The wild cat went through the same performance. He nosed eagerly at the door, circled the tree two or three times, but always came back to the place where that tempting, well-nigh irresistible odor assailed him. The boys heard a low growl and the scratching of sharp claws on the door.
"Now he's swearing and fighting," whispered Albert, "but it will do him no good. Save your throat and your claws, old fellow."
"Look, he's gone!" whispered Dick.
The wild cat suddenly tucked his tail between his legs and fled from the opening so swiftly that they could scarcely see him go.
"And here comes his successor," whispered Albert. "I suppose, Dick, we might call this an arithmetical or geometrical progression."
An enormous timber wolf stalked into the clear space. He bore no resemblance to the mean, sneaking little coyote of the prairie. As he stood upright his white teeth could be seen, and there was the slaver of hunger on his lips. He, too, was restive, watchful, and suspicious, but it did not seem to either Dick or Albert that his movements betokened fear. There was strength in his long, lean body, and ferocity in his little red eyes.
"What a hideous brute!" whispered Albert, shuddering.
"And as wicked as he is ugly," replied Dick. "I hate the sight of these timber wolves. I don't wonder that the wild cat made himself scarce so quickly."
"And he's surely hungry!" said Albert. "See how he stretches out his head toward our Annex, as if he would devour everything inside it!"
Albert was right. The big wolf was hungry, hungry through and through, and the odor that came from the tree was exquisite and permeating; it was a mingled odor of many things and everything was good. He had never before known a tree to give forth such a delightful aroma and he thrilled in every wolfish fiber as it tickled his nostrils.