'Hand me my gun, and take the reins, Metski,' cried Father Cassimer.
'Drive for your life!' he added in an under tone; but every one in the
sledge heard him. Heaven knows how many we killed; but it seemed of no
use. Our pork was swallowed, straw and all. The creatures were
pressing upon us on every side, as if trying to surround the sledge;
and it was fearful to see the leaps that some gray old fellows among
them would take at Metski and the horses. Our driver did his part like
a man, making a thousand winds and turns through the woods; but still
the wolves pursued us. Fortunately, the firing kept them off, and,
thanks to our noble horses, they were never able to get ahead of us;
but as far as we could see behind us in the moonlight, came the
howling packs, as if rising from the ground of the forest. We had seen
nothing like it, and all did their best in firing, especially Count
Theodore; but his shots had little effect, for his hand shook, and I
know not if any but myself saw the looks of terrified intelligence
which he exchanged with his sister. Still, she and the Lady Constanza
kept up their courage, though the young cousins were as white as snow,
and our ammunition was fast decreasing.

'Yonder is a light,' said Constanza at last, as the poor horses became
unmanageable from fright and weariness. 'It is from the cottage of old
Wenzel, the woodman.'

'If we could reach that,' said Father Cassimer, 'and leave the horses
to their fate: it is our only chance.'

No one contradicted the priest's arrangement, for his last words were
felt to be true--though a pang passed over Constanza's face at the
thought of leaving our brave and faithful horses to the wolves: but
louder rose the howls behind us, as Metski urged on with all his