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A TERRIBLE NIGHT.
The prospect of being besieged all night in a tree by a pack of mountain wolves was not a pleasant one by any means, and Fred, who had climbed up among the branches with the object of securing a few hours' slumber, found little chance of closing his eyes for even a minute.
"It might have been worse," he reflected, as he listened to the dismal howling, "for if they had happened to come down upon me when I was walking along the ravine, I could n't have gotten into any place like this in time to save me.

Wolves don't know how to climb trees, and so long as I stay here I'm all right; but I can't stay here forever." By-and-by there was a sharp pattering upon the ground, and then the hoarse howling changed to quick, dog-like yelps, such as these animals emit when leaping down upon their prey, and which may be supposed to mean exultation.
Fred came down sufficiently far from his perch to get a glimpse of the ground beneath.

He saw nearly a score of huge mountain wolves, bounding hither and thither, and over each other, and back and forth, as though going through some preliminary exercise, so as to prepare themselves for the feast that was soon to be theirs.
"If I was down there," thought the boy, with a shudder, "I suppose I'd last them about two minutes, and then they'd be hungrier than ever.
They'll stay there all night, but I wonder if they'll go away in the morning.

If they don't, I can't tell what's to become of me." He watched them awhile with a lingering fear that some of them might manage to get among the branches, but they did not make the attempt.
They had sufficient dexterity to leap from the ground up among the lowermost limbs, but had no power of retaining their position, or doing anything after they got there.
Nature had unfitted them for such work, and they did not try it.