The rifle turned into a stick of firewood. The wolves into three black rocks piled at the mouth of the rift.
Sandy had been dreaming. But it was a dream that might come true, as he realized with a sensation of helplessness.
CHAPTER XXX—THE LAW OF THE NORTH.
Jack lay upon the snow with the ground about him dyed red from a badly crushed ankle. Tom and old Joe Picquet bent over him doing what they could to ease his pain, for he had now regained consciousness.
It was a wolf trap that the boy had blundered into; a cruel, ponderous affair with massive steel jaws, from whose grip it had been hard to release him.
“Is the ankle broken, do you think?” asked Tom of old Joe.
“Tiens! I can no say now. But I teenk not. Zee trap was old, zee spring was weak. Dat is good. Eef eet had been new, eet would have broken zee bone lak you break zee pipe stem. Voila!”
“How do you feel now, Jack?” asked Tom.
Jack made a brave effort to disguise his pain.
“I’ll soon be all right, I guess,” he said, “but, Tom, I’ll tell you one thing.”