fast. As soon as they had breakfasted they set out,
nevertheless, and proceeded at the same pace. McShane telling Joey, who
was, as well as himself, almost embedded in it before the day was half
over, that it was "better than rain, at all events;" to be sure that was
cold comfort, but any comfort is better than none. O'Donahue's request
for McShane to come inside was disregarded; he was as tough as little
Joey, at all events, and it would be a pity to interrupt the
conversation. About four o'clock they had changed their horses at a
small village, and were about three miles on their last stage, for that
day's journey, when they passed through a pine-forest.

"There's a nice place for an ambuscade, Joey, if there were any robbers
about here," observed McShane. "Murder and Irish! what's those chaps
running among the trees so fast, and keeping pace with us? I say,
Dimitri," continued McShane, pointing to them, "what are those?"

The courier looked in the direction pointed out, and as soon as he had
done so, spoke to the driver, who, casting his eyes hastily in the
direction, applied the lash to his horses, and set off with double
speed.

"Wolves, sir," replied the courier, who then pulled out his pistols, and
commenced loading them.

"Wolves!" said McShane, "and hungry enough, I'll warrant; but they don't
hope to make a meal of us, do they? At all events we will give them a
little fight for it. Come, Joey, I see that Dimitri don't like it, so
we must shake off the snow, and get our ammunition ready."

This was soon done; the guns were unstrapped from the back of the
coach-box, the pistols got from beneath their feet, and all were soon
ready, loaded and primed.

"It's lucky there's such a mist on the windows of the carriage, that the
lady can't see what we're after, or she'd be frightened, perhaps," said
Joey.

The rapid pace at which the driver had put his horses had for a time
left the wolves in the rear; but now they were seen following the
carriage at about a quarter of a mile distant, having quitted the forest
and taken to the road.

"Here they come, the devils! one, two, three--there are seven of them.
I suppose this is what they call a covey in these parts. Were you ever
wolf-hunting before, Joey?"

"I don't call this wolf-hunting," replied Joey; "I think the wolves are
hunting us."

"It's all the same, my little poacher--it's a hunt, at all events. They
are gaining on us fast; we shall soon com