Suddenly one of the hunters rose. Gripping his spear firmly with his teeth, he crouched for an instant, then leapt into the air.
The amazing height of his leap staggered the watchers, while rousing a grudging admiration.
“The brute must have sinews like watch-springs!” Seymour whispered, then——
A swift, upward flash of the great palmated antlers, a sound like the ripping of sacking, and, with a fearful death-cry, the daring leaper pitched heavily to the ground.
The elk had drawn first blood!
But it was his last effort in a hopeless struggle. Quick as lightning another of the elk-hunters sprang.
High above the bull’s drooping head he leapt, and, ere the ill-fated animal could make another move, the wolfish creature was upon his back, stabbing out his life with his great spear.
A few moments of feeble struggling, and then the elk fell with a crash, the life-blood pouring from his severed arteries.
Scarcely was he down ere the waiting four were upon him, rending the still quivering flesh with their great nails.
“Poor brute!” Seymour muttered compassionately; “let those demons have it, Silas.”