Before long there were dead and dying wolves lying all around, as “thick as blackberries in the good old summertime,” as Jimmy put it. Others that had received wounds, and no longer felt the same furious desire to try conclusions with the enemies perched beyond their reach in the trees, began to slink away. Doubtless, they remembered old lairs in the distant hills to which they might fly; and, in some fashion, supply themselves with the necessary food, without taking such desperate chances.
“All gone, it looks like, Ned!” sang out Jack, “and just when I’ve gone and got the magazine of my gun charged again, too.”
“Set ’em up in the other alley!” cried Jimmy. “I accounted for some of the victims, you can roll your hoop on that!”
“My stars! but that was a warm session!” exclaimed Harry; “and I wonder now if you got any sort of picture, Jack, when you used your flashlight on the scrimmage?”
That was just what Jack had done, laid his rifle aside for a minute, and made a good use of his camera, prepared for the occasion. The sudden flare of the cartridge had illuminated the scene as might a flash of lightning; and, possibly, this had been one of the causes that frightened the balance of the pack away, for the attack weakened from that moment.
“Dast we get down now?” asked Jimmy.
While he was speaking, Amos Adams dropped from his perch, as though he could see no further reason for playing the part of a bird and perching there among the branches.
During the racket Ned had several times heard the lighter report of a six-shooter, and understood that the kid cow-puncher was trying to do his share of the work in diminishing the number of Harkness’ pets. Whether success followed his efforts or not, Ned was unable to say, though he imagined the boy knew how to shoot the gun he “toted” in the holster at his belt.
As there was no reappearance of the wolves, the rest of the campers came down. The burros and the calico pony had acted as though frantic during the melee; but, as the boys had made sure to secure them properly, they were all there and by degrees quieting down, when they found that they were not going to be made a meal of by those savage beasts of prey.
The scouts counted just thirteen dead wolves scattered about. Two others were trying to crawl away, dragging their broken limbs after them.