They turned and fled, but presently
they were back again. Again I frightened them away, and again
they returned. I had flint and steel and tinder box; when I had
scared them from us a third time, and they had gone only a little
way, I lit a splinter of pine, and with it fired my heap of wood;
then dragged Diccon into the light and sat down beside him, with
no longer any fear of the wolves, but with absolute confidence in
the quick appearance of less cowardly foes. There was wood
enough and to spare; when the fire sank low and the hungry eyes
gleamed nearer, I fed it again, and the flame leaped up and
mocked the eyes.
No human enemy came upon us. The fire blazed and roared, and
the man who lay in its rosy glare raved on, crying out now and then
at the top of his voice; but on that night of all nights, of all years,
light and voice drew no savage band to put out the one and silence
the other forever.
Hours passed, and as it drew toward midnight Diccon sank into a
stupor. I knew that the end was not far away. The wolves were
gone at last, and my fire was dying down. He needed my touch
upon his breast no longer, and I went to the stream and bathed my
hands and forehead, and then threw myself face downward upon
the bank. In a little while the desolate murmur of the water became
intolerable, and I rose and went back to the fire, and to the man
whom, as God lives, I loved as a brother.
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