the air was still. In the distance here and there arose the occasional yelp of timber wolves, doubtless on their regular nocturnal patrol as scavengers. Investigation revealed the presence of pigs, which had burrowed out a comfortable nest in the straw stack. After a few punches, two animals with many grunts of reluctance consented to vacate their bed. I immediately crawled, feet first, quite out of sight into the nest. It was a far better bed than the soldiers had been accustomed to sleep in, during the Civil War. The cares of the day were soon forgotten in slumber, but early in the morning I was suddenly awakened by the jumping of heavy animals upon the straw pile above me and by the angry barking of dogs, the deep baying of which came through the passage to my nest. Their noses were soon thrust into the straw at the entrance. The three big mastiffs in the Caledonian's lodge on the previous night had been turned loose for their morning airing and had scented the presence of an intruder in the straw pile. Every word that I spoke to them served but to augment their savage howls and barking. I had often run badgers and other burrowing animals into their holes, but had never before so fully realized the deplorable straits to which I had reduced them. I managed to extricate my revolver from the belt but remembered that its flash would set the straw on fire, nor did I care to incur the hostility of the surly Scot by shooting one of his dearest friends and protectors. Already I had had trouble enough. The Highlander's attention was finally attracted by the excited conduct of his dogs and naturally believing that they had covered some big game in the straw pile he urged them on and returned to the cabin for his gun. My voice was smothered and muffled by the straw pile and drowned in the incessant howling and barking of the three dogs, and still I would not shoot until they should make an attack. Yelling at the top of my voice I finally made the Scotchman aware that the sound proceeded from a human being and that the import of my entreaty was that he call off his dogs, else I must shoot, and that I was the fellow whom he received the night before. His response inspired me with hope. Laying aside his gun he took one and then another of the savage mastiffs by the tail, pulled them back and fought them off, until at length he got between them and the hole under the straw stack. As I emerged, the vicious beasts made another plunge, but in some way I struggled to my feet, when possibly the excited animals recognized me as the guest of their master and their interest subsided, though for some time they maintained close watch, apparently ready on the slightest hint to renew hostilities. The Scot informed me that his dogs were great on wolves and were well-trained. Nothing in addition to my recent observations was necessary to convince me that the dogs were great on any game.