ng a burning brand, we advanced towards the wolves, and,
waving our torches, raised a loud shout. The brutes hearing the noise
and seeing us coming, took to flight, disappearing in the depths of the
forest. Where the body of the bear had been, part of the skull, and a
few of the larger bones alone remained, while most of the wolves had
also been torn to pieces and the whole ground round was strewn with the
fragments and moist with gore. Disgusted by the sight, we hurried back
to our camp.

"We shall get some rest now, I hope, for I don't think the wolves will
come near us," said Dan.

"Not so sure about that," observed the Dominie; "however, we will try
and obtain some sleep."

Before our eyes were closed the horrible chorus of howls and yelps and
barking recommenced, and continued apparently on every side of our camp;
still, while the fire burned brightly, there was no fear of the brutes
rushing in on us. To sleep, while those dismal howls broke the
stillness of night, was simply impossible. Now the creatures appeared
to be coming nearer, now they retreated, now they seemed on this side,
now on that; their voices had summoned a fresh pack, who, rushing in,
quickly devoured the remainder of the feast. All night long the tumult
was kept up. Occasionally Mr Tidey or I rose to attend to the fire.
Upon each occasion I caught sight of numerous glaring eyes staring out
at us from amid the darkness. As morning approached the sounds
gradually ceased, and we had the satisfaction of believing that the
wolves had retreated to the recesses of the forest. I immediately fell
asleep, and when Mr Tidey roused Dan and me, the sun was already
several degrees above the horizon. We breakfasted on some bear-steak,
which we had fortunately secured, then set to work to scrape the skin
and to pack it up in a tight compass. As we had no wish to carry the
skin further than we could help, we put about and steered a course for
home, which we calculated it would take us four days to reach. Nothing
occurred worth narrating for the next three days.

We had still a march of about twenty-five miles to accomplish, and were
looking for a convenient spot to camp in near a stream bordered by a
wood, when we heard a low moan, which seemed to proceed from no great
distance off.

"That's a human voice," observed Mr Tidey; "some poor fellow wounded by
the Indians, or who perhaps has been injured by some other means."

We hunted about, being