THE DANGERS OF FIEE HUNTING. 65 



Doctor was taking aim, but I noticed it was not very 

 steady. He pulled the trigger — a dull snap announced 

 a miss-fire. He pulled the other trigger — it snapped in 

 the same way. The gun was wet with rain. 



" Was anything ever so provoking !" said Poke, as the 

 eyes vanished in the darkness. 



" If it is the devil, he will have you now." 



^' How can you talk so," said the Doctor, with a strong 

 accent on the " can." 



" There is your deer. Poke, in the windfall," said I, as 

 I caught sight of the eyes moving rapidly along over the 

 mass of timber that lay heaped and knotted together. 



" That's no deer," said Poke ; " no cloven-foot could 

 ever go over that windfall that way. I would rather see 

 the night huntsman of the Hartz Mountains than see 

 those eyes again." As he was speaking, I saw in the 

 inky darkness ahead of us, another pair of eyes, and two 

 or three pairs on the left. The truth flashed on me. 

 The scarcity of the deer, the proximity of the windfall, 

 the restlessness of those baleful eyes, all gave me the 

 clue — the wolves were around us. 



A word to Poke, and the affiair was explamed, and we 

 stood still for consultation. We tried new caps on our 

 gun ; but it was of no use, the cones were saturated with 

 water. We turned toward the camj), but in our con- 

 fusion we forgot the direction. To heighten the misery 

 of the scene, our torch was almost burnt out — let that 

 die. and the rest could be easily divined. 



We Avere standing, at the time, under a grove of small 



