He remembered, too, that in the middle of the open space there stood an old cabin, in which he might be able to find refuge. But now the wolves rushed at him more and more boldly, snapping in closer and closer proximity to his legs.
Snap! Snap! Nearer and nearer! Instinctively he thrust out his fiddle at them. The jarring of the strings made than leap back. Hope returned. He drew his hand violently across the strings—twang, twang! Instantly the wolves sprang back as if he had fired a gun among them.
He was now at the edge of the open space. He twanged his fiddle—the wolves recoiled. Dick rushed toward the hut with all his speed, raking the strings more violently at every jump, till they rang again.
The astonished wolves paused for a moment on the edge of the open ground, with tails between their legs. But the sight of his flying form renewed their savage instincts. With a loud burst of yells they darted after him at full speed. He reached the hut just as the jaws of the foremost wolf opened to seize him.
He rushed in, and the closing door dashed against the nose of the nearest beast. The door was too rickety to keep the enemy out; but Dick had time to push himself through the broken roof and get on top of the cabin. The wolves were now furious. Rushing into the hut, they jumped and snapped at him, so that Dick almost felt their teeth. It required the greatest activity to keep his legs out of their reach.
Notwithstanding his agonizing terror, he still clung to his fiffle. Now, in desperation, as he was kicking his feet in the air to avoid their steel like fangs, he drew his bow shrieking across the strings. The yells instantly ceased. Dick continued to make the most frightful spasms of sound, but the wolves could not long endure bad fiddling. As soon as the first surprise was over the attack was renewed more furiously than ever.
A monstrous head was now thrust up between the boards of the roof, only a few inches from Dick. He gave himself up for lost. But the excess of terror seemed to stimulate him, so that almost of their own accord his fingers began to play "Yankee-Doodle." Instantly there was complete silence! The silence continued as long as he continued to play; but the moment he ceased the listeners again became furious, and rushed on with increased ferocity.
Uncle Dick's pride as a fiddler was flattered. He entered for awhile completely into the spirit of the thing. But never before had he played to an audience so fond of music. They permitted no pause. His enthusiasm began to give way to cold and fatigue. He was tired to death and almost frozen.
What was to be done? There sat the listeners with tongues lolling and ears pricked up, allowing not a moments pause, but demanding an uninterrupted stream of music. Several weary hours passed, and Uncle Dick was almost exhausted.
But all this while the wedding company had been anxiously expecting their musician. Becoming at last impatient or alarmed, some of them set out in search for him. They found him on top of the hut, still sawing away for for life. The wolves were driven away and Uncle Dick was relieved from his unwilling efforts to charm listeners who got more music than they paid for.