Marian and Lilian.
Passing outward from the door, the two young girls pause in their steps: an object has attracted their attention. A large dog is seen running out from the shed—a gaunt fierce-looking animal, that answers to the very appropriate name of “Wolf.” He approaches the sisters, and salutes them with an unwilling wag of his tail. It seems as though he could not look pleased, even while seeking a favour—for this is evidently the purpose that has brought him forth from his lair.
He appeals more especially to the older of the girls—Marian.
“Ho, Wolf! I see your sides are thin, old fellow: you want your breakfast! What can we give him, Lil?”
“Indeed, sister, I know not: there is nothing for the poor dog.”
“There is some deer-meat inside?”
“Ah! I fear father will not allow Wolf to have that. I heard him say he expected one to take dinner with him to-day? You know who?”
An arch smile accompanies this half-interrogatory; but, for all that, the words do not appear to produce a pleasant effect. On the contrary, a shade is observable on the brow of her to whom they are addressed.
“Yes, I do know. Well, he shall not dine with me. ’Tis just for that I’ve brought out my rifle. To-day, I intend to make my dinner in the woods, or go without, and that’s more likely. Never fear, Wolf! you shall have your breakfast; whether I get my dinner or not. Now, for the life of me, Lil, I don’t know what we can give the poor brute. Those buzzards are just within range. I could bring one of them down; but the filthy creatures, ugh! even a dog won’t eat them.”
“See, sister! yonder is a squirrel. Wolf will eat squirrels, I know: but, ah! it’s a pity to kill the little creature.”