hen Sterry again glanced at his watch it was a few minutes past ten.
They had rested longer than any one suspected.

"Mother won't look for us before midnight," remarked Fred, "and we can
easily make it in that time."

"She was so anxious," said the sister, who, despite her
light-heartedness, was more thoughtful than her brother, "that I would
like to please her by getting back sooner than she expects."

"We have only to keep up this pace to do it," said Monteith, "for we
have been resting fully a half hour--"

He paused abruptly. From some point in the wintry wilderness came a
dismal, resounding wail, apparently a mile distant.

"What is that?" asked Monteith, less accustomed to the Maine woods
than his companions.

"It is the cry of a wolf," replied Fred; "I have heard it many times
when hunting alone or with father."

"It isn't the most cheerful voice of the night," commented the young
Bostonian, who, as yet never dreamed of connecting it with any peril
to themselves. And then he sang:

Yes, the war whoop of the Indian may produce a pleasant thrill
When mellowed by the distance that one feels increasing still;
And the shrilling of the whistle from the engine's brazen snout
May have minor tones of music, though I never found it out.

The verse was hardly finished when the howl was repeated.

"It is hard to tell from what point it comes," observed Fred, "but I
think it is on the right shore as we go back."

"Do you imagine it is far from the river?" inquired Monteith.

"I think not, but I may be mistaken."

"I am quite sure Fred is right," said his sister; "and, more than
that, that particular wolf isn't a great way off. I wonder whether he
has scented our trail?"

Before any comment could be made upon this remark, a second, third,
fourth, and fully a half-dozen additional howls rang through the
forest arches. They came from the left shore, and apparently were
about as far off as the cry first heard.

"They are answers," said Fred, in a low voice, in which his companions
detected a slight tremor.

It was at this moment that the first fear thrilled all three. The
cries might mean nothing, but more likely they meant a good deal. The
wolf is one of the fiercest of American wild animals when suffering
from hunger, though a coward at other times, and a horde of them are
capable of attacking the most formidable denizens of the woods.

The fact that they were between the skaters and home, and at n