ould give me no
satisfaction."

"A wolf-hunt?" cried the Commodore, "were you ever at a wolf-hunt; and
here in this country, Harry?"

"Indeed was I, and--"

"The story, then, the story; we must have it."

"Oh! as for story, there is not much--"

"The story! the story!" shouted Frank. "You may as well begin at once,
for we will have it."

"Oh! very well. All is one to me, but you will be tired enough of it
before I have got through, so here goes for: A WOLF HUNT ON THE WARWICK
HILLS," said Archer, and without more ado, spun his yarn as follows:

"There are few wilder regions within the compass of the United States,
much less in the vicinity of its most populous and cultivated districts,
than that long line of rocky wood-crowned heights which--at times rising
to an elevation and exhibiting a boldness of outline that justifies the
application to them of the term 'mountains', while at others they would
be more appropriately designated as hills or knolls--run all across the
Eastern and the Midland States, from the White Mountains westward to the
Alleghanies, between which mighty chains they form an intermediate and
continuous link.

"Through this stern barrier, all the great rivers of the States, through
which they run, have rent themselves a passage, exhibiting in every
instance the most sublime and boldest scenery, while many of the minor,
though still noble streams, come forth sparkling and bright and cold
from the clear lakes and lonely springs embosomed in its dark recesses.

"Possessing, for the most part, a width of eight or ten miles, this
chain of hills consists, at some points, of a single ridge, rude,
forest-clad and lonely--at others, of two, three, or even four distinct
and separate lines of heights, with valleys more or less highly
cultured, long sheets of most translucent water, and wild mountain
streams dividing them.

"With these hills--known as the Highlands--where the gigantic Hudson has
cloven, at some distant day, a devious path for his eternal and
resistless waters, and by a hundred other names, the Warwick Hills, the
Greenwoods, and yet farther west, the Blue Ridge and the Kittatinny
Mountains, as they trend southerly and west across New York and New
Jersey--with these hills I have now to do.

"Not as the temples meet for the lonely muse, fit habitations for the
poet's rich imaginings! not as they are most glorious in their natural
scenery--whether the youthful May is covering their rugge