THE COYOTE, Oil WOLF. 



43 



except the cruncliing of the snow Avliicli Dick trod 

 under liis feet. The road he had to traverse was 

 very narrow, and its tortuous windings were across 

 a forest which the axe had not yet invaded. It was 

 only a footpath, for there was no road capable of 

 accommodating a carriage for miles around, lle- 

 flecting on the reproaches which awaited him for 

 his tardiness, and regretting the time spent in 

 polishing the splendid buttons of his coat, and 

 drawing out his collars to the required length, Dick 

 marched on at the top of his speed, without taking 

 notice of certain black shadows which dogged his 

 footsteps through the forest. They were the wolves, 

 the terrible coyotes, who followed him at a distance, 

 uttering barks and snarls of which Dick took no heed. 

 Soon, however, he was compelled to pay attention to 

 the scene which was going on behind him. He had 

 accomplished about half his journey, and througii 

 the arches of the trees he could just see the clear- 

 ing on which the house stood, where he was 

 expected. The angry snarls of the beasts of prey 

 had been increasing during the last quarter of an 

 hour, and the sound of their paws, under which the 

 snow craclded, inspired the poor old man with an 

 indescribable dread. The number of the brutes 

 seemed to increase as he advanced. 



It is the habit of the wolf to hesitate before 

 attacking a man; they examine their ground and 

 watch for a propitious moment. Dick knew his 



