Eric awoke because the intensity of the cold was eating into his bones. The fire had died down, only a faint glow remained under the ashes; and there, oh horror!... seated on the other side of the small smouldering heap that once had been their protection, sat a great tawny wolf with eyes that looked straight into his, two tiny specks of phosphorescent green.

The awful beast lifted its head and gave a long-drawn, unearthly yell that echoed round the silence like the crying of a tormented soul in great agony; again and again he sent out his ghastly call, and now he was answered by other calls coming from every part of that fearful forest. The silent thickets gave forth from their secret depths stealthy pattering forms, slinking along, flashing their teeth, their tongues lolling from their dripping mouths.

A late moon had risen above the peak of the mountain, and was now throwing her pale rays over the bleached opening that spread before the young man's feet, so that he could clearly see how these wraiths assembled from all sides, called together by the baying of their leader.

So fascinated was Gundian by what he saw that for a while the immense danger he ran was almost forgotten; only the frightened cry of the child, who had awakened to see the awful creature staring at her with glistening eyes, brought him back to the reality of things.

His exhausted condition, the heavy drowsiness produced by the cold that was gradually penetrating through all his veins, had thrown a torpor over his senses, so that all appeared as in a dream.

He returned the green stare of his opponent, unable to make an effort to throw off the weakness that imprisoned his frozen limbs.

The crumbling fire was dying out more and more; the last glowing twigs fell together with a faint fizzing sound, that made the leading monster rise in fear and move back a few steps, still kept in awe by the narrow frontier of heat that alone separated him from his victims.

For one more deadly moment there was a pulsing silence and then ... the beast sprang with a great leap on the seated man.

In a moment Eric was on his feet, sword in hand, throwing himself before the terrified child, that at all costs he meant to protect! And with a furious blow, although he had been quite unprepared for so sudden an attack, he split the skull of his raging enemy.

Eric had never used arms before; war had not been his vocation; he loved peace and pleasure and all things that make life beautiful and sweet.

But now he stood up like a tried warrior, his blade flashing under the rays of the moon; alone he advanced against the ferocious beasts that all rushed in upon him with sudden rage to avenge their fallen chief.

He knew not from whence he took his strength; but he stood before them like a figure cast in bronze, defending himself, keeping them at bay with the point of his precious sword. But for each savage animal that fell beneath his frantic defence another seemed to spring up in its place—always more and more, till their baying filled the silent night with hideous clamour.

Hell seemed to have opened its doors. All round Eric and the child, who was crouching in an agony of fear close behind him, were blazing eyes, sharpened fangs, ravenous bleeding jaws, a medley of dark fighting bodies falling over each other with angry yells, as they one and all rallied against the single youthful hero, who stood facing them, the blood streaming from the blade of his sword.

Blood fell also in great dark drops from his lacerated hands, where more than one murderous tooth had left its mark. His pale brow was streaked with red; from off his shoulder his coat had been partially wrenched, and a great gash gaped through the torn tissue.

Still he stood his ground; many a rugged body lay dead at his feet, but always more roaring foes seemed to descend upon him, a whole army of hungry, voracious fiends that had sworn his destruction.

His force was giving out, he clearly felt that the unequal battle could last no longer; only a miracle could now save them both.

His arm became inert; the blood flowed from the open wound in his head in a trickling stream down into his eyes, clouding his sight, so that he could no longer direct his strokes.

Yes, all was over now; he was not to be of those who win.... This was to be the end ... the end.... But what was this? From beneath his clenched fingers a dazzling glare had suddenly broken forth—a glare so intense and blinding that for a moment he could see nothing but its luminous rays! Had really a miracle come to pass? Was he dreaming? But no ... his awful assailants were rapidly retreating with furious groans, as if unable to bear the sight of the thing he held in his hand!

What was it that suddenly cowed their savage force? Then all at once he understood.... The crystal hilt of his sword was blazing with light!

He fell on his knees, his forehead pressed against the shining cross, his eyes closed, his head bent in awful fatigue. But peace had come over him—a great and wonderful peace. The beasts of prey were backing, always farther, from this awesome light that had so miraculously fallen upon them.

With hanging heads they retreated, their piercing eyes fixed upon the fiery symbol they dared not face. They backed and backed, till they were but a mass of darkness, out of which their eyes glowed like a circle of Easter tapers held by pious hands in adoration before that cross of flame. Alone in the middle of that moonlit glade knelt Eric, quite still, as in a trance; the point of his sword had reddened the snow on the ground; the hilt seemed fashioned out of the stars of heaven.

The moon looked down upon his golden locks, transforming them into a mass of silver; even his torn and travel-stained clothes were turned into glowing metal like a knight of olden days.

From the shadow of the giant trees the little girl came slowly forward, and on reaching the spot where Eric prayed with lowered brow, she, too, fell on her knees and advancing her innocent lips kissed the blade of the sword.