THE WOLF. 
271 
a small one, and the branches were hardly 
stout enough to bear him; and he feared, 
besides, that they might try to gnaw it down. 
At last a thought struck him in his despera¬ 
tion : he seized his fiddle, and, tucking it 
under his chin, began to play furiously. 
Now, whether the coloured man played so 
badly, or whether the wolves were not fond 
of music, I can’t take it upon me to say; 
but the fact was that when he had finished 
‘Yankee Doodle,’ and looked around for his 
enemies, not one of them was to be seen or 
heard. He kept omplaying at intervals till 
sunrise, and then descended from his perch 
and walked home, prouder than ever of his 
fiddle and fully determined never to go to 
sleep in the woods again.” 
“ Here come grandfather and aunt to see 
the panther,” exclaimed Daisy, as they 
were laughing over this story. “I wonder 
what they will say when they find it lying 
there?” 
“ Oh, I told them before I thought,” said 
Sidney, colouring a little. 
“Just like you, Sidney!” retorted Annie. 
“You never can keep anything to yourself, 
—any thing like that,” she added, seeing Sid- 
