st. It was so
narrow that sometimes Tom had to clear away some underbrush before they
could go on. Or else he had to stop to cut down a tree that stood in
their way. Abe, who was big and strong for his age, had his own little
ax. He helped his father all he could.

Fourteen miles north of the river, they came to a cleared place in the
forest. Tom called it his "farm." He hastily put up a shelter--a camp
made of poles and brush and leaves--where they could stay until he had
time to build a cabin. It had only three walls. The fourth side was left
open, and in this open space Tom built a fire. The children helped their
mother to unpack, and she mixed batter for cornbread in a big iron
skillet. She cut up a squirrel that Tom had shot earlier in the day, and
cooked it over the campfire.

"Now if you will fetch me your plates," she said, "we'll have our
supper."

The plates were only slabs of bark. On each slab Nancy put a piece of
fried squirrel and a hunk of cornbread. The children sank down on one of
the bearskins to eat their first meal in their new home. By this time it
was quite dark. They could see only a few feet beyond the circle of
light made by their campfire.

Nancy shivered. She knew that they had neighbors. Tom had told her there
were seven other families living at Pigeon Creek. But the trees were so
tall, the night so black, that she had a strange feeling that they were
the only people alive for miles around.

"Don't you like it here, Mammy?" Abe asked. To him this camping out was
an adventure, but he wanted his mother to like it, too.

"I'm just feeling a little cold," she told him.

"I like it," said Sally decidedly. "But it is sort of scary. Are you
scared, Abe?"

"Me?" Abe stuck out his chest. "What is there to be scared of?"

At that moment a long-drawn-out howl came from the forest. Another
seemed to come from just beyond their campfire. Then another and
another--each howl louder and closer. The black curtain of the night
was pierced by two green spots of light. The children huddled against
their mother, but Tom Lincoln laughed.

"I reckon I know what you're scared of. A wolf."

"A wolf?" Sally shrieked.

"Yep. See its green eyes. But it won't come near our fire."

He got up and threw on another log. As the flames blazed higher, the
green lights disappeared. There was a crashing sound in the underbrush.

"Hear him running away? Cowardly varmint!" Tom sat down again. "No wolf
will hurt us