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
door-nail. 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 watchman'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.

Marengo was reprieved, and he seemed to know it, as he bounded over the
snow, waving his tail, and barking like a young fool.

They all ran up to the hare, which proved to be the "Polar hare" and one
of the largest of its species--not less than fifteen pounds in weight.
Its fur, soft and white like swan-down, was stained with red blood. It
was not quite dead. Its little heart yet beat faintly, and the light of
life was still shining from its beautiful honey-coloured eyes. Both it
and the owl were taken up and carried to the sledge, which was once more