While she was considering what to do in her extremity, a short, quick bark, far in the forest behind her, succeeded by a prolonged howl, the bloodthirsty cry of the "timber wolf,"--which, when once heard, can never be forgotten,--broke on her ear. She had lived too long in the wilderness not to know what that meant, and she fled with wondrous swiftness down the path, on, on, she knew not whither. Her trembling limbs began to fail; but again the fiendish wolf-cry resounded, succeeded by that of another, and yet another,--showing that the call of the first had brought others to the chase,--made her forget her weakness, and, like a spirit, away she sped, once more, on the race for life. The race, however, was an unequal one, and its fearful termination was soon staring her in the face, as she heard the ferocious creatures drawing near; when, to her relief, she saw ahead a small, untenanted cabin. It was a shanty used by the woodsmen in the winter while felling trees. The door was off its hinges; and, passing swiftly in, in the agony of despair, she glanced around for a hiding-place. But the room was equally open to the wolves as to herself. Instantly, in a manner that seemed almost superhuman, she passed up the side of the cabin to a beam laid for an upper floor, and stood there, clinging, with her bony fingers to the wall, as motionless as a marble statue, while the wolves, disappointed of their prey, sat on the floor below, lapping their hungry jaws, and watching her till dawn, where she was found by a party who had been searching for her all night. She was speechless when rescued, and utterly unable for a time to give any account of herself. Her first inquiry, however, when she could remember what had happened, was for little Bub. "I guess," said one of the men, soothingly, "he has turned up all right afore now." But as she insisted on going to the minister's to ascertain if Bub was safe, they assisted her there, where were assembled a number of women, among whom was Mrs. Jones, anxious about the lost child, for no trace of him had been discovered. When Bub was so unceremoniously disrobed of his priestly garments by Mrs. Smith's skinny hand, highly offended at so gross an invasion of his rights and dignities, to console himself he determined to run home and tell his mother of the outrage.