“Wolves!” The exclamation came from Joe, and scarcely had he spoken when another howl went up.
“There must be a whole pack of them,” cried Harry. “And if that is so we are bound to have a lively time of it.”
Each young pioneer had placed his gun where he could put his hands upon it, and each caught up his weapon.
The wolves now came closer, and, in their fight among themselves, three of the pack tumbled up against the shelter and broke through the snow piled there.
“Hi! here they come!” ejaculated Joe, and, taking aim at the nearest wolf, he let drive with his rifle.
His aim was true, and the wolf fell back dead.
The report of the rifle caused the wolves to howl louder than ever, and some of them retreated to a position beyond the flicker of the camp-fire. But they now had the scent of blood in their nostrils, and the boys saw that another attack was coming.
“Get a brand from the fire!” shouted Harry, and shot at the nearest of the beasts, sending a second wolf to the ground.
The wolves were now snapping and snarling on all sides, and before Joe could turn to the fire one leaped for him, and fastened his teeth in the heavy coat the youth wore.
Seeing this attack Harry leaped in to the rescue. He had his gun by the barrel, and around came the stock with a sweeping blow that crushed in the beast’s skull.