good road, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose it is good enough," said Don, doubtfully, "but I
heard--"

"We will come out at our own clearing at the back, you know," Ranald
hurried to say, giving Don a kick. "Whist, man! She is set upon going."
At that moment away off toward the swamp, which they were avoiding, the
long, heart-chilling cry of a mother wolf quavered on the still night
air. In spite of herself, Mrs. Murray shivered, and the boys looked at
each other.

"There is only one," said Ranald in a low voice to Don, but they both
knew that where the she wolf is there is a pack not far off. "And we
will be through the bush in five minutes."

"Come, Ranald! Come away, you can talk to Don any time. Good night,
Don." And so saying she headed her pony toward the clearing and was off
at a gallop, and Ranald, shaking his head at his friend, ejaculated:

"Man alive! what do you think of that?" and was off after the pony.

Together they entered the bush. The road was well beaten and the horses
were keen to go, so that before many minutes were over they were half
through the bush. Ranald's spirits rose and he began to take some
interest in his companion's observations upon the beauty of the lights
and shadows falling across their path.

"Look at that very dark shadow from the spruce there, Ranald," she
cried, pointing to a deep, black turn in the road. For answer there came
from behind them the long, mournful hunting-cry of the wolf. He was on
their track. Immediately it was answered by a chorus of howls from
the bush on the swamp side, but still far away. There was no need of
command; the pony sprang forward with a snort and the colt followed, and
after a few minutes' running, passed her.

"Whow-oo-oo-oo-ow" rose the long cry of the pursuer, summoning help, and
drawing nearer.

"Wow-ee-wow," came the shorter, sharper answer from the swamp, but much
nearer than before and more in front. They were trying to head off their
prey.

Ranald tugged at his colt till he got him back with the pony.

"It is a good road," he said, quietly; "you can let the pony go. I will
follow you." He swung in behind the pony, who was now running for dear
life and snorting with terror at every jump.

"God preserve us!" said Ranald to himself. He had caught sight of a dark
form as it darted through the gleam of light in front.

"What did you say, Ranald?" The voice was quiet and clear.

"It is a great pony to run whatever," said Ranald,