ite of
his size and appetite, rushed out of the hut and disappeared in the
wood.

The afternoon shadows were beginning to lengthen when Grace fastened the
latch and returned to the fire where her three friends sat silent,
afraid to speak for fear of giving way to tears.

CHAPTER XX

THE GRAY BROTHERS

The four girls never knew how long they waited that afternoon in the
hunter's cabin. It might have been only minutes, but the minutes seemed
to drag themselves into hours. The uncertain fate of the boys, the
tragedy that surely awaited perhaps all of them made the situation
almost unbearable.

Grace piled the fireplace high with the remaining wood, but the blaze
could not keep away the chill that crept over them as the sun sank
behind the trees. They shivered and drew nearer together for comfort.

Should they ever see their four brave friends again?

And David?

Anne could endure it no longer. She rose and began to move about the
hut. There lay her coat and hat. Almost without knowing what she did she
put them on, pulled on her mittens and tied a broad, knitted muffler
around her ears.

"Girls," she said suddenly. She had gone about her preparations so
quietly the other three had not even turned to see what she was doing.
"I'm going. I don't want any of you to go with me, but I would rather
die than stay here all night without knowing what has happened to David
and the others."

"Wait a moment," cried Grace, "and I'll go, too. It would be unbearable
not to know--and if we meet the wolves, why, then, as Tom said, we can
climb a tree. Poor Tom!" she added sadly. "I wonder where he is now."

Nora and Jessica rose hastily.

"Do you think I'd stay?" cried Nora. "Not in a thousand years!"

"Anything is better than this," exclaimed Jessica, as she drew on her
wraps and prepared to follow her friends into the woods.

Grace opened the door, peering out into the gathering darkness.

"There is not a living thing in sight," she said. "We'd better hurry,
girls; it will soon be dark." Then the four young girls started down the
trail and were soon out of sight.

When Tom Gray left old Jean's hut, with nothing between him and the
ravenous wolves, except the angle of a wall, he took a long, gliding
step, his body swinging gracefully with the motion, and was off like the
wind, under a broad avenue of trees. But he had not gone far before one
of the straps loosened and his foot slipped. He fell headlong, but was