eter being the full breadth of the
summit level, which was about three hundred yards. In this circle he
walked round and round, keeping his eye fixed upon the crouching animal.
When he had nearly completed one circumference, he began to shorten the
diameter--so that the curve which he was now following was a spiral one,
and gradually drawing nearer to the hare. The latter kept watching him
as he moved--curiosity evidently mingling with her fears. Fortunately,
as Norman had said, the sun was nearly in the vertex of the heavens, and
his own body cast very little shadow upon the snow. Had it been
otherwise, the hare would have been frightened at the moving shadow, and
would have sprung out of her form, before he could have got within
range.

When he had made some four or five circuits, Norman moved slower and
slower, and then stopped nearly opposite to where the others were.
These stood watching him with beating hearts, for they knew that the
life of Marengo, and perhaps their own as well, depended on the shot.
Norman had chosen his place, so that in case the hare bolted, she might
run towards them, and give them the chance of a flying shot. His gun
was already at his shoulder--his finger rested on the trigger, and the
boys were expecting the report, when again the shadow of a bird flitted
over the snow, a loud human-like scream sounded in their ears, and the
hare was seen to spring up, and stretch her long legs in flight. At the
same instant the great snowy owl was observed wheeling above, and
threatening to pounce upon the fleeing animal!

The hare ran in a side-direction, but it brought her as she passed
within range of the party by the sledge. The owl kept above her as she
ran. A dozen leaps was all the hare ever made. A loud crack was heard,
and she was seen to spring up and fall back upon the snow, dead as a
doornail. Like an echo another crack followed--a wild scream rang
through the air, and the great white owl fell fluttering to the earth.
The reports were not of a rifle. They were the louder detonations of a
shot-gun. All eyes were turned towards Francois, who, like a little
god, stood enveloped in a halo of blue smoke. Francois was the hero of
the hour.

Marengo rushed forward and seized the struggling owl, that snapped its
bill at him like a watch-man's rattle. But Marengo did not care for
that; and seizing its head in his teeth, gave it a crunch that at once
put an end to its flapping.

Mare