, and said in a quiet voice
to Shif'less Sol:

"Did you hear anything, Sol?"

"Nothin' but the wind an' the rain."

Henry knew that such would be the answer.

"I guess you didn't hear anything either, Henry," continued the
shiftless one, "'cause it looked to me that you wuz 'bout ez near sleep
ez a feller could be without bein' ackshooally so."

"I was drifting away," said Henry.

He was beginning to realize that he had a great power, or rather gift.
Paul was the sensitive, imaginative boy, seeing everything in brilliant
colors, a great builder of castles, not all of air, but Henry's gift
went deeper. It was the power to evoke the actual living picture of
the event that bad not yet occurred, something akin in its nature
to prophecy, based perhaps upon the wonderful power of observation,
inherited doubtless, from countless primitive ancestors. The finest
product of the wilderness, he saw in that wilderness many things that
others did not see, and unconsciously he drew his conclusions from
superior knowledge.

The song had ceased a full ten minutes, and then came another note, a
howl almost plaintive, but, nevertheless, weird and full of ferocity.
All knew it at once. They had heard the cry of wolves too often in their
lives, but this had an uncommon note like the yell of the Indian in
victory. Again the cry arose, nearer, haunting, and powerful. The five,
used to the darkness, could see one another's faces, and the look that
all gave was the same, full of understanding and repulsion.

"It has been a great day for the wolf in this valley," whispered Paul,
"and striking our trail they think they are going to find what they have
been finding in such plenty before."

"Yes," nodded Henry, "but do you remember that time when in the house
we took the place of the man, his wife and children, just before the
Indians came?"

"Yes," said Paul.

"We'll treat them wolves the same way," said Shif'less Sol.

"I'm glad of the chance," said Long Jim.

"Me, too," said Tom Ross.

The five rose up to sitting positions against the board wall, and
everyone held across his knees a long, slender barreled rifle, with the
muzzle pointing toward the forest. All accomplished marksmen, it would
only be a matter of a moment for the stock to leap to the shoulder, the
eye to glance down the barrel, the finger to pull the trigger, and the
unerring bullet to leap forth.

"Henry, you give the word as usual," said Shif'less Sol.

Henr