When the big cake had been cut and divided among the guests, Wetzel discovered the gold ring within his share.  He presented the ring to Betty, and gave his privilege of kissing Susan to George Reynolds, with the remark:  “George, I calkilate Susan would like it better if you do the kissin’ part.”  Now it was known to all that George had long been an ardent admirer of Susan’s, and it was suspected that she was not indifferent to him.  Nevertheless, she protested that it was not fair.  George acted like a man who had the opportunity of his life.  Amid uproarious laughter he ran Susan all over the room, and when he caught her he pulled her hands away from her blushing face and bestowed a right hearty kiss on her cheek.  To everyone’s surprise and to Wetzel’s discomfiture, Susan walked up to him and saying that as he had taken such an easy way out of it she intended to punish him by kissing him.  And so she did.  Poor Lewis’ face looked the picture of dismay.  Probably he had never been kissed before in his life.

Happy hours speed away on the wings of the wind.  The feasting over, the good-byes were spoken, the girls were wrapped in the warm robes, for it was now intensely cold, and soon the horses, eager to start on the long homeward journey, were pulling hard on their bits.  On the party’s return trip there was an absence of the hilarity which had prevailed on their coming.  The bells were taken off before the sleds left the blockhouse, and the traces and the harness examined and tightened with the caution of men who were apprehensive of danger and who would take no chances.

In winter time the foes most feared by the settlers were the timber wolves.  Thousands of these savage beasts infested the wild forest regions which bounded the lonely roads, and their wonderful power of scent and swift and tireless pursuit made a long night ride a thing to be dreaded.  While the horses moved swiftly danger from wolves was not imminent; but carelessness or some mishap to a trace or a wheel had been the cause of more than one tragedy.

Therefore it was not remarkable that the drivers of our party breathed a sigh of relief when the top of the last steep hill had been reached.  The girls were quiet, and tired out and cold they pressed close to one another; the men were silent and watchful.

When they were half way home and had just reached the outskirts of the Black Forest the keen ear of Wetzel caught the cry of a wolf.  It came from the south and sounded so faint that Wetzel believed at first that he had been mistaken.  A few moments passed in which the hunter turned his ear to the south.  He had about made up his mind that he had only imagined he had heard something when the unmistakable yelp of a wolf came down on the wind.  Then another, this time clear and distinct, caused the driver to turn and whisper to Wetzel.  The hunter spoke in a low tone and the driver whipped up his horses.  From out the depths of the dark woods along which they were riding came a long and mournful howl.  It was a wolf answering the call of his mate.  This time the horses heard it, for they threw back their ears and increased their speed.  The girls heard it, for they shrank closer to the men.