"Three or four miles, but with our lope it won't take us long to cover it. What hev you got in mind, Henry?"
"I think we've got to kill the king wolf. I didn't think so a little while ago, but they follow us hoping that some accident, a fall perhaps, will make us their prey."
"Do it then, Henry, an' take all the chances. I'm growin' mighty tired o' bein' follered by wolves that are re'ly tigers. After you shoot, we'll turn to the left an' run ez hard ez we kin."
Henry whirled suddenly about and raised his rifle. The king wolf, as if divining his purpose, sheered to one side, but he was confronting the deadliest marksman in the woods. The muzzle of Henry's rifle followed him, and when he pulled the trigger the bullet crashed through the great beast's skull.
When the king wolf fell dead the others stopped, stricken with terror, but from a point to the east came the long thrilling note of the war whoop. The warriors had heard the shot, and, knowing they would come swiftly to its sound, Henry and the shiftless one, turning due west, ran with amazing speed through the forest.
CHAPTER VII
THE FOREST POETS
Henry and the shiftless one knew that they had drawn danger upon themselves, but they had nothing to regret. The pursuit by the wolves had become intolerable. In time it was bound to unsettle their nerves, and it was better to take the risk from the warriors.