sink into night without experiencing anything like apprehension.

He was trudging on steadily, singing cheerfully as he walked, when a
sound came on the night-air that sent a shiver through the young
pedestrian's frame--the war-cry of the wolves. At first he hoped he was
not the object of pursuit; but the hideous uproar came nearer and
nearer, and then he knew that he must instantly adopt some plan for his
escape.

His route lay by the river shore, and he could swim well; but the night
was dark, and he might be hurried into the rapids; and to be dashed to
pieces on the rocks was scarcely less dreadful than to be mangled and
devoured by wolves. In this extremity, the child lifted up his brave
young heart to God, and resolved to use the only chance left him of
escape. So he mounted Buck, the near-ox, making use of his goad,
shouting at the same time to the animal, to excite him to his utmost
speed.

In most cases, the horned steed would have flung off his rider, and
left him for wolves' meat, without hesitation; but Buck set off with
the speed of a race-horse, as if fully aware of his young rider's
peril. Nor was his companion less tardy. Fast, however, as the trio
fled, still faster came upon them the yelling pack behind; and James
could ever hear--

"Their long hard gallop which could tire
The hound's deep hate and hunter's fire."

Fortunately for him, old Buck heard it too, and galloped on and on; but
still the wolves came neater and nearer. James shouted to keep them