a desperate situation.

awaking next morning much refreshed, but with a keen appetite for more grouse, dan davidson sat up and reflected. he felt that, although refreshed, the great weakness resulting from excessive loss of blood still rendered him almost helpless, and he knew that making new blood was a process that required good feeding and considerable time. what, then, was to be done?

he had scarcely asked himself the question when a rustle in the bushes near him caused him to look quickly round and seize his gun. but the noise was not repeated, and nothing could be seen to justify alarm. still dan felt that the sound justified caution; he therefore kept his gun handy, and loosened in its sheath the scalping-knife which he always carried in his belt—for eating purposes, not for scalping.

thus he sat for nearly an hour with an uncomfortable sensation that danger of some sort lurked near him, until he almost fell asleep. then, rousing himself he proceeded to breakfast on the bones and scraps of the previous night’s supper.

while thus engaged he tried to make up his mind what course he ought to pursue—whether to remain where he was until his friends should have time to find him—for he felt sure that okématan would escape and reach the settlement, in which case a search for him would certainly be set on foot—or whether he should make a desperate effort to stagger on, and ultimately, if need be, creep towards home. the pain of his wound was now so great as to render the latter course almost impossible. he therefore resolved to wait and give his friends time to institute a search, trusting to another shot at willow-grouse for a supply of food.

he had scarcely made up his mind to this plan when the rustling in the bushes was repeated again. seizing his gun, which he had laid down, dan faced round just in time to see the hindquarters and tail of a large grey wolf disappearing in the bushes.

to say that he felt considerable alarm when he saw this is not to stamp him with undue timidity, for he would have rejoiced to have had the wolf in his clutches, then and there, and to engage in single combat with it, weak though he was. what troubled him was his knowledge of the fact that the mean spirited and sly brute was noted for its apparent sagacity in finding out when an intended victim was growing too feeble to show fight—either from wounds or old age—and its pertinacity and patience in biding the time when an attack could be made with safety.

had this horrible creature discerned, by some occult knowledge, that the sands in his glass were running low? was it to be his fate to face his glaring murderer until he had not vital power left to grapple with it, or to guard his throat from its hideous fangs? these were questions which forced themselves upon him, and which might well have caused the stoutest heart to shrink from the threatened and terrible doom.

in the strength of his emotion he had almost fired at a venture at the spot where the brute had disappeared; but luckily the remembrance that it was his last charge of ammunition came to him in time, and he had the resolution to restrain himself even when his finger was on the trigger.

dan now perceived that he must not venture to remain on the spot where he had passed the night, because, being surrounded on three sides by shrubbery, it afforded his grisly foe an opportunity to approach from any quarter, and spring on him the moment he should find him off his guard.

there was a natural bank of earth out on the plain about three or four hundred yards off, with neither trees nor bushes near it. the bank was not more than four feet high, and the top slightly overhung its base, so that it afforded some slight protection from the sun. to this spot dan resolved to betake himself, and immediately began the journey—for a journey it surely was, seeing that the hunter had to do it on hands and knees, lifting his gun and pushing it before him, each yard or so, as he went along. the inflammation of his wound rendered the process all the slower and more painful, and a burning thirst, which he had no means of slaking, added to his misery.

by the time he had passed over the short distance, he was so much exhausted that he fell at the foot of the bank almost in a swoon.

evidently the wolf imagined that its time had now come, for it sneaked out of the wood when the hunter fell, and began cautiously to advance. but dan saw this, and, making a desperate effort, arose to a sitting posture, leaned his back against the bank, and placed his gun across his knees.

seeing this, the wolf sat down on its haunches, and coolly began to bide its time.

“ha! you brute!” muttered dan, “i could easily stop your mischief if my strength wasn’t all gone. as it is, i dare not give you my last shot till you are so close that you can look down the barrel o’ my gun.”

from this point a watch of endurance began on both sides—the brute, of course, unaware of the deadly weapon which its intended victim held, and the man fully aware of the fact that if he should venture to lie down and sleep, his doom would be sealed.

it is impossible for any one who has not had trial of similar experiences to imagine the rush of thought and feeling that passed through the brain and breast of dan davidson during the long dreary hours of that terrible day. sometimes he fell into a half-dreamy condition, in which his mind leaped over forests and ocean to bonnie scotland, where his days of childhood were spent in glorious revelry on her sunny banks and braes. at other times the memory of school-days came strong upon him, when play and lessons, and palmies were all the cares he had; or thoughts of sabbaths spent with his mother—now in the church, now in the fields, or at the cottage door learning bible stories and hearing words of wisdom and the story of the crucified one from her lips. then the scene would change, and he was crossing the stormy ocean, or fighting with red-skins, or thundering after the buffalo on the wide prairies. but through all the varied fabric of his thoughts there ran two distinct threads, one golden, the other black. the first we need hardly say was elspie mckay; the second was that awful wolf which sat there glaring at him with a hang-dog expression, with the red tongue hanging out of its mouth, and from which he never for a moment allowed his eyes to wander.

as evening began to draw on, the situation became terrible, for dan felt that the little strength he had left was fast sinking. the efforts by which he had succeeded in rousing himself in the earlier parts of the day were failing of their effect. then a strange and sudden change occurred, for, while he knew that the end of the trial was rapidly approaching, he began to experience a feeling of indifference—the result, no doubt, of excessive weariness—and almost a wish that all was over. nevertheless, whenever that wolf moved, or changed its position ever so little, the instinct of self-preservation returned in full force, and dan, pulling himself together, prepared to defend himself desperately to the last gasp.

while the two were thus glaring at each other, dan was startled and thoroughly aroused from his irresistible lethargy by a loud report.

next moment he saw the wolf extended dead upon the plain.