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 walking at a very fast gait, and Natty swung the end of his rifle round, pointing through the bushes, and replied—

"There lays one. How do you like such meat?"

"This!" exclaimed Hiram, "why this is Judge Temple's dog Brave. Take kear, Leather-stocking, and don't make an inimy of the Judge. I hope you haven't harmed the animal?"

"Look for yourself, Mr. Doolittle," said Natty, drawing his knife from his girdle, and wiping it, in a knowing manner, once or twice across his garment of buck-skin; "does his throat look as if I had cut it with this knife?"

"It is dreadfully tore! it's an awful wownd—no knife never did this deed. Who could have done it?"

"That painter behind you, Squire-look, there's two of them."

"Painters!" echoed Hiram, whirling on his heel, with an agility that would have done credit to a dancing master; "where's a painter?"

"Be easy, man." said Natty; "there's two of the vinimous things; but the dog finished one, and I have fastened the other's jaws for her; so you needn't look so skeared, Squire; they won't hurt you."

"And where's the deer?" cried Hiram, staring about him with a bewildered air.

"Anan! deer!" repeated Natty.

"Sartain, an't there ven'son here, or didn't you kill a buck?"

"What! when the law forbids the thing, Squire!" said the old hunter. "I hope there's no law ag'in killing the painters."

"No; there's a bounty on the scalps-but-will your dogs hunt painters, Natty?"