snow.

“Lie down, you old villain,” exclaimed Leather-Stocking, shaking his
ramrod at Hector as he bounded toward the foot of the tree, “ lie
down, I say.” The dog obeyed, and Natty proceeded with great rapidity,
though with the nicest accuracy, to reload his piece. When this was
ended, he took up his game, and, showing it to the party without a
head, he cried: “ Here is a tidbit for an old man’s Christmas—never
mind the venison, boy, and remember Indian John; his yarbs are better
than all the foreign ‘intments. Here, Judge,” holding up the bird
again, “do you think a smooth-bore would pick game off their roost,
and not ruffle a feather?” The old man gave another of his remarkable
laughs, which partook so largely of exultation, mirth, and irony, and,
shaking his head, he turned, with his rifle at a trail, and moved into
the forest with steps that were between a walk and a trot. At each
movement he made his body lowered several inches, his knees yielding
with an inclination inward; but, as the sleigh turned at a bend in the
road, the youth cast his eyes in quest of his old companion, and he
saw that he was already nearly concealed by the trunks of the tree;
while his dogs were following quietly in his footsteps, occasionally
scenting the deer track, that they seemed to know instinctively was
now of no further use to them. Another jerk was given to the sleigh,
and Leather-Stocking was hid from view.




CHAPTER II