“Why should not the sylvan gods”—­continued Glenn.

“Hush!  I’m going to fire!” said Joe.

“Why should they not resort hither,” said Glenn, unmindful of Joe, “where no meaner beings abide?”

Joe fired, and Glenn started in astonishment, as if he had had no intimation of his companion’s intention.

“Hang it all!  Isn’t he going to die, I wonder?” said Joe, after the buck had made one or two plunges in the snow, his sharp hoofs piercing through the crust on the surface, and with much struggling extricated himself and stood trembling, and looked imploringly at his foe.

“What in the world are you about?” exclaimed Glenn, casting a listless glance at the deer, and then staring his companion in the face.

“Whip me if there was any lead in the gun!” said Joe.  “I drew the bullets out yesterday, and forgot to put them in again.  But no matter—­he can’t run through the snow—­I’ll kill him with the butt of my musket.”

“Move not, at your peril!” said Glenn, authoritatively, when Joe was about to rush on the defenceless buck.

“I do believe you are out of your head!” said Joe, staring Glenn in the face, and glancing at the tempting prize, alternately.

“At such an hour—­in such an elysian place as this—­no blood shall be spilled.  It were profanity to discolor these pearly walks with clotted gore.”

“The deuce take the pearls, say I!” said Joe.

“Perhaps,” continued Glenn, “a god may have put on the semblance of a stag to tempt us.”

“And hang me, if I wouldn’t pretty soon spoil his physiognomy, if you would only say the word!” said Joe, shaking his head sullenly at the buck.

“Come,” said Glenn, sternly; and, leading the way, he passed within a few feet of the terrified animal without turning his head aside, and directed his steps down the valley towards the river.  Joe said nothing when opposite the buck, awed by the impressive tone and mysterious bearing of his master; but he grinned defiance at him, and resolved to embrace the first opportunity to steal out alone, and fully gratify his revenge; for such was the feeling he now harboured against the animal.

When they reached the margin of the river, they wandered along the narrow path that turned to the left, and continued up the stream, with the ice but a few feet distant on one hand, and the precipitous acclivity of rocks on the other.  They maintained a brisk pace for about thirty minutes, when the range of cliffs terminating abruptly, they entered a low flat forest.

“Now, what do you say to my firing?” exclaimed Joe, staring at an enormous wolf, a short distance on the left, that seemed to be tearing the flesh from the carcass of a deer.

“You must not fire,” replied Glenn, viewing the scene with no interest.

“Why not?  If the deer’s a sylvan god, the wolfs sure to be a black devil, and it’s a duty to take the god’s part,” said Joe.