nel or watcher, stood
the gaunt-figured animal, and as she spoke, a long wild cry, the sound
of which seemed as if it came midway between the earth and the tops of
the tall pines on the lofty ridge above them, struck terror into their
hearts, as with speechless horror they gazed upon the dark outline
of the terrible beast. There it stood, with its head raised, its neck
stretched outward, and ears erect, as if to catch the echo that gave
back those dismal sounds; another minute and he was gone, and the
crushing of branches and the rush of many feet on the high bank above,
was followed by the prolonged cry of some poor fugitive animal,--a doe,
or fawn, perhaps,--in the very climax of mortal agony; and then the
lonely recesses of the forest took up that fearful death-cry, the
far-off shores of the lake and the distant islands prolonged it, and the
terrified children clung together in fear and trembling.

A few minutes over, and all was still. The chase had turned across the
hills to some distant ravine; the wolves were all gone--not even the
watcher was left, and the little valley lay once more in silence, with
all its dewy roses and sweet blossoms glittering in the moonlight;
but though around them all was peace and loveliness, it was long
ere confidence was restored to the hearts of the panic-stricken and
trembling children. They beheld a savage enemy in every mass of leafy
shade, and every rustling bough struck fresh terrors into their excited
minds. They might have exclaimed with the patriarch Jacob, "How dreadful
is this place!"

With hand clasped in hand, they sat them down among the thick covert of
the bushes, for now they feared to move forward, lest the wolves should
return; sleep was long a stranger to their watchful eyes, each fearing
to be the only one left awake, and long and painful was their vigil. Yet
nature, overtasked, at length gave way, and sleep came down upon their
eyelids; deep, unbroken sleep, which lasted till the broad sunlight
breaking through the leafy curtains of their forest-bed, and the sound
of waving boughs and twittering birds, once more wakened them to life
and light; recalling them from happy dreams of home and friends, to an
aching sense of loneliness and desolation. This day they did not wander
far from the valley, but took the precaution, as evening drew on, to
light a large fire, the blaze of which they thought would keep away any
beast of prey. They had no want of food, as the fish