“Be still, poor Ringwood, I’m coming to him; I see something dark, but there’s no hair on it. Ugh! hallo! Oh goodness! St. Peter! Ugh! ugh! ugh!” cried he, springing up, his face as pale as the snow, his hair standing upright, his chin fallen, and his eyes almost straining out of their sockets. Without taking his gun, or putting on his hat, he ran through the bushes like a frightened antelope, leaping over ditches like a fox-chaser, tearing through opposing grape vines, and not pausing until his course was suddenly arrested by Glenn, who seized him by the skirt of the coat, and hurled him on his back beside the sled on which the deer was bound. “What is the matter?” demanded Glenn. Joe panted painfully, and was unable to answer. “What ails you, I say?” repeated Glenn in a loud voice. “Peter”—panted Joe. “Do you mean the pony?” “St. Peter!” ejaculated Joe. “Well, what of St. Peter?” “Oh, let me be off!” cried he, endeavouring to scramble to his feet. But he was most effectually prevented. For no sooner had he turned over on his hands and knees, than Glenn leaped astride of him. “Now, if you _will_ go, you shall carry me on your back, and I will pelt the secret out of you with my heels, as we travel!” “Just let me get in the house and fasten the door, and I will tell you every word,” said Joe imploringly. “Tell me now, or you shall remain in the snow all day long!” said Glenn, with a hand grasping each side of Joe’s neck. “Oh, what shall I do? I can’t speak!” yelled Joe, trying outright, the large tear-drops falling from his nose and chin. “You have not lost your voice, I should say, at all events,” implied Glenn, somewhat touched with pity at his man’s unequivocal distress, though he could scarce restrain his laughter when he viewed his grotesque posture. “What has become of your musket and hat?” he added. “I left them both there,” said Joe, gradually becoming composed under the weight of his master. “Where?” asked Glenn. “At the cave-spring.” “Well, what made you leave them there?” “Just get off my back and I’ll tell you. I’m getting over it now; I’m going to be mad instead of frightened,” said Joe, with real composure. “Get up, then; but I won’t trust you yet. You must still suffer me to hold your collar,” said Glenn. “If you go to the cave-spring you will see a sight!” “What kind of a sight?” “Such a sight as I never dreamed of before!” “Then it has been nothing but a dream _this time_, after all your foolery?” “No, I’ll be shot if there was any dreaming about it,” replied Joe; and he related every thing up to the horrid discovery which caused him to retreat so precipitately, and then paused, as if dreading to revert to the subject. “What did you find there? Was it any thing that could injure you?” “No,” said Joe, shaking his head solemnly. “Why did you run, then?” demanded Glenn, impatiently.