sometime guest of Colonel Blount at the Big House plantation and
companion of the hunt, made now a figure if not wholly eye-filling,
at least handsome and distinguished. His dress was neat to the verge
of foppishness, nor did it seem much disordered by the hardships of
the chase. Upon his clean-cut face there sat a certain arrogance, as
of one at least desirous of having his own way in his own sphere. Not
an ill-looking man, upon the whole, was Henry Decherd, though his
reddish-yellow eyes, a bit oblique in their setting, gave the
impression alike of a certain touchiness of temper and an
unpleasantly fox-like quality of character. There was an air not
barren of self-consciousness as he threw himself out of the saddle,
for it might have been seen that under his saddle, and not that of
Colonel Blount, there rested the black and glossy hide of the great
bear which had been the object of the chase. Decherd stood with his
hand resting on the hide and gazed somewhat eagerly, one might have
thought, toward the gallery whence came the flash of scarlet ribbons.

Colonel Blount busied himself with directions as to the horses and
dogs. The latter came straggling along in groups or pairs or singles,
some of them hobbling on three legs, many showing bitter wounds. The
chase of the great bear had proved stern pastime for them. Of half a
hundred hounds which had started, not two-thirds were back again, and
many of these would be unfit for days for the resumption of their
savage trade. None the less, as the master sounded again, loud and
clear, the call for the assembly, all the dogs about the place, young
and old, homekeepers and warriors, came pouring in with heads
uplifted, each pealing out his sweet and mournful music. Colonel
Blount spoke to dozens of them, calling each by its proper name.

"Here, Bill," he called to that worthy, who had now ventured to