gs too, this last half-hour. And you offered
me your wine-flask . . . Ulrich von Gradwitz, I will be your friend."

For a space both men were silent, turning over in their minds the
wonderful changes that this dramatic reconciliation would bring about. In
the cold, gloomy forest, with the wind tearing in fitful gusts through
the naked branches and whistling round the tree-trunks, they lay and
waited for the help that would now bring release and succour to both
parties. And each prayed a private prayer that his men might be the
first to arrive, so that he might be the first to show honourable
attention to the enemy that had become a friend.

Presently, as the wind dropped for a moment, Ulrich broke silence.

"Let's shout for help," he said; he said; "in this lull our voices may
carry a little way."

"They won't carry far through the trees and undergrowth," said Georg,
"but we can try. Together, then."

The two raised their voices in a prolonged hunting call.

"Together again," said Ulrich a few minutes later, after listening in
vain for an answering halloo.

"I heard nothing but the pestilential wind," said Georg hoarsely.

There was silence again for some minutes, and then Ulrich gave a joyful
cry.

"I can see figures coming through the wood. They are following in the
way I came down the hillside."

Both men raised their voices in as loud a shout as they could muster.

"They hear us! They've stopped. Now they see us. They're running down
the hill towards us," cried Ulrich.

"How many of them are there?" asked Georg.

"I can't see distinctly," said Ulrich; "nine or ten,"

"Then they are yours," said Georg; "I had only seven out with me."

"They are making all the speed they can, brave lads," said Ulrich gladly.

"Are they your men?" asked Georg. "Are they your men?" he repeated
impatiently as Ulrich did not answer.

"No," said Ulrich with a laugh, the idiotic chattering laugh of a man
unstrung with hideous fear.

"Who are they?" asked Georg quickly, straining his eyes to see what the
other would gladly not have seen.

"_Wolves_."

QUAIL SEED

"The outlook is not encouraging for us smaller businesses," said Mr.
Scarrick to the artist and his sister, who had taken rooms over his
suburban grocery store. "These big concerns are offering all sorts of
attractions to the shopping public which we couldn't afford to imitate,
even on a small scale--reading-rooms and play-rooms and gramo