it of sport. Supply us with some fresh meat, too."

"What, eat wolf?"

"My dear Bel, I get so hungry that I would eat anything now. But they
may taste good. Wolf's a kind of dog; they eat dog in China, and I've
heard that the bargees do so on the Thames."

"What?"

"Don't you remember the chaff at Oxford--the fellows asking the bargees,
`Who ate puppy pie under Marlow Bridge?'"

"There it is again."

"Then I'll take the guns out of the cases if they come nearer. They'll
be able to walk up the snow slope right on to the roof."

But the sounds died away, and Dallas opened a tin and took out a couple
of pieces of roughly made damper, whose crust was plentifully marked
with wood ashes.

"I can't eat," said Abel.

"I can, and I'll set you an example. Sorry there is no Strasburg pie or
other delicacy to tempt you; and the cook is out, or she should grill
you some grouse."

Abel sat nursing his piece of unappetising bread, while Dallas rapidly
disposed of his, the smaller piece.

They had been sitting in silence for some time, with Dallas gazing
wistfully at his companion.

"Try and eat the damper, old fellow," he said. "You must have food."

"I can't, Dal. I say, how much gold is there in the hole?"

"I daresay there's five-and-twenty ounces."

"You must take it, and contrive to get away from here, Dal," said Abel
suddenly.

"And you?"

"Get back home again. She'll break her heart if she loses us both."

_Thud_!

There was a heavy blow at the rough door, and then another.

"Norton come to look us up," whispered Dallas.

"No; he would not knock like that," whispered back Abel--needlessly, for
the roar of the storm would have made the voices inaudible outside.

There was another blow on the door as if something had butted against
it, and then a scratching on the rough wood.

"A bear?" whispered Dallas, rising softly. "Be quiet. Bear's meat is
good, but a bear would not be out on a night like this."

There was another blow, and then a piteous, whining howl.

"A dog, by Jove!" cried Dallas. "Then his master must be in trouble in
the snow."

"Dal, it would be madness to go out in this storm. It means death."

Dallas did not reply, but lifted the blanket, from which a quantity of
fine snow dropped, and took down the great wooden bar which, hanging in
two rough mortices, formed its fastening.

As he drew the door inward a little, there was a rush of snow and wind,
and the fire roared