Still the fight was unequal, as John, half buried in the snow, could make use of but one of his hands. He shouted to his dogs, but one of them only, a young, untrained hound, made his appearance. Emerging from a thicket he caught sight of his master, lying apparently at the mercy of the ravenous beast, uttered a yell of fear, and fled howling to the woods again. "Had I had one shot left," said Cheney, " I would have given

THE HUDSON.

it to that dog instead of dispatching the wolf with it." In the exasperation of the moment John might have extended his contempt to the whole canine race, if a stauncher friend had not, at the moment, interposed to vindicate their character for courage and fidelity. All this had passed in a moment ; the wolf was still grinding the iron gun-harrel in his teeth -- he had even once wrenched it from the hand of the hunter -- when, dashing like a thunderbolt between the combatants, the other hound sprang over his master's body, and seized the wolf by the throat. " There was no let go about that dog when he once took hold," said John. "If the barrel had been red hot the wolf couldn't have dropped it quicker, and it would have done you good, I tell you, to see that old dog drag the cretur's head down in the snow, while I, just at my leisure, drove the iron into his skull. One good, fair blow, though, with a heavy rifle barrel, on the back of the head, finished him. The fellow gave a kind o' quiver, stretched out his hind legs, and then he was done for. I had the rifle stocked afterwards, but she would never shoot straight since that fight, so I got me this pistol, which, beiug light and handy, enables me more conveniently to carry an axe upon my long tramps, and make myself comfortable in the woods."