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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
128
It
was
slower
than
before,
but
still
it
came--"tramp,
tramp,
tramp."
Jack
awoke,
but
sat
still.
The
man
tramped
by
on
the
trail
one
hundred
yards
in
front
of
him,
and
as
he
went
on,
Jack
sprang
out
unseen,
realizing
that
this
was
an
unusual
occasion
needing
a
special
effort.
They
had
gone
in
a
vast
circle
around
the
home
range
of
the
Warhorse
and
now
were
less
than
a
mile
from
the
farm-house
of
the
black
Dog.
There
was
that
wonderful
board
fence
with
the
happily
planned
hen-hole.
It
was
a
place
of
good
memory--here
more
than
once
he
had
won,
here
especially
he
had
baffled
the
Greyhound.
These
doubtless
were
the
motive
thoughts
rather
than
any
plan
of
playing
one
enemy
against
another,
and
Warhorse
bounded
openly
across
the
snow
to
the
fence
of
the
big
black
Dog.
The
hen-hole
was
shut,
and
Warhorse,
not
a
little
puzzled,
sneaked
around
to
find
another,
without
success,
until,
around
the
front,
here
was
the
gate
wide
open,
and
inside
lying
on
some
boards
was
the
big
Dog,
fast
asleep.
The
Hens
were
sitting
hunched
up
in
the
warmest
corner
of
the
yard.
The
house
Cat
was
gingerly
picking
her
way
from
barn
to
kitchen,
as
Warhorse
halted
in
the
gateway.
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