mories of
his punctuality.

"Mustn't be late the first morning," he thought, just as the young
rabbit poacher gave him a thrust back with his shoulder, and turning
sharply he darted among the trees, and began to run toward his new home.

"Yah! coward!" was yelled after him, and a lump of sandy iron-stone
struck him full in the back, making him wince; but he did not stop, only
dodged in and out among the pine-trees, taking what he believed to be
the right direction for the village. Then he ran faster, for he heard
his assailant's voice urging on the dog.

"Ciss! Fetch him, Bob!" and glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the
mongrel-looking brute was in full pursuit, snarling and uttering a low
bark from time to time.

Tom's first and natural instinct was to run faster, in the hope that the
dog would soon weary of the pursuit, and faster he did run, suffering
from an unpleasant feeling of fear, for it is by no means pleasant to
have a powerful, keen-toothed dog at your heels, one that has proved its
ability to bite, and evidently intending to repeat the performance.

Tom ran, and the dog ran, and the latter soon proved that four legs are
better for getting over the ground than two; for the next minute he was
close up, snapping at the boy's legs, leaping at his hands, and sending
him into a profuse perspiration.

"Ciss! fetch him down, boy!" came from a distance, and the dog responded
by a bark and a snap at Tom's leg, which nearly took effect as he ran
with all his might, and made him so desperate that he suddenly stopped
short as the dog made a fresh snap, struck against him, and then from
the effort rolled over and over on the ground.

Before it could gather itself up for a fresh attack Tom, in his
desperation, stooped down and picked up the nearest thing to him--to
wit, a good-sized fir-cone, which he hurled at the dog with all his
might. It was very light, and did not hit its mark, but the young
poacher's dog was a bad character, and must have known it. Certainly it
had had stones thrown at it before that morning, and evidently under the
impression that it was about to have its one eye knocked out or its head
split, it uttered a piercing whining cry, tucked its thin tail between
its legs, and began to run back toward its master as fast as it could
go, chased by another fir-cone, which struck the ground close by it, and
elicited another yelp.

Tom laughed, and at the same time felt annoyed with himself.