n shot and snare. The
very note of the howl suggested the idea of untiring, relentless speed;
and he suddenly remembered all the old delight of those long snow-shoe
runs he had been wont to take whenever it so pleased him--over the
crackling snow, beneath the black pine branches and the dazzling winter
stars. He laughed at himself for being so readily moved from his
contentment, and then he wondered--had he really been contented? Or
had the old unrest always been there, however much he might strive to
hide it even from himself?

Leaning back in his shadowy corner, he let his thoughts drift to his
old life, and to that little deserted cabin which had been home to him
for so many years. He imagined just how the roof would fall into
disrepair, and how the feathery snow would drift between the chinks of
the logs. He supposed that the little bold beasts of the woods would
inhabit it, and the grey squirrels store their nuts in the corners, and
the birds build under the eaves and on the window ledges. Soon the
woods would creep nearer and nearer, reclaiming the worthless fields
which had been wrested from them, and even filling up the natural
clearing with small bushes and thimble-berry vines. At last there
would remain nothing but a pile of mossy logs and a few struggling,
widely-dispersed sunflowers, to show where that poor home had been.
Remembering the pain and sorrow those walls had often held, he felt it
was the best end for them; yet he had an unreasonable tenderness
towards anything connected with the care-free, idle, roving life he had
loved, and for which he longed.

"A penny for your thoughts!" cried cheery Mrs. Collinson suddenly. And
when he shyly told her, in part, what they had been, she patted his
hand tenderly, and her eyes glistened.

"The lad's fretting for his father," she found opportunity of
whispering to her husband, a little later.

But Mr. Collinson was still doubtful. "I don't know, Mrs. C., I don't
know," and they were silent, as once more the howl of the wolf-pack
came faintly to their ears.

Meanwhile, Dick had retired again to a brown study in his corner.

On this peaceful Christmas night there was a tumult in his easy-going
mind which confused him sadly. Now he had time to think about it, he
knew that during the past few weeks he had not really been
contented--he had only been avoiding the consideration of his own
perplexities. But that avoidance was not always possible, and he