nally gave it up
and started away to get his share of the feast, Cabot's gaze followed
him closely.

All this time our lad was filled with vague terrors concerning White,
of whose fate he had not received the slightest intimation, as well as
of what might be in store for himself. Would he be carried to the
distant interior to become a slave in some filthy Indian village, or
would he be killed before they took their departure? Perhaps they
would simply leave him there to freeze and starve to death, or they
might amuse themselves by burning him at the stake. Did these far
northern Indians still do such things? He wondered, but could not
remember ever to have heard.

While considering these unpleasant possibilities, Cabot was also
suffering with cold, from the pain of his bonds, and from lying
motionless on the bed of rocks to which he had been carelessly flung.
But, with all his pain and his mental distress, he still glared at the
young savage who had so basely betrayed his kindness, and at length
Arsenic seemed to be uneasily aware of the steady gaze. He changed his
position several times, and his noisy hilarity was gradually succeeded
by a sullen silence. Suddenly he lifted his head and listened
apprehensively. His quick ear had caught an ominous note in the
distant, long-drawn howl of a wolf. He spoke of it to his comrades,
and several of them joined him in listening. It came again, a
blood-curdling yell, now so distinct that all heard it. They stopped
their feasting to consult in low tones and peer fearfully into the
surrounding blackness.

Cabot had also recognised the sound, but, uncanny as it was, he
wondered why the howl of a wolf should disturb a lot of Indians who
must know, even better than he, the cowardly nature of the beast, and
that there was no chance of his coming near a fire.

Even as these thoughts passed through his mind, the terrible cry was
uttered again--this time so close at hand that it was taken up and
repeated by a chorus of echoes from the nearby cliffs. The Indians
sprang to their feet in terror, while at the same moment an avalanche
of stones, gravel, and small boulders rushed down the face of the cliff
close to where Cabot lay. From it was evolved a monstrous shape that,
with unearthly howlings, leaped towards the frightened natives. As it
did so flashes of lightning, that seemed to dart from it, gleamed with
a dazzling radiance on their distorted faces. In another moment