could drag the waggon, to continue on all
night.

"Do you think it likely that the wolves, when they have finished their
horrible feast, will track us out?" I said to Uncle Mark.

"I hope not," he answered. "Were they starving, they might do so; but
only the younger animals, which would have been prevented by their
elders from joining in the feast, may possibly follow us. If they do,
we can keep them at a distance, for they are more easily frightened than
the older brutes."

The stars, as on the previous night, were very bright, and we were able,
by them, to keep a direct course. Our chief desire now was to rejoin
our friends, and next to that to find water. We, of course, as we moved
along, kept a strict watch, as before; but the scene I had witnessed
made me feel much more anxious than usual, and every moment I expected
to see a band of Indians start up from behind the rocks which here and
there rose above the plain, or to hear a flight of arrows whistling
through the air past our ears--perhaps to feel one sticking in my body.

Uncle Stephen had advised Aunt Hannah and Lily to lie down in a space
left vacant for them in the middle of the waggon, where they would be
protected by the luggage piled up on both sides.

We had now gone on many hours without water, and our cattle began to
show signs of being very thirsty. All we could do was to wet their
muzzles with a little of the water we had brought with us; but our lives
might depend upon our pushing on.

As we generally marched apart--two of us on either side of the waggon--
we had no opportunities for conversation, and were left, consequently,
to our own melancholy thoughts. Had I been by myself, or with male
companions only, I should not have cared so much; but my mind was
troubled by the idea of what might be dear Lily's fate, and that of Aunt
Hannah, should we be attacked, or should our cattle break down and we be
unable to proceed.

The oxen went slower and slower, notwithstanding every effort of Uncle
Stephen to make them move at their usual pace. At last they came to a
stand-still. Mike and Quambo, who at the time were ahead, endeavoured
in vain to induce them to move on. Uncle Mark and I ran forward to
assist them. As I was about to do so I caught sight of a ruddy spot in
the distance, away somewhat to the left. That must be a fire, I
thought, and I pointed it out to Uncle Mark.

"It may be the camp-fire of our friends," he observed; "but