wherever else the pursuit might have led it had failed to follow the direction he had taken. At least until daylight came he was safe.
He stopped suddenly. The woods seemed to open out ahead of him as into a clearing of some sort. He listened a moment, and then went cautiously forward again—to find that it was a road. He halted at the edge of the woods, assured himself that the road was deserted, prepared to start across it—and abruptly drew back a few feet into the shadow of the trees. To his right, the road ran straight through the woods and he could see along it for quite a distance; but just at his left it was hidden by a turn, and from this latter direction there came the sound of horse's hoofs and the rattle of wheels.
There might be time to cross the road before the approaching team came around the bend, but it was foolhardy to take even a chance of being seen. Varge sat down on the ground, leaned his back against a tree and waited for the team to pass. Quite close to the edge of the road, he could see out with little difficulty and he kept his eyes fastened on the turn.
The clatter of hoofs, the crunch of wheels drew nearer, a horse came into view—and then Varge was on his feet. Through a tangle of wild raspberry bushes at the side of the road a dog rushed at him, yelping and barking madly. The team stopped instantly, and a man, leaping from the buggy, came running forward.
"Down, Briggs! You confounded imp of Satan, down!" shouted a voice.
A foot from Varge, fore paws wide apart, his head straight out on a level with his back, quivering with
