"Conrad saw his danger, and endeavored to escape by climbing a tree. He stood on one of the boughs, and supported himself by resting his body against the trunk. The wolf retreated a few paces, and then sprang forward, his wide gaping jaws, bristling with frightful teeth, almost touched the trembling boy, but did not actually reach him. Again and again with new fury, the wolf repeated the attempt, but in vain. At last he lay down under the tree, whining and howling, and glaring upon his destined victim. Conrad was almost dead with fear—a cold perspiration stood upon his brow; he shouted for help, but no help came, and the sun began to sink, and twilight to deepen into night. "Suddenly, as hope was nearly gone, the distant bay of the hounds was heard. They had come upon the scent of the wolf, and were drawing nearer every moment. Then came the loud clear sound of the bugle, and the shouts of men. The wolf heard the cry of the dogs, and the sound of the approaching hunters, and arising, took precipitately to flight. "The moon had just arisen. Conrad's father and the rest of the party approached the tree. With shame, Conrad descended, and acknowledged how foolishly he had acted. The old huntsman gave his young master a sharp rebuke—'Young folks always imagine they understand everything better than old ones; but the egg can't be wiser than the hen. May this adventure be a warning to you.' "Meanwhile George served his master very faithfully. He set manfully about his work, was never lazy and indolent, but was indefatigable in his exertions till the work was done. And work did not make him sad or heavyhearted; he was always merry, kind, and obliging to every one. And this sort of conduct is sure to make friends. The farmer and his wife loved the boy as their own child, and the children loved him as if he had been their own brother. "One evening, while he was busily engaged, tying up pine branches into bundles for fire-wood, a man came from his native place and told him the misfortune that had happened at home. George began to weep very bitterly, and the children wept with him for company. The good farmer and his wife came out to see what was the matter. "'O, my dear mother!' said George. 'What will become of her now? She will be sadly cast down at the loss of the poor beast. Poor old Mayflower, she was the prettiest cow in the whole village. She was a beautiful brown, with a light white stain on her forehead, and was so sleek and glossy that a drop of water would not remain upon her hide. She was all my poor mother had. She yielded six or eight measures of milk a day. Alas! Alas! My poor mother,—now she will be poor indeed. The milk was her best, almost her only support, and she was not able to buy another cow. Alas! Alas!'