But they now had no time to think over the matter. Jack was determined to kill the wolf under Harry’s tree. He saw to it that his gun was ready for use, and then dropped down into the snow.
He had hardly gone a dozen steps when the wolf saw him and made a rush forward. Taking hasty aim, Jack fired.
The shot struck the wolf in the side, wounding him just sufficiently to make him still more ugly. He flew at Jack with wonderful ferocity, knocking the boy off his feet and sending him flat on his back.
Through the tree branches Harry saw the disaster and his companion’s great peril. With a half-suppressed cry of horror he leaped to the ground and caught up his own gun.
The wolf paused for a moment when he saw that he was to be attacked in the rear. Then he again turned and flew at Jack’s leg.
But ere he could bury his teeth into the flesh Harry hit him a resounding crack on the side with the stock of his gun. The blow, delivered with all strength, knocked the wolf away several feet.
Jack turned over and leaped to his feet. Then the wolf came at both boys.
For about ten seconds it looked as if the boys would have a hard time of it. The wolf was wary and took no chances. He was watching for an opportunity to leap at the throat of one or the other.
Finally he sprang at Jack, but just then came an unexpected shot from one side. It was so close it caused the wolf to drop almost at the boy’s feet. He gave a yelp, turned over once or twice, and was dead.
They looked around and saw Pickles standing there, a smoking shotgun in his hands, and grinning from ear to ear.