The wolves feared the campfire, and Toma explained that as long as they could keep the fire going they need not fear any very dangerous attack. And even if the wolves did rush them they could be repelled by fire brands.
“I’m going to see what they do when I throw fire,” Dick said presently. He picked out the nearest shadowy form, and drawing a flaming stick from the fire, threw it at the wolf. His aim was good and the animal snarled horribly as the fire fell within a few feet of its feet.
It was close to midnight when Toma confided to Dick and Sandy what they both feared. The wolves were gaining in number as wanderers joined the pack surrounding them. The places of those they had killed earlier in the day, and the few they had managed to pick off after dark were being filled by other ravenous beasts.
There would be no sleep in the camp that night.
CHAPTER XIX
THE CIRCLE OF DEATH
Toma had cut a huge stack of wood, and it was well he did, for the moment the fire died down the wolves drew closer. In fact they seemed to taunt the boys into using the last of their ammunition in firing at the difficult targets they made.
The one dog was whimpering with fear and cowering under the legs of his masters in abject fear. Sometimes, however, a low whine sounded among the wolves, at which the husky pricked up his ears and did not seem so frightened. Toma tied the dog to the sled with a thong of moose-hide.
As the night wore away, Dick and Sandy risked shot after shot at the wolves, and now and again they dropped a skulking shadow. But usually they missed, since Toma objected to giving up his rifle, and they were forced to use the corporal’s revolver.
“How long do you suppose we can hold out?” Sandy asked in a strained voice.
“I see no reason why we can’t hold out until they leave,” Dick replied with more confidence than he felt. “We’ve plenty of firewood. As long as we have fire to fight with we’re safe.”