270 
THE WOLF. 
“ A fiddle !” exclaimed Richard. 
“Yes, by a fiddle and by his own pre¬ 
sence of mind. He had been to a merry¬ 
making, and was going home at night with 
his instrument under his arm. I should not 
wonder if he had been drinking a little ; for 
when he got about to the middle of a piece 
of woods he lay down under a little tree 
and went to sleep. By-and-by he was awak¬ 
ened by something pushing and smelling 
him; and, opening one eye cautiously, he 
perceived, to his horror, that an enormous 
wolf was busy about him, pushing the leaves 
over him with its nose. Though he was 
dreadfully frightened, he had the sense to 
lie perfectly still; and presently the wolf left 
him, and he heard its feet pattering off on 
the dead leaves. It didn’t take him long to 
jump up and climb the tree under which he 
lay; and he was hardly seated in a crotch, 
with his fiddle under his arm, when the 
wolf came running back, attended by half a 
dozen others. They surrounded the tree, 
howling horribly, and looking up into its 
branches, leaping up and showing their 
white teeth, and even biting the bark of the 
tree in their rage. As I said, the tree was 
