Just to try the effects of a shot, both took careful aim, each at a big wolf. The beasts went down, one killed outright and the other mortally wounded. The rest of the pack retreated for a few minutes, then came forward as before.
“See, they are eating up the dead one!” said Henry, and it was true. The carcass was hauled and pulled and torn apart, the wolves fighting greedily over the pieces. The wounded wolf crawled off in the snow and later followed the fate of the other.
After firing the two shots the young hunters reloaded as before and sat down among the tree-branches to consider the situation. It was about noon, and both were hungry.
“We are fortunate in having some rations along,” remarked Dave. “But it will be dry eating, without a drink of water.”
However, they ate their meal, taking their time, as there seemed nothing else to do. In the meantime, the wolves sat around the tree in a wide circle, watching them intently. There would be a spell of silence, then one of the number would growl or snap and in a moment the whole pack would be at it. Then another silence would follow.
“This is certainly growing interesting,” observed Dave, as he swallowed the last of his food. “I’d give a sixpence for a drink of water.”
“And two shillings to have the wolves go away,” added Henry, with a grin. “Dave, perhaps we are booked to stay here all night.”
“It will be a cold roosting-place. As it is I am pretty cold.”
To keep warm they slapped their arms across their chests, and hammered their heels against the tree-trunk. In doing this Dave suddenly slipped and fell.
“Look out!” cried his cousin, and made a clutch at him. Both went down, one on one side of a limb and one on the other. Henry had Dave by the arm, and there they hung for a moment, with the wolves below, leaping up and snapping as never before.