d self devotion,
hurried forward, fearless of danger, bounding through thicket and
underwood, until, arriving upon a small clearing, the whole scene
flashed upon him.

A huge grey wolf, wounded and bleeding, was about to rush for the second
time upon a youth in hunting costume, whose broken spear, broken in the
first encounter with the beast he had disturbed, seemed to deprive him
of all chance of success in the desperate encounter evidently impending.
His trembling limbs showed his extreme apprehension, and the sweat stood
in huge drops on his forehead; his eyes were fixed upon the beast as if
he were fascinated, while the shaft of his spear, presented feebly
against the coming onslaught, showed that he had lost his self
possession, for he neglected the bow and arrows which were slung at his
side--if indeed there was time to use them.

The beast sprang, but as he did so another spear was stoutly presented
to meet him, and he literally impaled himself in his eager spring on the
weapon of Elfric.

Still, such was his weight that the boy fell backward beneath the mighty
rush, and such the tenacity of life that, though desperately wounded,
even to death, the beast sought the prostrate lad with teeth and claws,
in frantic fury, until a blow from the hunting knife, which Elfric well
knew how to use, laid the wolf lifeless at his side.

Breathless, but not severely injured, he rose from the ground covered
with blood; his garments torn, his face reddened by exertion, and paused
a moment, while he seemed to strive to repress the wild beatings of his
heart, which bounded as if it would burst its prison.

But far more exhausted was the other combatant, yet scarcely so much by
exertion as by fear, of which he still bore the evident traces. After a
few moments he broke the silence, and his words seemed incoherent.

"Where is my horse? the beast threw me--I wish the wolves may get him
--I fear you are hurt; not much, I hope; where can those serfs be? Fine
vassals, to desert their master in peril. I'll have them hung. But, by
St. Cuthbert, you are all covered with blood."

"'Tis that of the wolf, then, for I have scarcely a scratch: one of the
beast's claws ripped up my sleeve, and the skin with it; that was all he
could do before he felt the cold steel between his ribs."

"Not a moment too soon, or he would have killed you before we could
interfere; why, as you rolled together, I could hardly see which was boy
and which was