"Oh, my partner and I shot at them from the window until we had killed over a dozen, and the rest, finding that they could not get at us, took themselves off."
"Did they kill the horses?" asked Tom.
"No," replied Mr. Melton, "for some reason they didn't chase them. The next morning we found them both outside the shack none the worse for their adventure. And a mighty lucky thing for us it was, because the loss of our horses then would have meant the failure of all our plans."
"I suppose you went back and got the sled the next day, didn't you?" inquired Dick.
"Oh, yes," replied his host, "we recovered it all right, but then we had to go back to the settlement for more grub, of course. But I was so happy at having escaped with my life that I didn't mind a little thing like that."
The three boys laughingly voted Mr. Melton's story a "curly wolf," and then, as it was getting late, trooped off to bed.
CHAPTER VIII
With Teeth and Hoofs
One of the most important of the many industries of the ranch was the breeding of horses for the Eastern market. Mr. Melton had a number of fine horses, but the most valuable of all was Satan, a big black stallion. His pedigree was as long as his flowing tail, and physically he was a perfect specimen. His only drawback was a fiendish temper, which it seemed impossible to subdue. Strangers he would never tolerate, and Mr. Melton seemed to be the only man on the ranch that could go near him without running a chance of being badly kicked or bitten. Even he was always very careful to keep an eye out for mischief whenever in the neighborhood of the stallion.