at Dale had bound him
upon the wheel, and that his arms and legs were broken, and the woods
rang to his screams. Why, in that wakeful forest, they were unheard, or
why, if heard, they went unheeded, God only knows.

The moon went down, and it was very cold. How black were the shadows
around us, what foes might steal from that darkness upon us, it was not
worth while to consider. I do not know what I thought of on that night,
or even that I thought at all. Between my journeys for the water that he
called for I sat beside the dying man with my hand upon his breast, for
he was quieter so. Now and then I spoke to him, but he answered not.

Hours before we had heard the howling of wolves, and knew that some
ravenous pack was abroad. With the setting of the moon the noise had
ceased, and I thought that the brutes had pulled down the deer they
hunted, or else had gone with their hunger and their dismal voices out
of earshot. Suddenly the howling recommenced, at first faint and far
away, then nearer and nearer yet. Earlier in the evening the stream had
been between us, but now the wolves had crossed and were coming down our
side of the water, and were coming fast.

All the ground was strewn with dead wood, and near by was a growth of
low and brittle bushes. I gathered the withered branches, and broke
fagots from the bushes; then into the press of dark and stealthy forms I
threw a great crooked stick, shouting as I did so, and threatening with
my arms. They turned and fled, but presently they were back again. Again
I frightened them away, and again they returned. I had flint and steel
and tinder box; when I had scared them from us a third time, and they
had gone only a little way, I lit a splinter of pine, and with it fired
my heap of wood; then dragged Diccon into the light and sat down beside
him, with no longer any fear of the wolves, but with absolute confidence
in the quick appearance of less cowardly foes. There was wood enough and
to spare; when the fire sank low and the hungry eyes gleamed nearer, I
fed it again, and the flame leaped up and mocked the eyes.

No human enemy came upon us. The fire blazed and roared, and the man who
lay in its rosy glare raved on, crying out now and then at the top of
his voice; but on that night of all nights, of all years, light and
voice drew no savage band to put out the one and silence the other
forever.

Hours passed, and as it drew toward midnight Diccon sank into a stupor.
I kn