bushes
wave as they broke through the underbrush. She knew now that she was
pursued. Tired she was, too, and the boy grew heavier for every step
that she advanced. And yet if she made him walk, he might run away from
her. If he heard his father's voice, he would be certain to answer. Much
perplexed, she looked about her for a hiding-place.

For, as the men would be sure to overtake her, her only safety was in
hiding. With tottering knees she stumbled along, carrying the heavy
child, grabbing hold of the saplings for support, and yet scarcely
keeping from falling. The cold perspiration broke from her brow and a
strange faintness overcame her.

"You will have to walk, little Hans," she said, at last. "But if you run
away from me, dear, I shall lie down here and die."

Little Hans promised that he would not run away, and for five minutes
they walked up a stony path which looked like the abandoned bed of a
brook.

"You hurt my hand, mamma," whimpered the boy, "you squeeze so hard."

She would have answered, but just then she heard the voices of the
lumbermen scarcely fifty paces away. With a choking sensation and a
stitch in her side she pressed on, crying out in spirit for the hills to
hide her and the mountains to open their gates and receive her. Suddenly
she stood before a rocky wall some eighty or a hundred feet high. She
could go no farther. Her strength was utterly exhausted. There was a
big boulder lying at the base of the rock, and a spreading juniper half
covered it. Knowing that in another minute she would be discovered,
she flung herself down behind the boulder, though the juniper needles
scratched her face, and pulled little Hans down at her side. But,
strange to say, little Hans fell farther than she had calculated, and
utterly-vanished from sight. She heard a muffled cry, and reaching her
hand in the direction where he had fallen, caught hold of his arm. A
strong, wild smell beat against her, and little Hans, as he was pulled
out, was enveloped in a most unpleasant odor. But odor or no odor, here
was the very hiding-place she had been seeking. A deserted wolf's den,
it was, probably--at least she hoped it was deserted; for if it was not,
she might be confronted with even uglier customers than the lumbermen.
But she had no time for debating the question, for she saw the head of
Stubby Mons emerging from the leaves, and immediately behind him came
Stuttering Peter, with his long boat-hook. Quick as a flash