“The best success. I have found a house, which I think will suit us exactly. Come to the window for a moment again. Do you see, immediately under the moon, that distant grove, that looks as if it were just against the horizon? You see the trees stand up straight and dark against the sky?” “Yes, I see it.” “That is Wolf’s Grove. It is not more than three miles from here. I can easily walk the distance twice a day. There is one building on the spot—a large log cabin, that was put up for a meeting-house, but has fallen into disuse since the rise of this village. The cabin is in good repair, and I have already engaged it. So, dear wife, we have only to wait for the arrival of our little furniture, to go to housekeeping. And to-morrow we will go over to Wolf’s Grove, and review the premises.” CHAPTER XX. THE LOG CABIN. “A summer lodge amid the wild.”—_Bryant._ “Judge! your plunder’s come—landed from the ‘Sachem’ this morning!” were the words with which the landlord greeted Mark Sutherland, as the latter, with Rosalie, descended to breakfast. “Judge!” echoed Rosalie, looking inquiringly from one to the other. Mark Sutherland laughed, and pinched her arm; and when their host had moved off in another direction, said: “Nonsense, Rose. Yes, it was _I_ whom he addressed as Judge—of course it was. Every one gets an honorary title of distinction here. I don’t know what it is given for; certainly not to confer honour, but rather, I suppose, for the sake of civil brevity, as it is easier to say ‘Judge’ than ‘Mr. Thompson.’ Now, if I had ever belonged to any military company—if only as private in militia, they’d dub me here ‘Cap’n,’ if not ‘Major,’ or ‘Gen’l:’ and if I were county constable, instead of law student, they must still call me ‘Judge.’” And just then, as if in illustration of Mr. Sutherland’s words, several men entered, eagerly inquiring for “the Colonel,” meaning the landlord. And when the host came forward to know their will, several speaking equally together, exclaimed: “Colonel, we want your guns, and your dogs, and your company, this morning, to hunt a pack of wolves that chased Jones’s boy almost into the village!” “A pack of wolves!” exclaimed the boarders, gathering around. “Jones’s boy!” ejaculated the landlord, in amazement. “Riding from McPherson’s mill;” “So close, they caught at the boy’s boots;” “Foremost one hung upon the horse’s flanks;” “Wounded;” “Nothing but the animal’s speed saved him;” “Wet with sweat;” “Miraculous ’scape;” “Jones’s boy,” &c., were the broken sentences with which the tale was told by the several informants, all speaking at once.