alone to the wood to hunt wolves.

It was a beautiful evening, and the birds were singing in all the
branches. Walter went very slowly and cautiously. At every step
he looked all round him to see if perchance there was anything
lurking behind the stones. He quite thought something moved away
there in the ditch. Perhaps it was a wolf. 'It is better for me
to beat the drum a little before I go there,' thought Walter.

Br-r-r, so he began to beat his drum. Then something moved again.
Caw! caw! a crow flew up from the ditch. Walter immediately
regained courage. 'It was well I took my drum with me,' he
thought, and went straight on with courageous steps. Very soon he
came quite close to the kiln, where the wolves had killed the
ram. But the nearer he came the more dreadful he thought the kiln
looked. It was so gray and old. Who knew how many wolves there
might be hidden there? Perhaps the very ones which killed the ram
were still sitting there in a corner. Yes, it was not at all safe
here, and there were no other people to be seen in the
neighbourhood. It would be horrible to be eaten up here in the
daylight, thought Walter to himself; and the more he thought
about it the uglier and grayer the old kiln looked, and the more
horrible and dreadful it seemed to become the food of wolves.

'Shall I go back and say that I struck one wolf and it escaped?'
thought Walter. 'Fie!' said his conscience, 'Do you not remember
that a lie is one of the worst sins, both in the sight of God and
man? If you tell a lie to-day and say you struck a wolf, to-
morrow surely it will eat you up.'