The sun was going down in the west; the shadows in the wood gradually deepened; in his reclining position, Ned Chadmund found a heavy drowsiness stealing over him. The afternoon was no more than half gone when his eyes closed in a refreshing sleep, which continued several hours, and might have lasted still longer had it not been broken. It was far into the night when the sleeping lad suddenly opened his eyes without understanding the cause of his doing so. Something had aroused him, but he could not divine what it was. His posture had become somewhat cramped from his long continuance in it and he shifted about so as to rest upon the other side. As he did so, he became aware that some one or something else was near him. The slightest possible rustling at the base of the trunk directed his attention there, but there was too much intervening shrubbery for him to detect anything at all. Everything in that direction was shrouded in the densest gloom. The moon was directly overhead, and shining so that he was able to see for some little distance when he turned his glance from the trunk. Remembering his revolver, the boy reached down and drew it from within his waistcoat, where he had concealed it. "If anybody wants to run against that, let him do so," he said to himself. "It has five good charges which I will use up before they shall lay hands upon me or Lone Wolf shall call me his prisoner again." It seemed to him that, in case of discovery, his position might place him at a great disadvantage, so he carefully drew his head and shoulders out of the trunk, so as to leave his arms free to use. This was scarcely done when he caught the same sound below him, repeated so distinctly that he knew on the instant what it meant. It was a scratching, rattling of bark, such as would be made by the claws of an animal in picking its way along, and as he strained his eyes through the gloom, he saw very faintly the outlines of some wild animal approaching him, a low, threatening growl at the same time establishing the identity of the bear beyond question. Ned was about to give him the contents of one barrel, when he was restrained by the recollection that his ammunition was exceedingly precious and that the report of the pistol was likely to bring some one whom he dreaded more than the fiercest wild beasts of the forest. So he decided to try milder means at first. Accordingly, the endangered lad tried to see whether the animal could not be frightened away without really hurting him. Breaking off a piece of bark, he flung it in his face, giving utterance, at the same time, to a growl as savage as that of the beast himself. The latter instantly paused, as if puzzled to understand what it meant, but he did not retreat. He merely stood his ground and growled back again. Encouraged even by this dubious success, Ned threw more bark, made more noise, and flung his arms so wildly that he came very near throwing his revolver out of his grasp into the creek.