There was a moment of suspense, and then bang! went the charge in the venison, causing several of the wolves to fall back badly wounded. An instant later crack! crack! went the two shotguns of the young hunters.
When the smoke cleared away it was found that three of the wolves were dead, and two others were seriously, if not mortally, wounded. The slaughter thoroughly scared those which remained, and in a twinkling they turned and disappeared into the forest, some howling and yelping as they ran.
“That is the time we did it!” cried Joe. “They’ve learned a lesson they won’t forget.”
“Will they come back?”
“I hardly think so. Runnell told me once that when a wolf is thoroughly scared he’ll run for miles before he stops.”
The wounded beasts were drawing away as fast as their hurts would permit, and in a few minutes only the dead animals were in sight. With caution the young hunters descended to the ground and looked around among the trees.
“They are gone, that’s certain,” announced Joe. “I don’t believe we’ll see or hear of them again.”
By this time it had begun to snow a little. Now that the enemy were gone each found himself hungry.
“We’ll get a hasty meal, and then start for camp,” said Harry. “I shan’t feel perfectly safe until I’m back with the others.”
But as the meal progressed they grew calmer, and even examined the dead wolves with interest.