The moon shone through the opening at the mouth of the creek by which I had entered the forest, and considering this the best means of escape, I darted toward it like an arrow. It was hardly a hundred yards distant, and the swallow could scarcely have excelled me in flight; yet. as I turned my head to the shore. I could see several dark objects dashing through the brushwood at a pace nearly double in speed to my own. By their great speed, and the short yells which they occasionally gave, I knew at once that these were the much-dreaded grey wolves.
The bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity of lightning as I dashed on in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The outlet was nearly gained-a few seconds more and I would be comparatively safe; but in a moment my pursuers appeared on the bank above me, which here rose to the height of ten feet. There was no time for thought-I bent my head and dashed madly forward. The wolves sprang, but,miscalculating my speed, fell behind, while their intended prey glided out upon the river!
Nature turned me toward home. The light flakes of snow spun from the iron of my skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when their fierce howl told me I was still their fugitive. I did not look back; I did not feel afraid, or sorry, or glad; one thought of home. of the bright faces awaiting my return, and of their tears if they should never see me-and then all the energies of body and mind were exerted for escape.
I was perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I had spent on my good skates, never thinking that they would thus prove my only means of safety. Every half minute a furious yelp from my fierce attendants made me but too certain that they were in close pursuit. Nearer and nearer theyDrawn by John Rowell
"I even felt their very breath."
came-at last I heard their feet pattering on the ice-I even felt their very breath and heard their snuffling scent! Every nerve and muscle in my frame was stretched to the utmost tension.
The trees along the shore seemed to dance in an un- certain light, and my brain turned with my own breathless speed; yet still my pursuers seemed to hiss forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary motion on my part turned me out of my course. The wolves, close behind, unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and fell, still going on far ahead.
Their tongues were lolling out; their white tusks were gleaming from their bloody mouths; their dark, shaggy breasts were fleeced with foam; and as they passed me their eyes glared, and they howled with fury. The thought flashed on my mind that by this means I could avoid them-namely, by turning aside whenever they came too near; for, by the formation of their feet, they are unable to run on ice except in a straight line.
I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves, having regained their feet, sprang directly towards me. The race was renewed for twenty yards up the stream; they were already close at my back, when I glided round and dashed directly past them. A fierce yell greeted my evolution, and the wolves, slipping on their haunches, sailed onward, presenting a perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rage. Thus I gainednearly a hundred yards at each turning. This was repeated two or three times, the animals becoming more excited and baffled every moment.
At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my sanguinary antagonists came so near that they threw their white foam over my dress as they sprang to seize me, and their teeth clashed together like the spring of a fox-trap! Had my skates failed for one instant, had I tripped on a stick, or had my foot been caught in a fissure of the ice, the story I am now telling would never have been told.
I thought over all the chances. I knew where they would first seize me if I fell. I thought how long it would be before I died; and then of the search for my body that would already have had its tomb; for oh! how fast man"s mind traces out all the dread colours of death"s picture, only those who have been near the grim original can tell.
At last I came opposite the house, and my hounds- I knew their deep voices-roused by the noise, bayed furiously from their kennels. I heard their chains rattle; how I wished they would break them; then I should have had protectors to match the fiercest denizens of the forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in their mad career, and after a few moments turned and fled.
I watched them until their forms disappeared over a neighbouring hill; then, taking off my skates, I wended my way to the house, with feelings which may be better imaginedthan described. But even yet I never see a broad sheet of ice by moonlight without thinking of that snuffing breath, and those fearful things that followed me so closely down that frozen river.
Author.-Charles Whitehead (1804-1862), minor poet and writer of at least one good novel-Richard Savage-was born in London, but late in life came to Melbourne, where he died. He wrote The Cavalier (a poetic drama) and Smiles and Tears (a collection of essays and short stories).
General Notes.-Where is the scene laid? What trees are mentioned that show it could not be in Australia? Write a fanciful story in the same strain, calling it " Chased by Wild Cattle."LESSON 21
THE WARRIgAl
The warrigal"s lair is pent in bare Black rocks at the gorge"s mouth;It is set in ways where summer strays
With the sprites of flame and drouth;
But, when the heights are touched with lights Of hoar-frost, sleet, and shine,His bed is made of the dead grass-blade And the leaves of the windy pine.
Through forest boles the storm-wind rolls, Vext of the sea-driven rain;And, up in a cleft, through many a rift, The voices of torrents complain.
The sad marsh-fowl and the lonely owl Are heard in the fog-wreaths grey,When the warrigal wakes and listens and takes To the woods that shelter the prey.
In the gully-deeps the blind creek steeps, And the silver, showery moonGlides over the hills and floats and fills,