A rough-furred, awkward creature, of the size of a small dog, fled
before him, as he entered the house in Brier Dale, and sought
refuge under a table. It was a young painter which Allen had
captured back in the deep woods, after killing its dam. Soon it
rushed across the floor, chasing a ball of yarn, but quickly got
under cover. Before the end of that day Trove and the new pet were
done with all distrust of each other. The big cat grew in size and
playful confidence. Often it stalked the young man with still foot
and lashing tail, leaping stealthily over chairs and, betimes,
landing upon Trove's back.
* * * * * *
It was a June day, and Trove was at Robin's Inn. A little before
noon Polly and he and the two boys started for Brier Dale. They
waded the flowering meadows in Pleasant Valley, crossed a great
pasture, and came under the forest roof. Their feet were muffled
in new ferns. Their trail wavered up the side of a steep ridge,
and slanted off in long loops to the farther valley. There it
crossed a brook and, for a mile or more, followed the mossy banks.
On a ledge, mottled with rock velvet, by a waterfall, they sat down
to rest, and Polly opened the dinner basket.
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