THE DANGERS OF FIKE HUNTING. 57 



was less fearful than the reality might be. I j)ictiired 

 him fallen, dragged back from his half-attained refuge, 

 and divided among the himgry pack; and the very noises 

 below might be the mumbling of his bones, 



" While their white tusks crunched o'er his whiter skull, 

 As it slipp'd through their jaws when their edge grew dull." 



At length I summoned courage, and called "Poke!" 



"Hulloa!" was the response — more grateful to my 

 ear than any sound in the world. 



" How are you, my boy ?" I called again. 



"Safe, thank the Lord!" 



" What a disgraceful situation to be in, and how are 

 we to get out of it ?" 



"I will be grateful if I can only keep in it; for this 

 tree is so small, that the wolves can almost reach me 

 when they jump; and, as I climbed up, one caught my 

 coat-tail, and tore it entirely off." 



" Climb up higher, then." 



"I can't; the tree is so small that, when I get any 

 higher, it bends over, and lets me down — oh dear !" 



" Haven't you your pistol with you ? Try and shoot 

 one, and it may frighten them." 



" Oh, dear, no ; there are hundreds of them. Just 

 look at them below !" 



I looked down, and surely I could see a drove of them. 

 They were evidently the grey wolf, for, in spite of the 

 darkness, I could, once in a while, detect their motions 

 from their light coats. 



3* 



