waved
his arm angrily at Olenin and pushed forward almost on all fours. 'He
don't like a man's mug.'

Olenin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began
examining a tree. A cock-pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog that
was barking at it, and Olenin saw the pheasant; but at that moment a
report, as of a cannon, came from Eroshka's enormous gun, the bird
fluttered up and, losing some feathers, fell to the ground. Coming up
to the old man Olenin disturbed another, and raising his gun he aimed
and fired. The pheasant flew swiftly up and then, catching at the
branches as he fell, dropped like a stone to the ground.

'Good man!' the old man (who could not hit a flying bird) shouted,
laughing.

Having picked up the pheasants they went on. Olenin, excited by the
exercise and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old man.

'Stop! Come this way,' the old man interrupted. 'I noticed the track of
deer here yesterday.'

After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred
paces they scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and
partly under water. Olenin failed to keep up with the old huntsman and
presently Daddy Eroshka, some twenty paces in front, stooped down,
nodding and beckoning with his arm. On coming up with him Olenin saw a
man's footprint to which the old man was pointing.

'D'you see?'

'Yes, well?' said Olenin, trying to speak as calmly as he could. 'A
man's footstep!'

Involuntarily a thought of Cooper's Pathfinder and of abreks flashed
through Olenin's mind, but noticing the mysterious manner with which
the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and remained in
doubt whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear of danger or by
the sport.

'No, it's my own footprint,' the old man said quietly, and pointed to
some grass under which the track of an animal was just perceptible.

The old man went on; and Olenin kept up with him.

Descending to lower ground some twenty paces farther on they came upon
a spreading pear-tree, under which, on the black earth, lay the fresh
dung of some animal.

The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy arbour,
dark and cool.

'He's been here this morning,' said the old man with a sigh; 'the lair
is still damp, quite fresh.'

Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces from
where they stood. They both started and seized their guns, but they
could see nothing and only heard the branch