instant use, he glanced
hurriedly about him, but, although the camp fire was throwing out a long
stream of light, no sign of an animal could be detected.

"I'm sure I heard something," he repeated, still wondering and looking
around in search of the cause. "Hello! there it goes again. It sounds as
if it were somewhere up in the air--it is in the air!"

The fire had been kindled against the face of a rock. This rock rose
perpendicularly a dozen feet above the ground below, where the fire was
burning, and where the lad was standing. As he looked up he saw the
gaunt figure of a large mountain wolf standing on the very edge of this,
looking down upon him, its lank jaws distended, its eyes glaring, and
its whole appearance that of a ferocious beast about to leap down upon
his head. The suggestion was so startling, that Ned uttered an
exclamation of terror, and leaped back several feet.

It must be that when a wild beast comes across a boy, he concludes that
even though he carries a gun there is nothing to be feared from him. The
grizzly bear had shown a sublime indifference to Ned's capacity, and his
life had paid the forfeit. And now, although the mountain wolf must have
seen him raise that rifle and point it as straight as the finger of fate
directly at him, he paid no attention to it whatever; but there he
stood, snarling and growling, and on the very point of leaping.

Suddenly there was a short, sharp crack, and it was all over with the
wolf. He must have gathered himself for a leap at that very moment; for
the bullet that bored his brittle skull through and through did not
prevent an outward bound. A faint yelp and the creature bounded full a
dozen feet directly out from the rock, and, owing to some curious quirp
of the muscles, turned a complete somerset, and would have landed
directly upon the head of Ned if he hadn't sprung to one side as the
carcass fell to the ground.

"That settles your case," remarked the boy, with the indifference of an
old hunter. "Now it's time to load up again."

This done he settled himself to watch and listen and play the part of
his own sentinel for the rest of the night. A faint moaning of the
night-wind was all that reached his ears. Once he fancied he heard the
report of a gun far away in the distance, but it was so faint that he
might have been mistaken. Then a cry, somewhat resembling that made by a
panther, was borne on the wind, but that, too, seemed to come from the
mountain