"Come, Chewannick, we must find my lamb!"
Unnoticed by her mother, who was busy in the yard, Elizabeth led the Indian boy over the well trodden path to the woods. Already the sun had dropped, but on and on the children went until they paused to listen. From the far-distance came a faint cry like that of a child.
"It is my precious, black woolly lamb!" cried Elizabeth, frantically. "It is in the thorn bushes!"
Farther still they pushed into the woods, hardly noticing how dark the shadows were growing. The cry seemed close at hand.
"Yes, here's my darling lamb!" Elizabeth tugged at the poor little thing, caught by its woolly fleece in the long sharp thorns of a bush.
"Help, Chewannick, pull hard!"
Great tufts of black wool were left on the bush, but the frightened little creature was freed at last.
The woods seemed very dark by that time, as they half pulled, half carried the lamb homeward. Darker still it grew. Howls could be heard in the distance. The children hurried on. Suddenly a wolf barked on their very trail. They were then within sight of the house, but with horror they saw that the gate was closed. The hastening wolf had caught the scent of the lamb. The children tried to shout, but they could make no sound.
Chewannick bounded ahead. With desperate force he sprang upon the fence, grasped the top, and fairly fell over the other side. He had the door unbarred for Elizabeth and the lamb, as the fiery eyes of the wolf could be seen but a few rods up the path. The gate was closed in time to shut the creature out, while Elizabeth's surprised mother caught up her little girl as if she feared the wolf might even then spring through the bolted door.