“Heem geet me ver’ queek,” he muttered.
Just then, down the big chimney came a deep booming howl, and then all was still for several minutes.
Although, of course he was not frightened, Rex was keyed up to a high pitch wondering what would happen next.
“Look, Parry,” he suddenly cried, pointing to the window.
There, pressed close against the pane, was the face of an enormous wolf, but such a wolf as Rex had never dreamed of seeing. A long red tongue hung from its half open mouth and the eyes glowed like balls of fire, while streams of fire seemed to dart from the pointed nose.
Parry gave one look and started to his feet. Then, suddenly, with a hoarse cry, he threw up his hands and fell in a crumpled heap, on the floor. Rex was quick to grasp his chance, and, picking up the ropes, with which he had been tied, he soon had the breed trussed up so that there was little chance of his being able to get free. This done he threw open the front door and shouted.
“All right, boys, you can come in now.”
Bob and Jack, the latter carrying the wolf’s head on the end of a short stick, were quick to accept the invitation.
“You certainly did the trick, all right,” Rex declared as he pointed to the form lying on the floor. “That head was too much for him and he tumbled over, and I don’t wonder. It was enough to scare anyone out of a year’s growth.”
“He isn’t dead is he?” Bob asked anxiously.