Year: 1875

the cold shlverS cours1ng over his body,
and almost froze the blood in his veins.
The wolves heard his successful imita-
ton of their music, and were coming in
full cry upon him.


In an instant he realized his position
and peril. From the sounds he knew
that the wolves were coming down on
either side of the path he had just travel
ed, therefore the nearest point of safety
was his own clearing, more than mile
away.


All this passed through his mind at
flash, and then, calling all his energies
into play, he dashed down the path with
scarcely less speed and terror than did
Uncle Tom Barry himself. Peter was a
famous runner, and had come off victor
in many trial of speed when the people
had come together at raising or log
rolling, but this was no holiday game.
He was not taxing his muscles to win the
applause of admiring friends or to
crafty an ambition to excel.


The race was for life.


Down the long slope that led to Pill
kin's Hollow, and up the ascent beyond,
fed Peter, while hardly hundred yards
behind came snarling pack, hungry and
fierce. The life of an unarmed man
would not be worth minutes purchase
could they once surround him. This
Peter acknowledged to himself, as a
thought entered his mind of standing on
the defensive; so he abandoned the
thought before it was fully formed, and
braced himself anew for flight.


Down another long slope, across
broad sheet of ice at its foot, and Leth-
erbee's Hill, with its long, steep ascent,
lay before him. He shuddered as he
glanced up its rugged side, for he felt
that his strength would hardly suffice to
carry him to the top. sThe perspiration
streamed from every pore, his breath
came in short, wheeling gasps, his steps
were becoming unsteady, and once,
striking his feet against loose stone, he
prevented himself from falling By an ex-
ertion so great that the blood sprrted
from his nostrils and flames seemed to
leap before his vision.


Still he kept on, though it seemed
madness to hope, for his pursuers had
gained ON him fearfully; he knew it by
the beating of their footsteps, but, with
energies inspired by mortal terror, he
ran on, hoping to gain only the brow of
the hill, for there the ground became
more open, and his own cabin was but
few yards beyond. He felt sure that his
pursuers would not follow him beyond
the summit, but could he reach it before
they would close upon him!


No, not by his own exertions, for just
as the thought passed through his mind,
his foot caught under gnarled root that
extended across the way, and he fell
heavily forward his head struck the
frozen ground, and he lay senseless.


When Peter recovered consciousness
he found himself hanging over the broad
shoulders of his brother John, and about
to enter his own door. Here he soon
collected his scattered senses, and was
able to listen inteligently to his brothers
account of his rescue.


Uncle Tom Barry, in his flight, had
stopped at the cabin long enough to
shout through the window that the
wolves were out, and hurried on. John,
who lived with his brother, knowing that
Peter must come the same path, took his
gun and walked out to the edge of the
forest, where he halted to listen. But a
short time elapsed before he heard the
sound of the pursued and pursuers, and
rushing down the hill, he arrived upon
the scene just in time to leap between
Peters PROSTATE form and the wolves, the
foremost of whom was less than ten feet
distant. Taking steady aim, he sent a
bullet into the creatures brain, and then,
while the pack were fighting over the
dead body of their comrade, he slung
Peter over his back, and gained the open
ground in safety.


Peter frankly told the whole truth
about the affair, from beginning to end,
and concluded the story with the en-
phatic assertion that as long as he lived
he would never be guilty of another
practical joke, vow he faithfully kept
until his dying day.