Mr. Baxter, kicking his sleeping bag to one side, loosed the fastenings of the tent and stepped out. He was followed by Fred and Jerry, Johnson coming last.
Fred was not prepared for the wonderful sight that met his gaze. At first he thought he had been transported back to his own home, and that a Fourth of July celebration was in progress. The sky was streaked with long streamers of colored fire that waved and undulated to and fro, beginning at the horizon and extending to the zenith.
"The Northern Lights!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter.
Then Fred understood that he had looked for the first time on the wondrous and beautiful Aurora Borealis.
Suddenly the peacefulness of the night was once more broken by the fierce howls, and this time they were answered by the sled dogs, who, raising their sharp muzzles in the air, sent their answering challenge to the wolves.
"There they are!" cried Fred, pointing to a dark mass on the white, snowy expanse. "They're headed this way."
"Are your rifles ready?" asked Mr. Baxter. "We'll probably have to fight them off."
"Will they attack us?" asked Jerry.
"Wolves have to be in large numbers or desperate with hunger before they will tackle a man," said his father. "Especially where there is such a large number as there are of us. But they may fight with our dogs and injure them, and that would be the worst thing that could happen to us, as we have to depend entirely on the dogs for traveling here."
"They are coming closer," remarked Fred.