g this, he
strode forward desperately, and urging the hounds onward, followed
closely in the rear in a stooping posture, under the hazel bushes.

In a very few moments Joe reached the head of the ravine, but to his
astonishment and no little satisfaction, he beheld nothing but a
shelving rock, from under which a spring of clear smoking water
flowed, and a large bank of snow which had drifted around it, but
through which the gurgling stream had forced its way. Yet the mystery
was not solved. Ringwood and Jowler continued to growl and yelp still
more furiously, running round the embankment of snow repeatedly, and
ever and anon snuffing its icy surface.

"Whip me if I can figure out this," said Joe; "what in the world do
the dogs keep sticking their noses in that snow for? There can't be a
bear in it, surely. I've a notion to shoot into it. No I won't. I'll
do this, though," and drawing out his long knife he thrust it up to
the handle in the place which seemed the most to attract the hounds.

"Freeze me if it hasn't gone into something besides the snow!"
exclaimed he, conscious that the steel had penetrated some firm
substance below the frozen snow-crust. "What the deuce is it?" he
continued, pulling out the knife and examining it. "Ha! blood, by
jingo!" he cried, springing up; "but it can't be a living bear, or it
would have moved; and if it had moved, the stab would have killed it.
I _won't_ be afraid!" said he, again plunging his knife into it, "It
don't move yet--it must be dead--why, it's frozen. Pshaw! any thing
would freeze here, in less than an hour. I'll soon see what it is."
Saying this, he knelt down on the embankment, and commenced digging
the snow away with all his might. The dogs crouched down beside him,
growling and whining alternately, and otherwise exhibiting symptoms of
restlessness and distress.

"Be still, poor Ringwood, I'm coming to him; I see something dark, but
there's no hair on it. Ugh! hallo! Oh goodness! St. Peter! Ugh! ugh!
ugh!" cried he, springing up, his face as pale as the snow, his hair
standing upright, his chin fallen, and his eyes almost straining out
of their sockets. Without taking his gun, or putting on his hat, he
ran through the bushes like a frightened antelope, leaping over
ditches like a fox-chaser, tearing through opposing grape vines, and
not pausing until his course was suddenly arrested by Glenn, who
seized him by the skirt of the coat, and hurled him on his back beside