United States or Western Sahara ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
When it came, our disappointment concerning the wolf-hunt lay heavy on many a mind as well as mine; but a strong frost had set in before daybreak, and at the early nightfall a finer prospect for sledging could not be desired over the broad plain, and far between the forest pines; the ice stretched away as smooth and bright as a mirror.
As I was very anxious to see a wolf-hunt the Judge volunteered to get one up, and asked old man Prindle to assist, for the sake of his two big fighting dogs; though the very names of the latter, General Grant and Old Abe, were gall and wormwood to the unreconstructed soul of the Judge.
Foxhounds had failed they were too soft for fighting; Great Danes were too clumsy, and Greyhounds could not follow the game unless they could see it. Each breed had some fatal defect, but the cow-men hoped to succeed with a mixed pack, and the day when I was invited to join in a Mendoza Wolf-hunt, I was amused by the variety of Dogs that followed.
In fact, as Peter showed a disposition to regard as final her answer to him on the day he had spurred across the desert, Kitty, with true feminine perversity, inclined to permit him to resume his suit. His acquiescence in her refusal she had at first regarded as the turning of the worm; after the wolf-hunt, however, her meditations were more disturbing.
When she walked she breathed, carried herself, covered ground like her mother’s people, and loved the inspiration of it. The eerie shadows of the desert drew back and hid themselves in the mountains. The day began with splendid promise—the day of the wolf-hunt, of which no word had been spoken to her by Peter.
"What hunt?" asked Judith, in all simplicity. "Why, the wolf-hunt. Peter Hamilton come here three days ago and made arrangements for ’em all to have supper here after it was done. ’Lowed there was a young Eastern lady in the party, Miss Colebrooke, who couldn’t wait to meet me. Course you’re goin’, Judy? You’ve plumb forgot it, or somethin’ happened to the messenger.
"It had been," said the gentleman who narrated the incident, "a severe winter in Vitebsk and Vilna. I had spent several weeks at the country residence of a friend in Vitebsk, and we heard, during the latter part of my stay, rumors of the unusual ferocity of the wolves. "One day Kanchin, my host, proposed a wolf-hunt.
It was not long before the curse fell upon them. One fine morning in the month of December, the duke left the chateau to take part in a wolf-hunt in the neighborhood. At nightfall, his horse returned, panting, covered with foam, and riderless. What had become of its master?
There, leaning against a tree, with my firelock under my arm, I forgot the wolf-hunt entirely; my thoughts had travelled back to Seraphina's cosy room. After a time shots were heard in the far distance; but at the same moment there was a rustling in the reed-bank, and I saw not ten paces from me a huge wolf about to run past me. I took aim, and fired, but missed.
"Ho!" exclaimed Harry, making a vigorous thrust at the fire, "then you've no chance now." "No chance! what do you mean?" "Only that we are to have a wolf-hunt in the plains tomorrow; and if you've aggravated your father, he'll be taking you home to-night, that's all."
Word Of The Day