Pelliter had lighted a lamp, and in its glow Billy’s face shone white with excitement.
“Good God, Pelly, come here!” he cried from the door.
As Pelliter ran out he gripped him by the shoulders.
“Listen!” he commanded. “Listen to that!”
“Wolves!” said Pelliter.
The wind was rising, and sent a whistling blast through the open door of the cabin. It awakened Little Mystery, who sat up with frightened cries.
“No, it’s not wolves,” cried MacVeigh, and it did not sound like MacVeigh’s voice that spoke. “I never heard wolves like that. Listen!”
He clutched Pelliter’s arm as on a fresh burst of the wind there came the strange and terrible sound from out of the night. It was rapidly drawing nearer— a wailing burst of savage voice, as if a great wolf pack had struck the fresh and blood-stained trail of game. But with this there was the other and more fearful sound, a shrieking and yelping as if half-human creatures were being torn by the fangs of beasts. As Pelliter and MacVeigh stood waiting for something to appear out of the gray-and-black mystery of the night they heard a sound that was like the slow tolling of a thing that was half bell and half drum.
“It’s not wolves,” shouted Billy. “Whatever it is, there’s men with it! Hurry, Pelly, into the cabin with our dogs and sledge! Those are dogs we hear— dogs who are howling because they smell us— and there are hundreds of ’em! Where there’s dogs there’s men— but who in Heaven’s name can they be?”
He dragged the sledge into the cabin while Pelliter unleashed the huskies from the lean-to. When he came in with the dogs Pelliter locked and bolted the door.