“I hope they don’t smell our provisions,” Bob said, as he shifted to a more comfortable position.
The hope, however, was a vain one, for hardly had he uttered it when an excited yelp told them, only too plainly, that their stores were in danger. The toboggan, with its precious load, although only a short distance away, was invisible from their position, as a small pine intervened and they could only hope and pray that something would be left. Bob fired several shots in the direction of the snarls and yelps but, as far as they could tell, without effect. It was not long before the wolves were back beneath the tree and taking careful aim at a particularly large shaggy fellow, Bob fired. The wolf, with a yelp of pain, fell kicking in the snow and was almost instantly torn in pieces and devoured by his companions.
“A man may be down but never out, but when one of those fellows is down it don’t take him long to be out, does it?” Jack said as he watched the fragments of the wolf disappear down the hungry throats.
“Out is hardly the word,” Bob replied grimly. “I should say in was more to the point.”
Again he fired and again the performance was repeated. But now the wolves drew farther away. They were evidently learning the meaning of that sharp crack and however hungry were not anxious to be served up to their equally famished companions.
For some time Bob was unable to get another shot, but a wolf’s memory is short and in the course of a half hour they came creeping warily back. Bob waited until one was nearly beneath the tree before he fired, and then as the pack closed in for the feast, he poured shot after shot into them. At close range the carnage was too much even for the ravenous beasts and leaving several of their number kicking in the snow the rest turned and fled, making the forest ring with their howls of terror.
“I don’t believe they’ll come back again this time,” Bob said, as he filled the magazine with fresh cartridges.
And he was right, for gradually the howls grew fainter and soon nothing save the noise of the storm could be heard.
“I guess they’ve gone,” Jack declared, and Bob agreed with him.
“But we better wait awhile and make sure before we get down,” he said as he pulled a pair of thick mittens from the pocket of his mackinaw and drew them on his numbed hands.