“Wonderful sight!” breathed Mrs. Vernon.
“Oh, for that camera! It is in the duffel-bag,” sighed Julie.
But the scene now grew too exciting for any scout to yearn over forgotten kodaks, for the wolves were almost near enough to begin their raid. The four rifles still pointed directly at them, but the signal was not yet forthcoming. Tally knew when to fire.
Just as the foremost wolf rose on his hind legs to hurl himself at the caribou nearest him, and the bull bellowed madly and wheeled to attack, Tally signaled. Four spurts of blue and four streaks of red—and three timber wolves rolled over dead!
At the sound of those dire sounds which the bull understood to be as deadly as a wolf, he lifted his snout high in the air, called hastily to his herd, and the wheel broke—the caribou trotted away swiftly and disappeared in the forest.
“That certainly was a sight worth seeing,” sighed the Captain. “But I must hang that camera about my neck, day in and day out, or I shall miss the best pictures every time.”
At breakfast that morning Mr. Gilroy said, “I had planned to cross the Continental Divide at Milner’s Pass, because of the beauties of the Fall River Road, but this unexpected slide down from Flat Top yesterday, disarranged all these plans. What shall we do about it?”
“What was your next point of interest, had we gone over the pass as you had planned?” asked Mrs. Vernon.
“Well, you see, I thought we would land somewhere near Beaver Creek on the western slope of the Divide. I know a number of ranchers living about that section, and I thought the scouts might enjoy spending a week or so on these ranches.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Gilly, we’d rather enjoy the wildlife of the Rockies instead of ranching,” ventured Julie.