ed the search. No red Indian, in
pursuit of friend or foe, ever followed up a trail with more intense
eagerness than poor Jarwin followed the track of his lost companion. He
even began to develop, in quite a surprising way, some of the deep
sagacity of the savage; for he came, before that day was over, not only
to distinguish the prints of Cuffy's paws on pretty hard sand, where the
impressions were very faint, but even on rough ground, where there were
no distinct marks at all--only such indications as were afforded by the
pressure of a dead leaf into soft ground, or the breaking of a fallen
twig!

Nevertheless, despite his care, anxiety, and diligence, Jarwin failed to
find his dog. He roamed all that day until his limbs were weary, and
shouted till his voice was hoarse, but only echoes answered him. At
last he sat down, overcome with fatigue and grief.

It had rained heavily during the latter part of the day and soaked him
to the skin, but he heeded it not. Towards evening the weather cleared
up little, but the sun descended to the horizon in a mass of black
clouds, which were gilded with [a] strange lurid light that presaged a
storm; while sea-birds flew overhead and shrieked in wild excitement, as
if they were alarmed at the prospect before them. But Jarwin observed
and cared for none of these things. He buried his face in his hands,
and sat for some time perfectly motionless.

While seated thus, a cold shiver passed through his frame once or twice,
and he felt unusually faint.

"Humph!" said he, the second time this occurred, "strange sort o'
feelin'. Never felt it before. No doubt it's in consikince o' goin'
without wittles all day. Well, well," he added, with a deep long-drawn
sigh, "who'd have thought I'd lose 'ee, Cuff, in this fashion. It's
foolish, no doubt, to take on like this, but I can't help it somehow. I
don't believe I could feel much worse if I had lost my old 'ooman. It's
kurious, but I feels awful lonesome without 'ee, my doggie."

He was interrupted by the shivering again, and was about to rise, when a
long low wail struck on his ear. He listened intently. No statue ever
sat more motionless on its pedestal than did Jarwin during the next
three minutes.

Again the wail rose, faint and low at first, then swelling out into a
prolonged loud cry, which, strange to say, seemed to be both distant and
near.

John Jarwin was not altogether free from superstition. His heart beat
har