With a howl of terror, the Shawnees scattered in fear, tumbling over each other in their fright.
Two quick and powerful strokes of the keen-edged tomahawk, and two more Shawnees were sent to the happy hunting-grounds.
Swift as the hunted deer ran the Wolf Demon through the Indian village.
The warriors, recovering a little from their fright, and with the boldness that the sense of overpowering numbers gives, followed in pursuit.
The yells of the Indians rung out shrill on the still night-air.
Increasing in speed at every stride, the Wolf Demon headed for the thicket.
Far in the rear followed the warriors.
With a hoarse yell of defiance, the terrible figure gained the shelter of the wood, and disappeared within its shadows.
On the borders of the wood the Indians halted. All the village had been aroused by the terrible outcry, and great was the wonder and alarm of the Shawnees when they learned that the terrible Wolf Demon had been in their midst.
After a short consultation, the warriors entered the thicket. But ten paces within the wood all traces of the passage of the Wolf Demon vanished. He had disappeared as utterly as if the earth had opened and swallowed him.