t suddenly the Bishop's heart stood still. Among all the other
noises of the chase he heard a sound which made him think--think--think.
It was the long-drawn howl of a wolf, a sad howl of fear and weariness
and pain. It spoke a language which he had almost forgotten. But hardly
had he time to think again and to remember, before down the village
street came a great gaunt figure, flying in long leaps from the
foremost dogs who were snapping at her heels. It was Ailbe's
wolf-mother.

He recognized her as soon as he saw her green eyes and the patch of
white on her right foreleg. And she recognized him, too,--how I cannot
say, for he had changed greatly since she last saw him, a naked little
sunbrowned boy. But at any rate, in his fine robes of purple and linen
and rich lace, with the mitre on his head and the crozier in his hand,
the wolf-mother knew her dear son. With a cry of joy she bounded up to
him and laid her head on his breast, as if she knew he would protect her
from the growling dogs and the fierce-eyed hunters. And the good Bishop
was true to her. For he drew his beautiful velvet cloak about her tired,
panting body, and laid his hand lovingly on her head. Then in the other
he held up his crook warningly to keep back the ferocious dogs.

"I will protect thee, old mother," he said tenderly. "When I was little
and young and feeble, thou didst nourish and cherish and protect me; and
now that thou art old and gray and weak, shall I not render the same
love and care to thee? None shall injure thee."

Then the hunters came tearing up on their foaming horses and stopped
short to find what the matter was. Some of them were angry and wanted
even now to kill the poor wolf, just as the dogs did who were prowling
about snarling with disappointment. But Ailbe would have none of it. He
forbade them to touch the wolf. And he was so powerful and wise and holy
that they dared not disobey him, but had to be content with seeing their
hunt spoiled and their prey taken out of their clutches.

But before the hunters and their dogs rode away, Saint Ailbe had
something more to say to them. And he bade all the curious townsfolk who
had gathered about him and the wolf to listen also. He repeated the
promise which he had made to the wolf, and warned every one thenceforth
not to hurt her or her children, either in the village, or in the woods,
or on the mountain. And turning to her once more he said:--

"See, mother, you need not fear. T