duty. He continued circling about the camp-fire, silent, stealthy,
peering here and there, and listening for the first evidence of danger.
Nothing of the kind was seen or heard, and he finally came back to the
smouldering fire and looked at the face of his watch.

Could it be possible? It lacked a few minutes of three o'clock.
According to agreement, he should have called Hazletine an hour before.

"I don't suppose he will object," said Fred, aloud; "I'm sure I
shouldn't, if allowed to sleep an hour beyond my time----"

"I ain't doing any kicking, am I?"

Looking around, he saw the guide had flung aside his blanket and was
sitting erect, with a quizzical expression on his face.

"What made you fire your gun 'bout two hours ago?" he asked.

"Did you hear me?"

"How'd I know if I hadn't heard it?" was the pertinent question.

"A wolf was sneaking among the trees. I followed him out to the edge of
the timber and let him have it between the eyes."

"Did you hurt him?"

"Since he flopped over and died, I have reason to believe he _was_
hurt."

"Good! That's the style--always to shoot. Never waste your ammunition.
You didn't kill any Injins?"

"I saw none at all."

Hank looked at the unconscious figure of Jack Dudley.

"Wonder how it was with him?"

"He did not fire his gun at anything."

Fred did not wish to tell his friend about that alarming visit earlier
in the evening. That was Jack's concern.

"But he may have seed something. Howsumever, we can wait till morning.
Wal, younker, if you've no 'bjection you can lay down and snooze till
morning. I go on duty now."

There was vast comfort in this knowledge. It relieved the youth from the
last remnant of anxiety, and he lost no time in abandoning himself to
slumber. The man who was now acting as sentinel was a past master at the
art, and there need be no misgiving while he was on duty. Thus it came
about that neither Jack Dudley nor Fred Greenwood opened his eyes until
the sun was shining into the grove.

Each had had a refreshing night, but it cannot be said that their
awakening was of the most pleasant nature. The hunger that had been
twice satisfied the day before was not to be compared to that which now
got hold of them. With the insatiate craving was the knowledge that
there was not a scrap of meat, a crumb of bread nor a drop of milk in
camp.

"We can fill up on water," remarked Jack, after they had bathed faces
and hands and quaffed their fill