before he could regain his footing. That was the last of poor old Bob.

[Illustration: "OLD BOB FELL, PITCHING ALLAN AHEAD."]

But Allan! What of him? When he recovered from the effects of the
shock, he found himself over head and ears in snow. He had no idea
where he was, but struggled and plunged in vain endeavors to extricate
himself, until at last he broke into a space that was clear of snow,
but dark as Erebus, damp and close. Feeling about him he discovered
over his head logs resting slantingly against the upper edge of a pit,
and then he knew that he was in the cellar of the old house his father
had built, and which had been burned down nine years before! The
cellar was full of snow, except at the corner roofed over by the
fallen logs, and Allan, bursting through the snow into the empty
corner, was as secure from the wolves as though seated by his father's
fireside. It was not nearly as cold in there as outside, and he found
a dry spot upon which he lay down to think.

He was in no danger of freezing to death, his food would keep him from
starvation a week at least, and Allan concluded that, with the first
glimpse of dawn, his father would be in search of him, and, following
the tracks, find old Bob's bones, and quickly rescue him from his
predicament. He reasoned wisely enough, but the elements were against
him. Before sunrise a furious storm of wind and snow had completely
obliterated every trace of horse, rider and wolves.

At home, as the night wore on, the anxiety of the family had
increased. While they were watching the gathering storm, they heard
the long, dismal howl of the wolves coming over the hill. The chill of
fear that they should never see the boy again settled down upon all