Although the wolves snarled viciously, they did not as yet make any attempt to approach the four boys. Instead, while two sniffed at the clothing on the rocks, turning it over with their noses and paws, the others loped over to the supplies.
This was more than the horses could stand, and, plunging wildly, one after another broke his tether and shot off out of sight along the mountainside.
“Good-by to the horses!” cried Fred. “Now we sure are in a pickle even if we can manage to get rid of those wolves.”
“They’re coming this way!” yelled Randy.
“Pick up as many loose stones as you can carry,” ordered Jack. “Then wade out into the lake. I guess it’s about the only thing we can do.”
Three of the wolves were advancing around the arm of the lake in the direction of the boys. Evidently they were exceedingly hungry, for otherwise they would have run away at the sight of human beings.
Small stones were handy, and it did not take the four boys long to pick up half a dozen each. Then they waded out in the lake until they were in water up to their waists. By this time the three wolves had reached the flat rock on which the youths had been resting. They snarled repeatedly, showing their fangs, and their eyes gleamed in a manner that indicated they would like nothing better than to get hold of the lads and make a meal of them.
[“Let ’em have a dose of rocks!” cried Jack.] “Be careful how you throw! Don’t waste your ammunition!”
