in every limb, and seemed powerless to move. Allan realized that he
could not, before dark, reach home through the drifts ahead, and the
increasing cold of the advancing night would render a refuge in a
tree-top probably as deadly as an encounter with the pack.

Presently there came a cry, shriller and sharper than before, and
Allan, looking back, saw a great, lean, hungry gray wolf burst from
the underbrush into the road, followed by dozens more; and in a moment
the road behind him was full of wolves, open-mouthed and in keen
chase. Their yells now seemed notes of exultation, for the leader
of the pack--the strongest, fleetest, hungriest one among them--was
within a dozen yards of Allan, who was now riding faster than ever old
Bob had gone before or ever would go again. Excitement made the lad's
blood boil in his veins, and he determined to show fight. The moon had
risen, and the scene was almost as light as day. Now he could count
the crowding host of his enemies, and just as he broke from the forest
road into the old clearing, he turned in his saddle and fired. The
foremost of the pack rolled over and over; the rest gathered around
and tore their leader in pieces.

By the time they resumed the chase, Allan was a hundred yards ahead
with his rifle loaded. He determined to make a running fight of it to
the hill, where he was sure of meeting his father, or could take to a
tree and shoot until help came. This had hardly flashed through his
brain when, right ahead of him, a detachment of the pack sprang into
the road and answered with double yells the cries of the rest coming
up behind. The horse wheeled suddenly, almost unseating Allan, and
dashed across the clearing toward the wood; but he had not taken a
dozen bounds when a wolf sprang upon him. Old Bob reared and fell,
pitching Allan nearly twenty feet ahead, and was covered with wolves