he should find him off his
guard.

There was a natural bank of earth out on the plain about three or four
hundred yards off, with neither trees nor bushes near it. The bank was
not more than four feet high, and the top slightly overhung its base, so
that it afforded some slight protection from the sun. To this spot Dan
resolved to betake himself, and immediately began the journey--for a
journey it surely was, seeing that the hunter had to do it on hands and
knees, lifting his gun and pushing it before him, each yard or so, as he
went along. The inflammation of his wound rendered the process all the
slower and more painful, and a burning thirst, which he had no means of
slaking, added to his misery.

By the time he had passed over the short distance, he was so much
exhausted that he fell at the foot of the bank almost in a swoon.

Evidently the wolf imagined that its time had now come, for it sneaked
out of the wood when the hunter fell, and began cautiously to advance.
But Dan saw this, and, making a desperate effort, arose to a sitting
posture, leaned his back against the bank, and placed his gun across his
knees.

Seeing this, the wolf sat down on its haunches, and coolly began to bide
its time.

"Ha! you brute!" muttered Dan, "I could easily stop your mischief if my
strength wasn't all gone. As it is, I dare not give you my last shot
till you are so close that you can look down the barrel o' my gun."

From this point a watch of endurance began on both sides--the brute, of
course, unaware of the deadly weapon which its intended victim held, and
the man fully aware of the fact that if he should venture to lie down
and sleep, his doom would be sealed.

It is impossible for any one who has not had trial of similar
experiences to imagine the rush of thought and feeling that passed
through the brain and breast of Dan Davidson during the long dreary
hours of that terrible day. Sometimes he fell into a half-dreamy
condition, in which his mind leaped over forests and ocean to bonnie
Scotland, where his days of childhood were spent in glorious revelry on
her sunny banks and braes. At other times the memory of school-days
came strong upon him, when play and lessons, and palmies were all the
cares he had; or thoughts of Sabbaths spent with his mother--now in the
church, now in the fields, or at the cottage door learning Bible stories
and hearing words of wisdom and the story of the crucified One from her
lips. T