"What's the matter, Uncle Joe?" inquired Archie.
"Matter!" repeated the farmer; "why, some carnal varmint got into my
sheep-pen last night, and walked off with some of my mutton. Come," he
continued, as he slung on his bullet-pouch, "let's go and shoot him."
Frank and Archie were ready in a few minutes; and, after dropping a
couple of buck-shot into each barrel of their guns, followed the
farmer out to the sheep-pen. It was storming violently, and it was
with great difficulty that they could find the "varmint's" track.
After half an hour's search, however, with the assistance of the
farmer's dogs, they discovered it, and began to follow it up, the dogs
leading the way. But the snow had fallen so deep that it almost
covered the scent, and they frequently found themselves at fault.
After following the track for two hours, the dogs suddenly stopped at
a pile of hemlock-boughs, and began to whine and scratch as if they
had discovered something.
"Wal," said Uncle Joe, dropping his rifle into the hollow of his arm,
"the hounds have found some of the mutton, but the varmint has took
himself safe off.
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