(_Concluded from page 391._)

When we reached Cronstadt Tom's ankle pained him a good deal; he had
skated five miles upon it, and the injured part was swollen.

'What about getting home?' I asked in some anxiety, but Tom declared
that after a couple of hour's rest at the inn in Cronstadt, where we
were stopping for a meal, his foot would be as well as ever it had been.
So it was, he said, when, at about two o'clock in the afternoon, we
started for home. But there was no life in his skating, and presently he
admitted that it hurt him badly. Two miles were covered with pain and
difficulty, and many stoppages. Matters began to grow somewhat serious;
at least, I thought so, though I said nothing of my fears. We were
sitting on the ice, Tom holding his ankle against it in hopes that the
cold would reduce the inflammation, when a sound in the distance caused
us both to raise our heads. Several black specks had suddenly appeared
upon the white ice-field behind us. Were they a party of skaters? Were
they----

'I say!' suddenly exclaimed Tom. 'Wolves!'

I am not ashamed to say that my heart sank when my companion pronounced
the black, moving spots in the distance to be wolves. I was afraid of
wolves, and always had been; I think most boys and girls generally are,
and I fancy that 'Little Red Riding Hood' is more or less to blame for
it, together with other tales in which these animals figure.

I was frightened, very frightened. My first impulse was to take to my
skates and fly like the wind before the coming terror. Then, like a jet
of cold water, came the thought of Tom's bad ankle. He had risen to his
feet, however, at sight of the wolves, and evidently meant to forget his
sprain.

'We had better be off, old chap,' he said. 'They are coming our way. We
can race them well enough on skates. It's nearer to Cronstadt than to
the half-way hut, but they could cut us off on our way to Cronstadt,
and, besides, there is all that horrible cat-ice near the harbour. Are
you ready? Skate steadily, then; no need to get done up.'

I said nothing about his ankle, trusting that the greater trouble might
possibly have driven away all recollection of the lesser, and for a mile
we skated evenly and rapidly forward. Occasionally we looked back over
our shoulders to see how we were holding our pursuers, for undoubtedly
we were being pursued. We seemed to hold our own fairly well; they had
gained upon us, no doubt, but not very much. At