ty laughing at the
futility of life and the effort of life. It was the Wild--the savage,
frozen-hearted Northern Wild!' Here, I say, is the Wild. And here is
the life of the Wild: 'Bill opened his mouth to speak, but changed his
mind. Instead, he pointed towards the wall of darkness that pressed
about them from every side. There was no suggestion of form in the
utter blackness; only could be seen a pair of eyes gleaming like live
coals. Henry indicated with his hand a second pair and a third. A
circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn about their camp. Now and again
a pair of eyes moved, or disappeared to appear again a moment later.'

What did it mean--those restless flashing eyes, like fireflies breaking
across the surface of the darkness? It simply meant that they were in
the Wild at night, and they were with the wild beasts. And what does
it mean, this vivid fragment from my Bible? It means that _He_ was in
the Wild at night, night after night for forty nights, and _He_ was
with the wild beasts. He heard the roar of the lion as it awoke the
echoes of the slumbering forest. He saw the hyena pass stealthily near
Him in the track of a timid deer, and watched the cheetah prowl through
the brushwood in pursuit of a young gazelle. He heard the squeal of
the hare as the crouching fox sprang out; and the flutter of the
partridge as the jackal seized its prey. He heard the slither of the
viper as it glided through the grass beside His head; and was startled
by the shrieking of the nightbirds, and the flapping of their wings, as
they whirled and swooped about Him. And He too saw the gleaming eyes
of the hungry wolves as they drew their fierce cordon around Him. For
He was out in the Wild for forty nights, and He was with the wild
beasts.

II

And yet He was unhurt! Now why was He unharmed those forty nights with
the scrub around Him alive with claws and talons and fangs? He was
with the wild beasts, Mark tells us, and yet no lion sprang upon Him;
no lone wolf slashed at Him with her frightful fangs; no serpent bit
Him.

'Henry,' said one of Jack London's heroes to the other, as they watched
the wolfish eyes flashing hither and thither in the darkness, 'it's an
awful misfortune to be out of ammunition!'

But _He_ was unarmed and unprotected! No blade was in His hand; no
ring of fire blazed round about Him to affright the prowling brutes.
And yet He was unharmed! Not a tooth nor a claw left scratch or