“So I see,” Bob agreed as he examined the rope. “But what are we going to do, Rex? There’s got to be some way.”
“Well,” Rex began slowly, “I’ve been thinking ever since you came in. A rough and tumble is out of the question. I know you’re good with your fists and all that, but against Parry Magloire the three of us would be like so many children, and I would hate like blazes to shoot him or anything of that sort. You see, in a way, I admire the man and so would you if you knew him.”
“That’s all right, but—,” Bob began when Rex interrupted.
“We’ve got to think fast, Bob. Now I’ve got a sort of a plan. Parry, like most breeds, is very superstitious. There’s an old story, which has been handed down in his family for generations about a giant wolf which has killed the eldest son of each era. He was telling me all about it the other night. He has never seen the wolf, but he said that he had heard it more than once. Of course, it’s all bosh but he believes it and, the point is he’s the eldest son of his father. He said that, for a good many years back, the eldest son of each family had disappeared and there was no doubt, in his mind, but that the wolf had gotten him.”
“I rather think that he wants that money so that he can go away off somewhere where he thinks he’ll be safe. I guess it’s the only thing in the world that he’s afraid of but that wolf certainly has got him bluffed all right.”
“And you think we might scare him away?” Bob asked as the other paused.
“That’s the idea,” Rex said. “And it’s the only plan I can think of.”
“Well we can try,” Bob began, but just then the shrill cry of a wild cat rang out.
“That’s Jack telling me that the breed’s coming back. I must hustle, but keep a stiff upper lip. We won’t be far away,” and Bob hurried out the back way.
He ran down the path quickly and, finding his snow-shoes where he had left them, he was soon back with his brother.