Whether there were more than three of the wolves he was unable to tell, but that they were coming nearer there was no doubt. Soon, peering through an opening in the trees, he caught sight of a skulking gray shape just as it raised its head and sent its mournful howl through the forest. But that howl was its last for, before it was finished, he had raised his rifle and sent a bullet crashing through its head. The wolf dropped in its tracks, gave a convulsive kick or two and was still.
"One less anyhow," Bob muttered as he ran forward to where the wolf was stretched.
About ten yards from where he was standing was a large tree with low branches and, as another howl rang out not hundred yards away, he ran toward it resolved to make a stand there knowing that wolves could not climb a tree and that, if worst came to worst, he could find temporary safety at least in its branches.
By this time he knew that there were more than three of the beasts and, by the sounds he judged that there must be nearly a dozen. Soon he caught sight of another gray form and, quickly raising his rifle, fired his second shot. The wolf fell but, almost before he was stretched on the snow, from all sides, gray shapes sprang upon him and in an incredibly short time the dead wolf was torn in pieces and devoured. A moment later and the first one killed was discovered and had shared a like fate. And still the ravenous beasts were not satisfied and in less than ten minutes from the time he had fired the second shot the pack was gathered in a semi-circle about twenty-five feet away, snapping and snarling and gradually closing in. He had not fired again hoping that they would be satisfied with the feast already provided and go away. But their appetite seemed only to be whetted and he fired again.
"Here's where little Bobby seeks safer quarters while they're busy," he muttered as he swung himself up onto the lowest branch of the tree. "I imagine Jack and Lucky'll hear the rumpus and come to my rescue," he thought. "Anyhow I'm safe enough and can pick them off at my leisure, if they choose to stay around."
The third wolf was quickly dispatched and the pack, about fifteen in number were soon gathered beneath the tree voicing their disappointment in mournful howls. Taking careful aim at the largest beast he pulled the trigger but, to his surprise, only a slight click resulted. Thinking there might be a defective cartridge in the rifle he pulled back the ejector. But to his dismay it stuck when half way back.
"Now I am in a fix," he said half aloud. "Mighty funny the thing had to stick at just this time especially when it's never done it before."
All this time he had been working feverishly in an effort to remove the cartridge, but he soon found that, without the aid of a screwdriver, it could not be done.
Then the thought that he had his automatic came to him and he took new heart. But his joy was short lived for the revolver was gone. He couldn't understand it, he told himself over and over again. He distinctly remembered shoving it into place in his belt just before starting. Then he remembered that, a short time before he heard the first wolf, he had tripped and fallen headlong.
"It must have dropped out when I fell," he told himself. "Wouldn't I have been in a nice fix if there had been no trees anywhere around?" And he shuddered as he looked down at the hungry beasts only a few feet beneath him.