CHAPTER XIV.
STEP HEN HAS VISIONS OF A FUR COAT.
Thad was already hastily inserting a fresh shell in the left chamber of his little shotgun. He felt fully satisfied that he had done just what Step Hen so vociferously proclaimed, knocked over one of the skulking wolves; but there were more of the same breed around, and presently they would get over the temporary fright caused by the flash of fire, together with the heavy crash, when possibly they might show themselves bolder than ever.
And like a true Boy Scout, Thad Brewster believed in always being prepared. He had really taken that for his motto long before he thought of joining a troop of the scouts; so that much of what he agreed to do when signing the muster roll, lay directly in a line with his own ideas of what a wide-awake boy should be.
“They backed off after that hot reception, Thad,” Step Hen went on. “Oh! I hope I’ll get a chance to pop over just one of the sneaky beasts. I’d like to say I’d shot a real wolf. Think of me, Step Hen Bingham, who up to a year ago had never gone off camping or hunting, with a bear to my credit, a buck actually knocked over, even if it was stole away from me; and now, as the crowning event of all, I want to get a savage wolf, a real Canada wolf.”
“Oh!” said Thad, laughingly; “I don’t know that they’re different from any other kind they have out on the plains; though perhaps they may be a little larger, and ready to attack a man quicker. But perhaps you’d better take the next good chance then, Step Hen.”
“May I, Thad? That’s kind of you. Suppose you give me pointers, then, and tell me just when to blaze away. I want to make a dead sure thing of it.”
“Of the wolf, you mean, I guess,” Thad went on, keeping a bright lookout while he talked. “Well, watch that place where I got my fellow, and I think you’ll soon see something moving.”
“You must mean the rest will be wanting to make a supper off the critter you killed; is that it, Thad? Are they such cannibals as all that?” asked Step Hen.
“Always said to be,” the patrol leader returned, and then quickly added. “Keep on the lookout, and if you see anything moving, tell me. Above all don’t waste ammunition by firing recklessly. We’re not trying to scare ’em off by noise; every shot ought to count for a wolf.”
They lapsed into silence for some little time, during which both boys used their eyes to the best advantage. Several times Step Hen’s eagerness caused him to imagine he had caught a glimpse of a moving object; but upon calling the attention of his more experienced comrade to the spot, in every instance Thad had pronounced it a false alarm.