He held out his hand, but Ben either failed to see it or was unwilling that his brother should go ahead alone; he still followed closely--more quietly though, more careful of his steps--when Reuben reached the beginning of the slope. The thing could not be more than thirty feet away, a living blot of long shadow on the trampled white. The slope ran steeply down. At the bottom, a flat expanse to the right must be the northern end of a pond or lake, frozen, snow-covered. The sled-tracks, plain in moon-shadow, skirted that level surface and disappeared in thicker woods beyond. On Reuben's left, all the way down the slope and connecting with the farther woods, hemlocks loomed densely black, branches bowing to the ground. The thing gazed up across the wild turkey between its paws, and Reuben understood the sound--crunch of monstrous teeth on frail bone. Ben drew his knife and pushed in front muttering: "He won't attack, Ru. They're timid--Jesse alway said...." The panther had flattened in alarm and readiness, all motionless but for a quiver at the tip of the tail. Round ears spread back on a skull smooth and cruel as the head of a snake, and moonlight greenly sparked from eyes arrogant with the majesty of loneliness. Once or twice the angry head dipped as if meaning to snatch up the meat and save it from the human threat; the motions were abortive, the beast preferring to freeze, and watch, and wait. Reuben yielded no time to the weakening pain of anticipation. He scooped a handful of damp snow into a ball, swung on his heel in the fine free motion that Ben himself had taught him, and let fly. The snowball hit the great face on the nose, spattering wonderfully. Unbelieving, Reuben watched a grayish blur shoot away to the black shelter of the hemlocks, belly to earth. A violent tremor of reaction took hold of Reuben; he heard Ben gasp. "Ru--Ru--oh, _man_, how he scooned off!" Ben sat down laughing helplessly in the snow. "Ay," said Reuben, shaken and panting and full of pride. "I allow, Mr. Cory, he might travel some little time, Mr. Cory." The tremor was overcome by the swift joyous action of running down the slope to bring back the remains of the turkey. "See, Ben--he's left us both legs and some of the back and breast." "Poor puss! My own little brother, a man who'd steal from a----" "Snow down your backside!" said Reuben, and jumped for him. Ben caught him fairly and pulled him off his feet, but in the mimic struggle Ben stiffened suddenly and groaned: "Ru--help me up!" Before Reuben could do so, Ben was on his feet without help, denying his own words: "It's nothing, Ru--I got a little dizzy, nothing more." "Ben, if you----" "We can't go back.... Hoy, here's a thought! All that turkey blood on the snow--couldn't we make it seem----"