We all stood about the fire listening as the wolves came nearer.
"It 's the sheep thet brings 'em," said my father.
"Quite a consid'able number on 'em, tew," said D'ri, as he stood cleaning the bore of his rifle.
My young sisters began to cry.
"Need n't be scairt," said father. "They won't come very near.
'Fraider of us 'n we are o' 'em, a good deal."
"Tow-w-w!" said D'ri, with a laugh. "They 'll be apt t' stub ther toes 'fore they git very nigh us."
This did not quite agree with the tales he had previously been telling. I went for my sword, and buckled its belt about me, the scabbard hanging to my heels. Presently some creature came bounding over the brush. I saw him break through the wall of darkness and stop quickly in the firelight. Then D'ri brought him down with his rifle.
"Started him up back there 'n the woods a few mild," said D'ri.
"He was mekin' fer this 'ere pond—thet 's what he was dewin'."
"What for?" I inquired.
"'Cause fer the reason why he knowed he would n't mek no tracks 'n the water, ner no scent," said D'ri, with some show of contempt for my ignorance.