still on--glancing over my shoulder, what did I espy but two
fiery eyes gleaming through the darkness, as did poor hapless William,
and the rush of some eager animal bent on prey, which would not be
driven back, came distinct and clear. I did not tell Jemmy what my
startled eyes beheld, but hurried him on, on--whither?

Now came the pant, pant of the creature's breath, and now--as in the
story of little William--there stretched before us a stream of water.
What could we do?

I glanced behind me as we halted by the river in front, into which we
had well-nigh rushed.

Ah! those burning eyes were upon us, so to speak, the creature's breath
fanned my cheek. Now his paws were on my shoulders to tear me down. I
shrieked as to some unknown hand to save me, and Jemmy belaboured him
with a stick he caught up in desperation. But the beast did not bite me,
only whined out his joy, and licked my face. It was Ben, Uncle John's
old dog Ben; and oh, joy! there was Uncle John himself bearing down upon
us, like some giant in the gloom.

"Well, you youngsters, what have you to say for yourselves to Ben and
me?" so he questioned, as we clung tightly to him, each holding a hand.

"Uncle," said I, after I had kissed the dear old dog, and Jemmy had
caressed him, "uncle, did you hear anything growling all about? We did,
and thought 'twas wolves, same as little William heard."

"No, Nell, I heard no sound of wolves--how could I when there are no
wolves to hear? That was the wind you heard, little one," was the reply.

"And we saw great monsters that crawled, and crept, and frightened us
ever so much," I told him, with a quaver in my voice.

"That was the mist wreathing and curling, which your frightened little
hearts made monsters of. But come, you've not answered my question--what
have you to say to Mr. Ben and me for leading us this long dance?"

"It was a bird's fault, uncle," said I, true to my sex in making my
excuse, "a dear, lovely bird, which flew away in here, and we followed
it, and so--and so we forgot and were lost."

"Ah! children," said Uncle John, as he led us home, one on either side
of him, I wearing uncle's pocket-handkerchief on my head, knotted into
something like a turban, Ben trotting on before--"Ah, children, little
feet shouldn't wander far from home; little heads shouldn't think
themselves overwise; and little things like pretty birds shouldn't make
small people forget their uncle's command to be home before