There was a great scurrying around out there in the gloom, accompanied by all sorts of snapping noises, some growls, and the sounds of a battle.
“Glory!” ejaculated the boy, as he crouched there, trying to pierce the darkness that shrouded the scene so completely, “I do believe the rest of the gang have tackled the one I hit, and are tearing him to pieces right now. Ugh! hear ’em snap and growl, would you? Don’t I wish it was light enough to see, and wouldn’t I just like to send another chunk of lead straight in among the lot? Oh! why can’t the beggarly old moon peep out, just to encourage a poor fellow once in a while?”
Apparently his earnest plea must have been heard, for just then there did come a break in the clouds, allowing the moon a chance to look out. Billie seemed to take it for granted that he was being favored, and that he must make a quick use of the golden opportunity.
He was already looking straight out toward the place where all this commotion seemed to be in progress, so that as soon as he saw the whirling
figures there he started in to send several shots that way.
That he did not waste his ammunition was evident, for there was a wild scattering among the fighting animals; and he could plainly see several forms lying there, before the moon again hid her smiling face.
“Good boy! do it some more, can’t you?” Billie cried out, being wildly exultant by this time, because of his success.
The wolves kept at some little distance after that. They had learned a lesson, and would be careful how they attacked the one who apparently had it in his power to deal out death at will.
Half an hour later he could hear sounds again in the same old quarter. He understood from this that the hungry beasts were making a meal off the unlucky victims of his fire, but as this suited him very well, Billie did not attempt to interfere.
That threatened to be the longest night in all his experience, for he knew that he dared not go to sleep, even for a minute, lest those daring beast of prey jump upon him; and once at close quarters, where the repeating rifle did not count for more than a cudgel, get the better of him.