make himself go any farther, but crowded up as close as
possible against the friendly trees and waited.

He had no idea, of course, what he was waiting for, unless he had some
dim expectation that his dead mother, or his owner, or the man on the
ferryboat would come and lead him home. His instinct taught him that the
dark of the wilderness held unknown perils for him, though his guarded
babyhood had afforded him no chance to learn by experience. Young as he
was, he took up the position which gave his peculiar weapons opportunity
for exercise. Instead of backing up against the trees and the rock, and
facing such foes as the dread dark might send upon him, he stood with
his back toward the danger and his formidable heels in readiness, while
over first one shoulder, then the other, his eyes and ears kept guard.
The situation was one that might well have cowed him completely; but the
blood in his baby veins was that of mettled ancestors, and terrified
though he was, and trembling, his fear did not conquer his spirit.

[Illustration: "THE BIG OWL HAD BEEN DISTURBED AT ITS BANQUET."]

Soon after he had taken his stand in this strange and desolate stabling,
from a little way back in the underbrush there came a pounce, a scuffle,
and a squeal, more scuffle, and then silence. He could not even guess
what was happening, but whatever it was, it was terrible to him. For
some moments there came, from the same spot, little, soft, ugly,
thickish sounds. These stopped abruptly. Immediately afterwards there
was a hurried beating of wings, and something floated over him. The big
owl had been disturbed at its banquet. A few seconds more and the
watcher's ears caught a patter of light footsteps approaching. Next he
saw a faint gleam of eyes, which seemed to scrutinize him steadily,
fearlessly, indifferently, for perhaps the greater part of a minute.
Then they vanished, with more patter of light footsteps; and as they
disappeared a wandering puff of night air brought to the colt's nostrils
a musky scent which he knew. It was the smell of a red fox, such as he
had seen once prowling around his owner's barn-yard. This smell, from
its associations, was comforting rather than otherwise, and he would
have been glad if the fox had stayed near.

For some time now there was stillness all about the big rock, the owl's
kill and the passing of the fox having put all the small wild creatures
on their guard. Little by little the colt was beginning to