He knew that he was safe so far as the wolves were concerned, but the intense cold was beginning to work through his clothing. Hustling along on snow-shoes at forty below zero was one thing, but roosting up in the branches of a tree at the same temperature was quite another, he told himself. He wondered why Jack and Lucky had not put in an appearance and then, for the first time he noticed that a strong wind was blowing and that it was coming from the direction of the camp.
"Perhaps that wind's so strong that they haven't heard the wolves or the shots," he thought.
It seemed that his last thought must be correct for a full hour passed and there was no sign of his friends. He knew it would be of no use to shout for if they had not heard the wolves and his shots it was dead certain that they would not hear him. If they had heard anything to give them the idea that he might be in trouble they would have had no trouble in following his tracks as they were the only ones visible. Hence, he reasoned, they had heard nothing. He did not know whether it was growing colder or not, but he was quite sure that he was, and, having a firm seat in a crotch, he spent much of the time beating his body with his arms in an effort to keep out as much of the cold as possible.
The wolves showed no signs of giving up. To be sure they were no longer leaping and howling, but had assumed an attitude of what he called watchful waiting. It was, he knew, only a question of being able to stand the cold long enough. Jack and Lucky would be after him when he did not return soon after they would expect him.
Another hour passed and he began, for the first time, to be really frightened. For a long time he had been shaking with the cold, but now he did not feel nearly so cold and a peculiar drowsiness was stealing over him, an almost overwhelming desire to sleep. He knew what that meant and, with all the force of his will, he fought against it. For awhile he kept changing his position, but now he feared to move for fear he would fall. So he wedged himself in a crotch between the trunk and a large limb in such a way that in case he lost consciousness his body would be held.
"God grant that they may come in time," was his last conscious thought and then he drifted off into nothingness.
CHAPTER IX.
THE RESCUE.
"Isn't it about time Bob was getting back?"
Jack looked at his watch as he asked the question.