450 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 
once, but usually require some little time to work themselves 
up to the point. That such was the case, now proved most 
lucky for poor old Dick, who began to realize the horrible 
danger, as a dark object would brush past his legs every 
few moments, with a snapping sound like the ring of a steel 
trap; while the yells and patter of the gathering wolves 
increased with terrible rapidity. Dick knew enough of the 
habits of the animal to be fully aware that to run would 
insure his instant death, as the cowardly pack would be sure 
to set upon him in a body on the instant of observing any 
such indication of fear. His only chance was to keep them 
at bay by preserving the utmost steadiness until he could 
1cach the open ground before him, when he hoped they 
uight leave him, as they do not like to attack in the open 
rround. He remembered, too, that an old hut still stood 
in the middle of the clearing, and the thought that he might 
reach that haven gave him some comfort. 
The wolves were becoming more audacious every minute, 
und the poor old soul could see their green eyes glaring 
fiery death upon him from all the thickets around. They 
rushed at him more boldly one after another, snapping as 
they went past in closer and closer proximity to his thin 
legs—indeed, the frightened fiddler instinctively thrust at 
them with his fiddle to turn them aside. In doing so the 
strings were jarred, and the despairing wretch took on some 
hope to his shivering soul, when he observed the sudden- 
ness of the sound caused the wolves to leap aside with 
surprise. He instantly drew his hand across the strings 
with vehemence, and to his infinite relief they sprang back 
and aside as if he had shot amongst them. Taking imme- 
diate advantage of this lucky diversion in his favor, as he 
had now reached the edge of the clearing, he made a break 
for the hut, raking his hand across the fiddle strings at every 
jump, until they fairly roared again. The astonished wolves 
