Етюд у багряних тонах
The Avenging Angels.
Hewalkedforacoupleofmilesthroughoneravineafteranotherwithoutsuccess,thoughfromthemarksuponthebarkofthetrees,andotherindications,hejudgedthattherewerenumerousbearsinthevicinity. Atlast,aftertwoorthreehours’fruitlesssearch,hewasthinkingofturningbackindespair,whencastinghiseyesupwardshesawasightwhichsentathrillofpleasurethroughhisheart. Ontheedgeofajuttingpinnacle,threeorfourhundredfeetabovehim,therestoodacreaturesomewhatresemblingasheepinappearance,butarmedwithapairofgigantichorns. Thebig-horn—forsoitiscalled—wasacting,probably,asaguardianoveraflockwhichwereinvisibletothehunter; butfortunatelyitwasheadingintheoppositedirection,andhadnotperceivedhim. Lyingonhisface,herestedhisrifleuponarock,andtookalongandsteadyaimbeforedrawingthetrigger. Theanimalsprangintotheair,totteredforamomentupontheedgeoftheprecipice,andthencamecrashingdownintothevalleybeneath.
Thecreaturewastoounwieldytolift,sothehuntercontentedhimselfwithcuttingawayonehaunchandpartoftheflank. Withthistrophyoverhisshoulder,hehastenedtoretracehissteps,fortheeveningwasalreadydrawingin. Hehadhardlystarted,however,beforeherealizedthedifficultywhichfacedhim. Inhiseagernesshehadwanderedfarpasttheravineswhichwereknowntohim,anditwasnoeasymattertopickoutthepathwhichhehadtaken.
