164 A SPORTING PARADISE 



reaching me. They sounded their hideous snarls 

 at every chink in the logs, but, as time went on, 

 and they still remained merely scraping and 

 tearing at the stout timbers, I began to feel a 

 sense of safety. Once I fancied I heard a piteous, 

 despairing shriek, and my thoughts turned to my 

 brave pal who had saved my life. The sound 

 seemed like the voice of a man whose last hour 

 had come, and the death which he had to face 

 was of an awful nature. 



" Fancy often invents and deceives the highly- 

 strung mind. It is quite possible to mistake the 

 screech of the cougar, or wild cat, for the human 

 voice, and the dismal creaking groans of a half- 

 severed bough, swayed by the wind, for the 

 painful utterances of a dying person. I tried to 

 picture Jack safely hidden away amidst the 

 branches of a huge oak, but in reality I had 

 little hope for him. A man overtaken by so 

 many wolves would have been killed, and 

 devoured in a few moments, and, underestimating 

 the speed of my flight, I dreaded lest the wolves, 

 having destroyed Jack, might be hurrying after 

 me. It was a revolting thought, and the horror 

 of proceeding alone almost moved me to go forth 

 into the night and perish. 



