It was a cheerless outlook, however, for the snow came down through the roofless top of the cabin the same as if they were out doors.
Will adjusted some logs to form a kind of shelter, however, and then for some time listened to the noises from the outside.
The wolves were baying and snarling and tearing at the logs as if hungry for their expected prey.
These sounds died away after a while, the animals seeming to abandon their assault on the cabin as useless.
“They have gone off on a new trail,” said Will; but half an hour later his theory seemed to be an incorrect one.
Far in the distance the baying began again, came nearer and nearer, and sounded more vicious in its echoing tones than before.
“I wonder what it means,” spoke Tom.
“They seem to be coming to the cabin again,” said Will. “Why, one of them is tearing at the logs.”
A scraping sound emanated from the outside as Will spoke.
“Yes, and the wolf is reaching the top. Oh, Will, we are lost! Look!”