PRESENTIMENTS OF EVIL. 141 
and the evening meal dispatched, on a bed of leaves I would 
smoke myself to sleep, painting, till no longer conscious, 
‘pictures of distant home. A hunter’s camp always becomes 
a rendezvous for some wolves, and two of these scoundrels 
-were seldom beyond sight. Latterly they became so tame 
that they would come close enough to pick up a bone if 
thrown to them; and one night, when the cold was more 
rigorous than usual, on awaking to add fresh fuel to the 
fire, I saw one of them sitting beside the warm embers, 
nodding his head like a sleepy listener to a prosy sermon. 
Every day I expected to be able to set out. The appear- 
ance of the sky denoted change as I turned in on the last 
evening of my stay in this remote corner of the earth, but 
whether it was anticipation of the good things to be ob- 
tained when civilization had been reached, I know not, or 
an unaccountable consciousness that danger was not far 
distant, I could not sleep. First I tried one side and then 
the other, but without effect. As it was not cold, the fire 
had gradually decayed, till only a few embers remained, 
making the surrounding darkness more intense. While I 
was hesitating whether the rebuilding of the fire or a fresh 
pipe would induce sleep, uneasiness seemed to have taken 
possession of my animals. The mule was as watchful as a 
dog, and as I knew he would not leave his friend, I invaria- 
bly left him untied. Several times he uttered that short, 
quick snort so peculiar to the species, and always indicative 
of alarm; while the mare kept moving as far as her lariat 
rope would permit her. It might be any thing, from a deer 
to an Indian; so, as my arms were at hand, I quietly laid 
hold of them, and crawled out of my lair, taking special 
caution that no momentary flicker from the fire should dis- 
close my movements, and by a short détour got beside the 
nags, and soon had the soft, silky muzzle of Becky in the 
palm of my hand. 
