The realization that he was utterly alone in the great wilderness with darkness at hand, and a pack of wolves howling at his open door made the boy chill with terror. Instinctively he sought shelter behind the fire near the dogs, who welcomed him with appreciative whines. They looked upon him as a protector, and their faith helped his courage. Martin’s instruction to “give ’em the thirty-eight” also cheered him, and he took out the little gun and prepared for battle.
“Every wolf is a coward,” the old hunter had said; but these wolves were not acting like cowards at all. They did not rush forward boldly, it was true, but they were stealthily drawing nearer, snarling and bristling. They would stand pawing and sniffing the snow for a few moments as if the object of their visit was entirely forgotten. Then one of them would suddenly spring forward two or three short steps, and the whole crew would stand snapping their jaws and glaring savagely at the camp. In this way they were deliberately closing in upon it.
This method of approaching by short rushes was most disconcerting and terrifying, and several times Larry decided to open fire without waiting for the wolves to emerge from the shelter of the trees. But each time his better judgment restrained him.
When they had approached to within the circle of the nearest trees, however, he decided to act. Holding some cartridges in his left hand for quick loading, as Martin had taught him, he knelt beside the fire, rested his elbow on his knee, and tried to take careful aim. But his hand trembled, and his heart pounded so hard, that the sights of his rifle bobbed all about the mark he had selected. The more he tried to steady the rifle the more it seemed to waver and dance about, so that he knew it would be useless to fire.
At that moment the story of Weewah, the Indian boy, flashed into his mind—the little savage who fought with a hatchet, while he, the white boy, had his hard-hitting rifle and plenty of cartridges. He lowered the gun for a moment, and steadied himself with a few deep breaths, shutting his eyes and summoning all his courage. When he opened them he found that his hand was steadier and the pounding in his breast had almost ceased.
Meanwhile the wolves had spread out forming a restless semicircle before the camp. There were three gray ones, and one huge fellow almost pure white. Larry selected this white one for his first victim. Resting his elbow again on his knee he took careful aim, waiting for the restless wolf to pause for an instant. The moment the huge animal stopped to snarl fiercely at the camp, Larry pressed the trigger and fired.
At the sound of the report three of the wolves gave a startled leap sidewise, and then crouched forward again as they recovered from their surprise. But the white wolf sank in the snow where it stood, and lay still: the little bullet had “knocked him dead in his tracks” sure enough. With a gulp of exultation Larry slipped in a fresh cartridge and aimed carefully at a wolf that was a little in advance of the other two. Again his aim was true; but this wolf did not drop silently as had the white one. Instead he gave a howl of pain and rolled in the snow, turning it red all about him in his death struggles.
The other two wolves had leaped back at the flash and sound of the rifle as before. But at the sight and smell of their companion’s blood they rushed upon him, tearing and gashing him in their lust, and sucking his blood ravenously. Jack and Kim, made frantic by the struggle, added their furious but impotent howls to the uproar in their frenzied efforts to free themselves. While Larry, forgetful of personal danger in the excitement, sprang up and approached the struggling group, meanwhile inserting a fresh cartridge, and despatched the third wolf as he crouched wallowing in his companion’s blood.
The remaining wolf had paid no attention to the report that struck down his mate; but now as the boy paused to take careful aim, the huge creature, maddened by the taste of blood, turned suddenly and rushed upon him. There was no time to retreat, even if Larry had wished to do so. But he had no such intention, for the hot blood of fighting ancestors was now surging through his veins. With the coolness of a veteran the boy aimed and fired just as the gray monster shot through the air in his final spring toward him. The next instant his coat sleeve was ripped open clean to the shoulder by the furious snap of the animal’s jaws, and he was knocked headlong by the impact of the creature’s body.
Fortunately for him his bullet had found its mark, breaking the wolf’s back just as the animal leaped from the ground, and thus diverting the aim of its deadly jaws, while the force of its spring knocked Larry out of the wounded creature’s reach. Its hind legs were paralyzed and useless, but its jaws snapped viciously as it struggled to reach its foe on its fore legs.