2a2 A JACOBITE EXILE

“Well, I have never felt the cold in these clothes,”
Charlie said.

“No, sir, but you have never been out at night sitting
cramped on a tree.”’

Hour after hour passed. Even in the darkness they
could see the wolves lying in the snow below them, occa-
sionally changing their position, keeping close together for
warmth, and often snarling or growling angrily as one or
two shifted their position and tried to squeeze in so as to
get into a warm spot.

The cold was intense, and in spite of swinging his legs
and arms Charlie felt that his vital heat was decreasing.

“This is awful, Stanislas. I do not think we can last on
till morning.”

“I begin to have doubts myself, sir. Perhaps it would
be better to leap down and make a fight of it.” 4

“We might shoot some of them first,” Charlie said.
“How many charges have you?”

“T have only two besides one in the barrel.”

“And I have only three,” Charlie said. “Powder has
run very short; the captain was saying yesterday that we
must send to the village and try to get some more. _ Still
six shots will help us.”

“Not much, sir, there must be thirty or forty of them
now. I have seen some come from the other way. I
suppose they were part of the pack that followed the
horses.”

Charlie sat for some time thinking. Then he exclaimed:
“T think this is a dead tree.”

“It is, sir; I noticed it when we climbed up. The head
has gone, and I think it must have been struck with light-
ning last summer.”

“Then I think we can manage.”

“Manage what, sir?” the man asked in surprise.

“Manage to make a fire, Stanislas. [First of all we will