Olénin was still behind him when the old man stopped and began examining a tree. A cock-pheasant on the tree clucked at the dog that was barking at it, and Olénin saw the pheasant; but at that moment a report, as of a cannon, came from Eróshka’s enormous gun, the bird fluttered up and, losing some feathers, fell to the ground. Coming up to the old man Olénin disturbed another, and raising his gun he aimed and fired. The pheasant flew swiftly up and then, catching at the branches as he fell, dropped like a stone to the ground. “Good man!” the old man (who could not hit a flying bird) shouted, laughing. Having picked up the pheasants they went on. Olénin, excited by the exercise and the praise, kept addressing remarks to the old man. “Stop! Come this way,” the old man interrupted. “I noticed the track of deer here yesterday.” After they had turned into the thicket and gone some three hundred paces they scrambled through into a glade overgrown with reeds and partly under water. Olénin failed to keep up with the old huntsman and presently Daddy Eróshka, some twenty paces in front, stooped down, nodding and beckoning with his arm. On coming up with him Olénin saw a man’s footprint to which the old man was pointing. “D’you see?” “Yes, well?” said Olénin, trying to speak as calmly as he could. “A man’s footstep!” Involuntarily a thought of Cooper’s _Pathfinder_ and of _abreks_ flashed through Olénin’s mind, but noticing the mysterious manner with which the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and remained in doubt whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear of danger or by the sport. “No, it’s my own footprint,” the old man said quietly, and pointed to some grass under which the track of an animal was just perceptible. The old man went on, and Olénin kept up with him. Descending to lower ground some twenty paces farther on they came upon a spreading pear-tree, under which, on the black earth, lay the fresh dung of some animal. The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy arbour, dark and cool. “He’s been here this morning,” said the old man with a sigh; “the lair is still damp, quite fresh.” Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces from where they stood. They both started and seized their guns, but they could see nothing and only heard the branches breaking. The rhythmical rapid thud of galloping was heard for a moment and then changed into a hollow rumble which resounded farther and farther off, re-echoing in wider and wider circles through the forest. Olénin felt as though something had snapped in his heart. He peered carefully but vainly into the green thicket and then turned to the old man. Daddy Eróshka with his gun pressed to his breast stood motionless; his cap was thrust backwards, his eyes gleamed with an unwonted glow, and his open mouth, with its worn yellow teeth, seemed to have stiffened in that position.