Now his quivering changed its character to certainty and rapture. Most surely he had caught a fleeting glimpse of some object that was slowly and cautiously creeping up toward the slumbering campfire.
A wolf—just one of the precious pack that had bothered him in his late dream—but then he had only himself to consider, whereas now it meant three separate human lives in peril. How his teeth gritted as he mentally called the slinking beast every opprobrious name he could think of, his finger meanwhile playing with the trigger that, once pulled, would start the long line of cartridges contained in the endless belt to discharging like a pack of firecrackers popping to commemorate the birthday of the good old U. S. A.
Yes, there could be no longer any doubt—he had not deceived himself after all, as he was beginning to suspect. Now the thing had ceased to move and was starting to rise up on all four legs, as though to be in readiness to answer the call of the pack leader when it came time to charge.
“It’s goodbye to you, sneaker and robber on four legs!” muttered Perk grimly as he put the butt of the gun up to his shoulder, covered the half seen figure, and pressed the trigger.
A burst of firing instantly followed as the mechanical gun commenced to bombard the particular spot where Perk had discovered the first of the oncoming pack. The reports came thick and fast, following on each others’ heels and so it would continue to the end of the string unless Perk himself stopped the mechanism.
By the time he had thrown half a dozen leaden messengers at that one point, he felt he had effectually rid the world of one thief and marauder for which he should have the thanks of every decent person. Then Perk started to swing his arm from left to right, fully anticipating seeing a host of monster companions of his initial victim bounding forward and coming within range of the line of fire from his still spitting machine gun.
Nothing of the sort greeted his astonished eyes—in fact there was not the first sign of a single monster raider—only Jack indignantly bawling him out and demanding to know what in the devil he meant arousing the entire camp with such a racket, and spoiling the rest of the night for sleep.
So Perk instantly shut off the deadly stream of fire that was expected to slay the whole pack of fiendish wolves as he swung his gun around with a circular movement.
“Whatever ailed you Perk, to set that thing going like mad?” Jack demanded, as he scrambled out of his enfolding blanket and advanced toward his chum, keeping a nervous eye on the gun meanwhile as if afraid Perk, whom he believed had been dreaming, would start it going again.
“Wolves—heaps an’ heaps o’ ’em—dreamed they had me cornered, with on’y a club to hold the pack off—then I woke up, and sure as you live, they was acomin’ right in on us—saw one whoppin’ big feller right over yonder an’ let him have the whole works. Looky yourself Jack—honest to goodness he’s lyin’ right there where I knocked him cold.”