At that moment, just in front of the house, and, as it seemed to both, close by, there was a long-drawn howl.
"It's wolves, not Tartars," said Talabor, much relieved.
"Oh! then make haste and fasten the door!"
"They won't come in here," said Talabor, as he put the door to. It had been left uninjured by the fire, but its locks and bolts were all too rusty to be of the smallest use. There was a heavy little oak table which had survived the rest of the furniture, however, and this Talabor pushed up against it, saying, "The fire is our best protection against such visitors as these; but dawn is not far off now, and perhaps it would be better not to wait for it before we move on. I should not care to have them taking up their quarters in the yard."
"What are you going to do?" exclaimed Dora, in alarm, "surely you are not going to provoke them?"
"No! and if I should annoy one of them, he will not be able to do much harm after it!"
"I forbid you to do anything rash! You are not to risk your life, Talabor. You are to sit still here, if you don't want to make me angry."
Dora's vehemence was charming, but Talabor never did anything without reflection; and he was not going to have her life imperilled by any ill-timed submission on his own part.
"You may be quite easy," he said, "I am not going to stir from here, and they are not going to come in either!"
The wolves meantime had been drawing nearer and nearer, to judge by their howls. Perhaps they had scented the smoke, and expected to find the dead bodies of men or cattle, as they commonly did in every burning village in those days.