The sentinel on his rounds, the watchman upon his beat, or the sailor pacing the deck of his vessel in mid-ocean, keeps his senses awake by the constant motion of his body. To sit down to rest for a few minutes only is fatal. Sleep has the power of stealing over the faculties, and wrapping them up in its embrace so insidiously, that no watchfulness can guard against it unless artificial means, such as walking, are resorted to. When Ned Chadmund resumed an easy position in front of his own camp fire, the inevitable result followed. He resolved to keep his ears and eyes open, and almost immediately closed them. A few minutes passed and then his head began to nod. Several times he narrowly escaped tumbling over, and, finally rousing, he vigorously rubbed his eyes, yawned, and arose to his feet.

"My gracious! this won't do," he exclaimed, with a shuddering sense of the danger he was running. "A bear might steal right up to me and eat me up before I could help myself. If I'm going to play sentinel, I must do it like a man."

Straightway he began pacing back and forth in front of the blaze, his beat extending some twenty feet back and forth. He carried his rifle on his shoulder and proved the thoroughness of his vigilance by an occasional glance at the top of the rock, from which the mountain wolf had made its death leap. The coast remained clear. The far-off sounds which had attracted his attention a short time before were not repeated, and, as the labor of walking back and forth grew a little wearisome, he began to argue the question with himself.

"I wonder whether there isn't some way of resting without working? If I've got to walk all night, what shall I be good for to-morrow? I don't see any fun in this sort of business. Ah, I know how I'll fix it; I'll kindle two fires."

He acted upon the idea at once. He had gathered such an abundance of fuel that he had no fear of the supply running out. In a few minutes he had a second fire started, about a dozen feet from the other, while he stowed himself away directly between them. His position, he soon discovered, was rather warmer than he anticipated, but he speedily remedied this by permitting each fire to subside in a slight degree.

"This is nice," he muttered, shrinking up against the rock. "I don't think any wild creature would harm me unless he tumbled over the top of the rock there and dropped on my head. Even then I think I should wake up soon enough to use my gun on him. But then, I guess I won't go to sleep."

Five minutes later his head was nodding again, and utter unconsciousness speedily followed. But one of the brands in the fire on his right fell, and there was a slight crackling explosion of the embers—as is often the case. A glowing spark flew outward and dropped upon the limp hand of the sleeping youngster.

Simultaneously there was a yell, and the lad leaped several feet from the ground, dancing about like a rejoicing warrior and flinging his hand as if he were trying to shake off some clinging reptile.

"I should like to know who did that?" he exclaimed, a little confused by the startling manner in which he had been aroused. "I guess I understand how it all came about, though," he added, as he examined the stinging blister upon the back of his hand.

The pain from this little wound effectually banished all sleep for the time. Ned busied himself in replenishing the fire, and then walked out in the gloom and looked about. Everything was the same. The night was dark,—no moon being visible,—and an oppressive sultriness was in the atmosphere. It seemed as if some elemental disturbance were close at hand, but in looking to the sky no presage of it could be discovered.

After wandering about for some time, the lad spat upon some earth, and, plastering it over the smarting blister, succeeded in shutting out the air from it and secured considerable relief.

"It must be that I am all alone," he added, standing still and listening. "No one is near and no one sees me but God. He has taken care of me in the past, and He will not forsake me in future," he added, looking reverently upward.

The old feeling of drowsiness again stole over him and he determined to secure a night's rest—that is, during the portion of the night that remained. Still the fact that the fires had run down somewhat raised the inquiry in his mind as to what was likely to happen in case they went out altogether. If any more grizzly bears should put in an appearance, his situation would not be of the most inviting nature, but he had argued himself into the belief that no further peril of this character threatened. By placing a goodly amount of fuel upon the fires he hoped to keep them going until daylight, or until his slumber was over. Had he been able to find a suitable tree, he would have made his bed in that, even at the risk of another disagreeable fall, but nothing of the kind could be seen, and he had already grown weary of hunting for some hiding place among the rocks. Accordingly, the camp fires were replenished and he resumed his former position between them, covering his hands very carefully, lest another spark should drop in the same place.

"I wish it was colder!" he exclaimed, when he found the place growing uncomfortably warm. "If it was winter now, I shouldn't want anything nicer."

He stood it like a hero, however, and by and by his place became more pleasant, for the reason that the fuel was rapidly burning down. About this time sleep regained possession of his senses, and, cramped up though he was, with his back against the rock, his slumber was scarcely less sound than if he were stretched out upon his blanket beneath a tree in the forest.

At the time young Chadmund relapsed into unconsciousness it was nearly midnight, and for nearly two hours following there was scarcely the slightest change in the surroundings. The fires burned low, until the figure of the lad braced up against the rock grew dim and shadowy in the deepening gloom. Scarcely a breath of air stirred the vegetation about him, and everything seemed to be calculated to lull one into a deep, soothing, dreamless sleep. But at the end of the time mentioned, something came out of the undergrowth and advanced stealthily toward him. It was vague, shadowy, and so dimly outlined that at first its form could not be recognized; but as it glided closer to the fire, there was enough light remaining to disclose the figure of another wolf.

Like a phantom born of the gloom itself, it moved toward the unconscious lad, until scarcely a dozen feet intervened. Then, as if directed by Providence, one of the embers snapped apart, throwing out a sudden flame, which momentarily lit up the surrounding darkness. Like a flash the wolf slunk back, and then, pausing, stood and stared at the lad, licking his jaws as if in anticipation of the feast he expected to enjoy upon him.

As the flames subsided again, and the same gloom crept over the scene, the hideous creature stole up again, resolved to have the meal displayed so temptingly before him. Once more he was within reach, still advancing with jaws distended—ready to leap upon him. The boy slumbered dreamlessly on. Still nearer crept the wolf until Ned was at his mercy.

At this critical juncture, something whizzed from the upper surface of the rock, with the velocity almost of a bullet. It was a tomahawk, which, speeding true to its aim, struck the unsuspicious wolf fairly and with such terrific force that his skull was cloven in twain as completely as if smitten by the headsman's ax. There was scarcely time for the wild yelp as he tumbled over backward. But, such as it was, it aroused Ned, who sprang to his feet and gazed about him with an alarmed and bewildered air. Before he could fairly comprehend what had taken place he saw figures descending and approaching. It was too late to retreat. He was surrounded.

"I'm a goner now!" he muttered.

But as the firelight brightened, he saw the kindly faces of Tom Hardynge and Dick Morris.