The surprise did not come until just before night closed in, shortly after ten o’clock that night.
A hard, grilling day had been spent on the trail, with little relief from their labors, which were divided between hauling the ponies up dangerous slopes, down almost sheer walls, across glacial streams cold as ice, and last but not least the fighting of giant mosquitoes and black gnats.
“There is only one thing lacking to make this country the limit,” declared Stacy after they had made camp and settled down to warm themselves while the guide was getting supper.
“And what might that be?” questioned the Professor.
“Snakes!”
“Thank goodness there aren’t any such things here,” exclaimed Rector. “It is bad enough as it is. Hark! What’s that?”
“Him wolf,” grunted the Indian.
“I should say there were several of ‘him,’” 168laughed Tad Butler. “They seemed to be stirred up about something. Are they timber wolves, Anvik?”
The guide nodded and grunted.
“Are you afraid of wolves?” demanded Rector.