mentioned is an irregular sort or game, is it not."
said Mr. Carleton, smiling.

"Well, game is what you choose to make it," said the old
gentleman. "I have seen worse days' sport than I saw once when
we were out after rattlesnakes, and nothing else. There was a
cave, Sir, down under a mountain, a few miles to the south of
this, right at the foot of a bluff some four or five hundred
feet sheer down; it was known to be a resort of those
creatures, and a party of us went out — it's many years ago,
now — to see if we couldn't destroy the nest; exterminate the
whole horde. We had one dog with us, a little dog, a kind of
spaniel, a little white and yellow fellow, and he did the
work! Well, Sir, how many of those vermin do you guess that
little creature made a finish of that day? of large and small,
Sir, there were two hundred and twelve."

"He must have been a gallant little fellow."

"You never saw a creature, Sir, take to a sport better; he
just dashed in among them, from one to another, he would catch
a snake by the neck and give it a shake, and throw it down and