The boy was up in an instant, maddened by his fall, and full of fight. Without trying to recover his gun which had fallen several feet away, he rushed to the pile of fire-wood, seized a heavy club, and brought it down again and again on the head of the crippled beast, until he had pounded out the last spark of life. Then, when it was all over, he stood trembling and weak, overcome by his efforts and the excitement.
A moment later he ran to the dogs and, regardless of Martin’s orders, turned them loose. He wanted them to share his victory, and stood laughing and gulping hysterically as he watched them rush upon the lifeless victims, and tear and maul them with wolfish ferocity. It was no fault of theirs that they had not shared the fight, and they vented their animosity by rushing from one victim to another, jerking the limp carcasses about, and shaking them like rats.
Meanwhile it had grown dark; and still no sign of Martin. For a little time after the battle Larry had stood forgetful of the old man’s absence, reveling in the thought of the story he should have to tell. But presently he realized the seriousness of his position. He no longer feared for his own safety: he and his little gun could “tend camp” against all comers he felt sure. But what was keeping Martin away so long?
He consoled himself with the thought that probably the old man had followed some game trail farther than he intended and was unable to get back before nightfall. So when the dogs had tired themselves out worrying the dead wolves, Larry tied them up and ate his cheerless supper. This revived his spirits a little, and he put into effect a plan he had made for surprising Martin. For this purpose he dragged the carcasses of the wolves together and covered them with boughs so that the old man would not notice them when he returned. At the right time the boy would tell his story and revel in Martin’s astonishment.
Then he built up a roaring fire, crawled into his sleeping bag and tried to sleep. But after two hours of restless tossing about, his mind filled with gloomy forebodings, he got up and seated himself beside the fire for his long vigil.
It was a terrible night for the boy. The thought that Martin might have been injured, or even killed, kept obtruding itself, and he shuddered at the awful consequences of such a calamity. He reassured himself over and over by the more probable explanation that the old man had gone farther from camp than he intended. But the other possibility could not be banished from his thoughts. And so he sat before his roaring fire, a big dog snuggling against him on either side, comforting his loneliness.
CHAPTER X
THE WOUNDED MOOSE
In this way he passed the long, terrible hours of the night. But as soon as it began to grow light he untied the dogs, and took a circle of several miles through the woods, hoping that he might find some trace of the missing hunter. But he remembered the old man’s instruction that he was not to leave the camp to go any very great distance, and after two hours of futile search he returned in despair.
The dogs, seeming to realize that something was wrong, were alert to every unusual sound; and when Larry would spring up and peer through the trees expectantly, they would leap about and bark excitedly. But the sun rose higher and higher, and still Martin did not come.
At last the boy could stand the suspense no longer. In defiance of Martin’s explicit instructions he decided to leave the camp and try to find him. The thought that the old man must have been injured, or taken ill, kept forcing itself into the boy’s mind. An experienced hunter like Martin would not lose his way; and moreover, if he should become confused, he would still have his own trail to follow back to camp; for this trail was well marked in the snow. In any event, Larry could not remain inactive any longer with these terrible fears tearing at his heart.