It took over an hour to reach the ruins of the Chelingworth cabin—one of the first erected in that territory and burnt four times before it was finally abandoned. As they passed the ruins Sam Barringford came to a halt.
"Listen!" he said briefly.
All did so, and at a distance heard a sudden yelping, which gradually increased.
"Wolves!" cried Henry.
"You are right," answered the old frontiersman. "Reckon they have come back to finish their work."
"Let us drive them off," put in Dave, with a shudder. "If there is anything left of the man, we ought to give him a decent burial."
"Yes, lad, I agree; but there ain't much left but bones."
All pushed forward and soon reached the spot where Sam Barringford had made his strange discovery. Five wolves were close by, sniffing eagerly through the snow, and more were in the rear.
"I've my shot-gun," said Dave. "Shall I give 'em a dose?"
"Yes," answered Barringford, and taking aim at two of the foremost wolves, the youth pulled the trigger of his weapon. The report was followed by a mad yelp of pain, and both wolves went down, one dead and the other badly wounded. The other wolves then ran off with all possible speed.