“Where’s the whites?” the giant asked the chief, with his long, bony fingers choking out the answer:
“Yonder, in the council-house.”
Following the direction of the chief’s eye, they saw a log building, the only one in the encampment, about twenty yards distant. It had the appearance of being very strongly put up, and had evidently been built with a view to use as a council-house.
Darke and the scout hastened to liberate the captives, while Clancy, attracted thither by the loud snarls and yelps proceeding from the interior, went and looked over the top of a small stockade, or rather pen, about ten feet square, standing a little at one side.
“My heavens!” he cried. “It’s full of wolves!”
“Wolves!” repeated the big hunter, as he finished binding his cowed and terrified captive to a stake near by. “How many on ’em?”
“Eight,” returned Clancy, counting. “Shall I shoot them?”
“No,” said the giant avenger, a sudden thought entering his mind. “We may have use for ’em bimeby!”
“Use for them! How?” asked the young hunter.
For answer, the giant pointed to Ku-nan-gu-no-nah!