"Oh, Kit, he sees the wolf," cried Stella, interpreting for Kit's benefit the little drama being enacted for their benefit on the far-away hilltop. "What's he doing now?" asked Kit, who was growing impatient from seeing nothing except the changing expressions on Stella's face. "Nothing!" "Pshaw!" "Ha!" Stella gave forth an excited little exclamation. "What is it? Give me the glass." "Go away!" Stella pushed off Kit's hand that was reaching out for the glass. "Now he's gone. He's out of sight. No; I can see his head. It's going up and down." A long pause. "Well, what's doing?" said Kit eagerly, and somewhat impatiently. "Can't see a thing." "Oh, rats! Let me look." "Keep quiet. I see his head now." "Is that all? What's he doing?" "Here he comes. I can see his shoulders all bent over." "Is he hurt?" "Of course not, silly." "Then why is he bent over?" "I believe he's carrying something. Yes. He has something in his arms. Goodness, gracious me!" "What is it?" "Why, he's carrying a wolf in his arms. But what a funny wolf." "I insist upon having the glass. I'm the fellow on watch." "Kit, you're very rude. Don't bother me. Don't you see through me? Am I not telling you everything that occurs?" "Oh, what's the use?" Kit shrugged his shoulders in a disgusted way, as if he were expressing the futility of arguing with a woman, and wishing that she were a boy, so that he could punch her head and take back his glass again. "What's the matter with the wolf?" Kit asked at last, in a sulky tone. "If you get mad at me, Kit, I won't talk to you." Stella took down the glass for a moment and looked at Kit severely. "All right, fire away, but tell me what's going on, for Heaven's sake. Don't break off in the middle that way." "It's an awful big wolf, and its hide don't fit it. Its legs stick out of the skin, and I can see one of its feet. Gracious, it has a queer sort of a boot on it, and this wolf has human hands." "Stella, quit your fooling. What is going on out there? This is serious. It's no time for nonsense." "I'm not fooling. I'm quite in earnest. Now Ted's lifting the queer thing onto the saddle, and holding it there." "Has he killed the wolf, or man, or wolf man, or woman, or whatever crazy thing it is? I knew there was something queer about it," exclaimed Kit. "I'm sure I don't know whether he killed it or not. I couldn't see through the hill." "What's he doing now?" "He has started toward the house, leading the pony and holding the thing in the saddle. Here! Take your old glass! I'm going to ride out and see what it's all about." She thrust the spyglass into Kit's hand, and, with a merry laugh at his look of disgust, disappeared through the scuttle, and a few minutes later he saw her riding like mad across the prairie toward Ted. In the course of a half hour they were both back at the house, and Kit's curiosity led him to desert his post to find out what Ted's strange burden was.