While the wolfer, warming to his work, was putting in his blows with such force that the end of the switch began to show signs of wear, something like a clap of thunder sounded close to his ear; and, when he picked himself up from the corner of the lean-to, into which he had been sent headlong by Oscar’s terrific blow, he saw the two brothers with their arms around each other. The face of one was suffused with tears, while that of the other wore a threatening scowl. In this one’s right hand, which was supporting Tom’s head, was something that was still more threatening—a cocked revolver, whose muzzle was pointed toward the corner from which the bewildered wolfer was slowly rising. “Tom! Tom! what is the meaning of all this?” cried Oscar in great alarm. “Tell me quick what has happened. Why, what’s this?” The hand which he drew tenderly across his brother’s battered countenance was marked with a crimson stain. Oscar gazed at it a moment in speechless amazement; then he looked at his brother’s bandaged foot, and finally he turned his eyes toward the wolfer. At the sight of him he jumped to his feet, caught up the switch, which had fallen from the wolfer’s hand, and attacked him with the greatest fury. Lish howled loudly, and tried to fight off the blows, but he might almost as well have tried to resist Big Thompson. His active young assailant was as strong just then as two boys of his age generally are; and, to show that he had both the determination and the pluck to back up his strength, we will simply mention the fact that when Lish, driven desperate with pain, dashed forward to close with him, Oscar met him full in the face with a left-hander that knocked him clean through the brush side of the lean-to. “Look out, Oscar! Look out!” cried the amazed and terrified Tom, who now, for the first time, found his tongue. “He’s got a knife!” But Oscar’s blood was up, and he did not heed the warning. He ran quickly out of the front of the lean-to, intending to meet Lish on the outside. But the latter was too smart for him. He was almost out of sight in the woods, running like a deer, his hair sticking straight out in the wind behind him. “What’s the matter with you?” panted Oscar, as he threw all that was left of the switch upon the fire. “Have you frozen one of your feet?” “No; I cut it with an axe,” sobbed Tom. “O Oscar, you don’t know how glad I am to see you again!” These were the pleasantest words to which the boy had listened since he left home. There was so much meaning in them that a protracted conversation between them was not necessary. “Can you sit on a horse?” he asked. “I can try,” replied Tom, smiling through his tears. “But I am pretty weak, and almost frozen. I have had nothing much to eat for thirty-six hours, and I haven’t been able to get about to gather any firewood.” “Hasn’t your partner taken care of you?” exclaimed Oscar.