Suddenly he paused, thinking for a moment that he heard shouting at a distance, but he listened for a long time, and heard no more, and continued his walk slowly and wearily, quite unable to repress his fast falling tears. He was so very tired, so hungry, and so cold, it was with the utmost difficulty he could force his way through the coarse grass. Very often too he was startled by some prowling animal, and thought with horror of all the tales he had read of boys being torn to pieces by wild beasts. He especially remembered one he had read in an old primer, of little Harry who was eaten by lions for saying "I won't" to his mother. He was thankful to know, that there were no lions on the prairies, and that he had never said "I won't," to his mother, but he very much feared he had said things just as bad, and that prairie wolves, or even a stray bear, might be lying in wait to devour him for it.