“Sim, it’s a terrible thing to attack this awful critter,” said Boone, with a grave look upon his honest face.
“But the death of poor Lark—”
“Must be avenged!” exclaimed the old hunter, compressing his lips together, firmly.
“That’s so, said Kenton, with a pale face and a throbbing heart, yet with undaunted courage.
“I didn’t see as he had any we’pons, but ef he’s the devil, he don’t need any. Come on, we’ll give him a tussle, anyway. Lord, I wish I could remember a prayer or two,” said Boone, seriously.
Then with cautious steps they followed on the trail of the Wolf Demon.
The singular being pursued the same path returning that he had taken when coming through the wood.
He moved so slow that the two in pursuit followed him without difficulty.
Every now and then he halted for a moment and then again went on.
His steps became irregular. The hunters, following close behind, noticed that he was reeling like a drunken man.