no doubt that his absence had been noticed or that the
most skillful trailers were in pursuit. They could not fail to learn
that he had taken to the stream and would naturally hunt along the shore
to discover where he had left it. This would be likely to bring them
very close to where he was hidden, and he trembled as he reflected upon
the possible, if not probable, result.

The sun was going down in the west; the shadows in the wood gradually
deepened; in his reclining position, Ned Chadmund found a heavy
drowsiness stealing over him. The afternoon was no more than half gone
when his eyes closed in a refreshing sleep, which continued several
hours, and might have lasted still longer had it not been broken. It was
far into the night when the sleeping lad suddenly opened his eyes
without understanding the cause of his doing so. Something had aroused
him, but he could not divine what it was. His posture had become
somewhat cramped from his long continuance in it and he shifted about so
as to rest upon the other side. As he did so, he became aware that some
one or something else was near him. The slightest possible rustling at
the base of the trunk directed his attention there, but there was too
much intervening shrubbery for him to detect anything at all. Everything
in that direction was shrouded in the densest gloom. The moon was
directly overhead, and shining so that he was able to see for some
little distance when he turned his glance from the trunk. Remembering
his revolver, the boy reached down and drew it from within his
waistcoat, where he had concealed it.

"If anybody wants to run against that, let him do so," he said to
himself. "It has five good charges which I will use up before they shall
lay hands upon me or Lone Wolf shall call me his prisoner again."

It seemed to him that, in case of discovery, his position might place
him at a great disadvantage, so he carefully drew his head and shoulders
out of the trunk, so as to leave his arms free to use. This was scarcely
done when he caught the same sound below him, repeated so distinctly
that he knew on the instant what it meant. It was a scratching, rattling
of bark, such as would be made by the claws of an animal in picking its
way along, and as he strained his eyes through the gloom, he saw very
faintly the outlines of some wild animal approaching him, a low,
threatening growl at the same time establishing the identity of the bear
beyond question.

Ned was