The journey across the lake was made without incident, but scarcely had they struck the mainland when a distant howl greeted their ears.
“What is that?” came from Harry.
“It’s the howl of a wolf,” answered his brother. “I shouldn’t wonder but what he has scented the deer meat.”
“If he has we may have some trouble in getting the deer home.”
“Oh, I guess we can easily take care of one wolf.”
“But there may be more, Joe. Wolves generally travel in packs, you know.”
“Yes, but I don’t hear any others.”
“He may be calling his mates.”
They moved forward up the rise, and presently came in sight of the game. Under the tree where the deer was strung up sat two wolves, gazing wistfully at the meat.
“Two of them here, and one below!” cried Joe. “That makes three.”