projecting headland of the valley, replied in mocking tones, "Come
quickly!"

Bewildered she paused, listened breathlessly and again she called,
"Father, come quickly, come!" and again the deceitful sounds were
repeated, "Quickly come!"

The faithful dog, who had succeeded in tracking the steps of his lost
mistress, raised his head and erected his ears, as she called on her
father's name; but he gave no joyful bark of recognition as he was wont
to do when he heard his master's step approaching. Still Catharine could
not but think that Wolfe had only hurried on before, and that her father
must be very near.

The sound of her voice had been heard by her brother and cousin, who,
fearing some evil beast had made its way to the wigwam, hastily wound up
their line, and left the fishing-ground to hurry to her assistance. They
could hardly believe their eyes when they saw Wolfe, faithful old Wolfe,
their earliest friend and playfellow, named by their father after the
gallant hero of Quebec. And they too, like Catharine, thought that their
friends were not far distant, and joyfully they climbed the hills and
shouted aloud, and Wolfe was coaxed and caressed, and besought to follow
them to point out the way they should take: but all their entreaties
were in vain; worn out with fatigue and long fasting, the poor old
dog refused to quit the embers of the fire, before which he stretched
himself, and the boys now noticed his gaunt frame and wasted flesh--he
looked almost starved. The fact now became evident that he was in a
state of great exhaustion. Catharine thought he eyed the spring with
wishful looks, and she soon supplied him with water in the bark dish, to
this great relief.

Wolfe had been out for several days with his master, who would repeat,
in tones of sad earnestness, to the faithful creature, "Lost, lost,
lost!" It was his custom to do so when the cattle strayed, and Wolfe
would travel in all directions till he found them, nor ceased his search
till he discovered the objects he was ordered to bring home. The last
night of the father's wanderings, when, sick and hopeless, he came back
to his melancholy home, as he sat sleeplessly rocking himself to and
fro, he involuntarily exclaimed, wringing his hands, "Lost, lost, lost!"
Wolfe heard what to him was an imperative command; he rose, and stood
at the door, and whined; mechanically his master rose, lifted the latch,
and again exclaimed in passionate tones those magic wo