ere last night; no, this morning; no, scarcely an hour ago, and the
dim traces along the ridge show no sign of hurry or alarm. So I move on,
following surely the trail that, only a few days since, would have been
invisible as the trail of a fish in the lake to my unschooled eyes,
searching, searching everywhere for dim forms gliding among the trees,
till--a scream, a whistle, a rush away! And I know that the bluejay,
which has been gliding after me curiously the last ten minutes,--has
fathomed my intentions and flown ahead to alarm the deer, which are now
bounding away for denser cover.

I brush ahead heedlessly, knowing that caution here only wastes time,
and study the fresh trail where the quarry jumped away in alarm.
Straight down the wind it goes. Cunning old buck! He has no idea what
Bluejay's alarm was about, but a warning, whether of crow or jay or
tainted wind or snapping twig, is never lost on the wood folk. Now as he
bounds along, cleaving the woods like a living bolt, yet stopping short
every hundred yards or so to whirl and listen and sort the messages that
the wood wires bring to him, he is perfectly sure of himself and his
little flock, knowing that if danger follow down wind, his own nose will
tell him all about it. I glance at the sun; only another hour of light,
and I am six miles from home. I glance at the jay, flitting about
restlessly in a mixture of mischief and curiosity, whistling his
too-loo-loo loudly as a sign to the fleeing game that I am right here
and that he sees me. Then I take up the back trail, planning another
day.

So the days went by, one after another; the big buck, aided by his
friends the birds, held his own against my craft and patience. He grew
more wild and alert with every hunt, and kept so far ahead of me that
only once, before the snow blew, did I have even the chance of stalking
him, and then the cunning old fellow foiled me again masterfully.

Old Wally was afield too; but, so far as I could read from the woods'
record, he fared no better than I on the trail of the buck. Once, when I
knew my game was miles ahead, I heard the longdrawn whang of Wally's old
gun across a little valley. Presently the brush began to crackle, and
a small doe came jumping among the trees straight towards me. Within
thirty feet she saw me, caught herself at the top of her jump, came
straight down, and stood an instant as if turned to stone, with a spruce
branch bending over to hide her from my ey