Her face was hidden behind the boy, so that none could
see its expression. It had lighted up with a most awful glee.
Afar, beyond the fir-grove, beyond the low hill behind, the absent
Christian was hastening his return. From daybreak he had been
afoot, carrying notice of a bear hunt to all the best hunters of
the farms and hamlets that lay within a radius of twelve miles.
Nevertheless, having been detained till a late hour, he now broke
into a run, going with a long smooth stride of apparent ease that
fast made the miles diminish.
He entered the midnight blackness of the fir-grove with scarcely
slackened pace, though the path was invisible; and passing through
into the open again, sighted the farm lying a furlong off down the
slope. Then he sprang out freely, and almost on the instant gave
one great sideways leap, and stood still. There in the snow was
the track of a great wolf.
His hand went to his knife, his only weapon. He stooped, knelt
down, to bring his eyes to the level of a beast, and peered about;
his teeth set, his heart beat a little harder than the pace of his
running insisted on. A solitary wolf, nearly always savage and of
large size, is a formidable beast that will not hesitate to attack
a single man. This wolf-track was the largest Christian had ever
seen, and, so far as he could judge, recently made. It led from
under the fir-trees down the slope. Well for him, he thought, was
the delay that had so vexed him before: well for him that he had
not passed through the dark fir-grove when that danger of jaws
lurked there.
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