r,--showing that the call
of the first had brought others to the chase,--made her forget her
weakness, and, like a spirit, away she sped, once more, on the race
for life. The race, however, was an unequal one, and its fearful
termination was soon staring her in the face, as she heard the
ferocious creatures drawing near; when, to her relief, she saw ahead a
small, untenanted cabin. It was a shanty used by the woodsmen in the
winter while felling trees. The door was off its hinges; and, passing
swiftly in, in the agony of despair, she glanced around for a
hiding-place. But the room was equally open to the wolves as to
herself. Instantly, in a manner that seemed almost superhuman, she
passed up the side of the cabin to a beam laid for an upper floor, and
stood there, clinging, with her bony fingers to the wall, as
motionless as a marble statue, while the wolves, disappointed of their
prey, sat on the floor below, lapping their hungry jaws, and watching
her till dawn, where she was found by a party who had been searching
for her all night. She was speechless when rescued, and utterly
unable for a time to give any account of herself. Her first inquiry,
however, when she could remember what had happened, was for little
Bub.

"I guess," said one of the men, soothingly, "he has turned up all
right afore now."

But as she insisted on going to the minister's to ascertain if Bub was
safe, they assisted her there, where were assembled a number of women,
among whom was Mrs. Jones, anxious about the lost child, for no trace
of him had been discovered.

When Bub was so unceremoniously disrobed of his priestly garments by
Mrs. Smith's skinny hand, highly offended at so gross an invasion of
his rights and dignities, to console himself he determined to run home
and tell his mother of the outrage.

Now the "make of the land," back of the missionary's cabin, was much
like that near his father's, and therefore he took his way in that
direction, instead of the one Mrs. Smith had surmised. He had taken
quite a walk when he saw the stream that divided the minister's lot.
Remembering that there was a river back of his mother's cabin, he
concluded that his home was on the other side of the stream before
him. The cornstalks, too, left standing in the cleared ground
opposite, were in sight, and they resembled the corn that Tom had cut
and stacked. So he trudged up and down the bank to find a way to
cross, till he came to a tree which had be