“I see him yet—­another has joined him—­there they go—­dying, dying, dying in the distance—­there! they are gone!”

And Verty turned to his companion.

“I always liked pigeons and doves,” he said, “but doves the best; I never shoot them now.”

“I love them, too.”

“They are so pretty!”

“Oh, yes!” said Redbud; “and they coo so sweetly.  Did you never hear them in the woods, Verty—­moaning in their nests?”

“Often—­very often, Reddie.”

“Then the dove was the bird sent out of the ark, you know.”

“Yes,” said Verty, “and came back with the olive branch.  I love to read that.”

“What a long, weary flight the poor bird must have had!”

“And how tired it must have been.”

“But God sustained it.”

“I know,” said Verty; “I wish I had been there when it flew back.  How the children—­if there were any children—­must have smoothed its wings, and petted it, and clapped their hands at the sight of the olive branch!”

The simple Verty laughed, as he thought of the glee of the little ark-children—­“if there were any.”

“There are no olives here,” he said, when they had gone a little further; “but just look at that hickory!  It’s growing as yellow as a buttercup.”

“Yes, and see the maples!”

“Poor fellows!” said Verty.

“Why pity them?

“I always did; see how they are burning away.  And the chestnuts—­oh!  I think we will get some chestnuts:  here is a tree—­and we are at the top of the hill.”

Verty thereupon let go Redbud’s arm, and busied himself in gathering a pile of the chestnuts which had fallen.  This ceremony was attentively watched by Longears, who, lying with his front paws stretched out straight, his head bent knowingly on one side, and an expression of thoughtful dignity upon his countenance, seemed to be revelling in the calm delights of a good conscience and a mild digestion.

Fanny and her cavalier came up just as Verty had collected a pile of the chestnuts, and prepared some stones for the purpose of mashing them out.

The party thereupon, with much laughter, betook themselves to the task, talking gaily, and admiring the landscape as they munched—­for even young ladies munch—­the chestnuts.

One accident only happened, and that was not of an important nature.  Longears, full of curiosity, like most intellectual characters, had approached very near Verty as he was mashing the chestnuts upon the stone selected for the purpose, and even in the excess of his interest, had protruded his nose in the vicinity of the young man’s left hand, which held the nuts, while he prepared to strike it with the mass of limestone which he held in his right.

It chanced that Verty was talking to Fanny when Longears made this demonstration of curiosity, and did not observe him.

Longears sniffed.