figures plainly. It lacked a few minutes of nine.

"And yonder is the mouth of Wild Man's Creek," said Fred; "we have
made pretty good speed."

"Nothing to boast of," replied Jennie; "if it were not for fear of
distressing mother, I would insist that we go ten or fifteen miles
further before turning back."

Since plenty of time was at command, they continued their easy pace,
passing over several long and comparatively straight stretches of
frozen water, around sharp bends, beyond another expansion of the
stream, in front of a couple of natural openings, and finally, while
it lacked considerable of ten o'clock, they rounded to in front of
a mass of gray towering rocks on the right bank of the stream, and,
skating close into shore, sat down on a bowlder which obtruded several
feet above the ice.

They were at the extremity of their excursion. These collective rocks
bore the name of Wolf Glen, the legend being that at some time in the
past a horde of wolves made their headquarters there, and, when the
winters were unusually severe, held the surrounding country in
what might be called a reign of terror. They had not yet wholly
disappeared, but little fear of them was felt.

The friends could not be called tired, though, after skating fifteen
miles, the rest on the stone was grateful.

They sat for half an hour chatting, laughing, and as merry as when
they started from home. The sky was still unclouded, but the moon had