Step By Step It Crept Up To The Kettle, Took The Handle Of The Lid Between Its Jaws, Lifted It Off, Placed It Noiselessly On The Ground, And Devoured The Savoury Stew.

I could not fire, because of the men.

I dared not move, lest I should disturb the robber. I was even afraid the click of cocking the pistol would startle him and prevent my getting a quiet shot. But patience was rewarded. When satiated, the brute retired as stealthily as he had advanced; and as he passed within seven or eight yards of me I let him have it. Great was my disappointment to see him scamper off. How was it possible I could have missed him? I must have fired over his back. The men jumped to their feet and clutched their rifles; but, though astonished at my story, were soon at rest again. After this the kettle was never robbed. Four days later we were annoyed with such a stench that it was a question of shifting our quarters. In hunting for the nuisance amongst the thicket of wormwood, the dead wolf was discovered not twenty yards from our centre.

The reader would not thank me for an account of the monotonous drudgery, the hardships, the quarrellings, which grew worse from day to day after we left Fort Laramie. Fred and I were about the only two who were on speaking terms; we clung to each other, as a sort of forlorn security against coming disasters.

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