Hardly had the first carcass gone down than the live wolves were on it, rending and tearing it apart in a mad fury to get the meat.
“I’m glad it’s that meat instead of ourselves,” was Harry’s comment, and he gave a shudder.
The dead wolves disposed of, they returned to the camp-fire, and while Joe piled on what was left of the wood Harry cut more, so that the blaze might not die down even for a moment.
“Wild beasts hate fire worse than anything else,” said Joe. “A good blaze will prove our greatest protection.”
For over an hour they saw nothing more of the wolves, for each of the pack had gotten his portion of the dead ones, and was disposing of it greedily.
But now came a howl from a distance, and this drew closer slowly. The scent of blood was in the air, and another pack had found it and was tracing it to its source.
“More wolves are coming!” ejaculated Joe, and now his face turned pale. “Oh, Harry, do you think there will be too many for us?”
“Let us make a half-circle of the fire and get in it,” was the reply. “I think we can keep them off if we try.”
A little later came a fierce howling from the hollow. The second pack had come up and was fighting for what was left of the wolves’ meat.
“It’s too bad there isn’t enough of that wolves’ meat to go around,” said Joe.