CHAPTER IV
THE RIDE FOR LIFE
The night was clear, with a touch of frost in the air, yet with the feeling in it of approaching spring. A dim light fell over the forest from the half-moon and the stars, and seemed to fill up the little clearing in which the manse stood, with a weird and mysterious radiance. Far away in the forest the long-drawn howl of a wolf rose and fell, and in a moment sharp and clear came an answer from the bush just at hand. Mrs. Murray dreaded the wolves, but she was no coward and scorned to show fear.
"The wolves are out, Ranald," she said, carelessly, as Ranald came up with the pony.
"They are not many, I think," answered the boy as carelessly; "but—are you—do you think—perhaps I could just take the medicine—and you will come—"
"Nonsense, Ranald! bring up the pony. Do you think I have lived all this time in Indian Lands to be afraid of a wolf?"
"Indeed, you are not afraid, I know that well!" Ranald shrank from laying the crime of being afraid at the door of the minister's wife, whose fearlessness was proverbial in the community; "but maybe—" The truth was, Ranald would rather be alone if the wolves came out.
