“Now, what do you think you heard?” asked Bluff, more or less interested, but still showing no signs of alarm.
“That’s what I’d like to know. Seemed like a howl of some kind.”
“I thought that wolf business would get on your nerves before long,” chuckled the other boy.
“But you said yourself that on a stormy night like this beasts of prey are apt to be unusually fierce,” protested Jerry.
“That’s right,” he was told; “but even then it doesn’t mean every whoop of the wind through the trees is a wolf giving tongue. Of course, I don’t say you didn’t hear one, but chances are ten to one against it.”
“Well, it hasn’t come again, so far, and I hope it won’t, that’s all,” said the still unconvinced Jerry.
Every once in a while he would go to the opening in front and look out. Of course, the fire needed more or less attention, as Bluff well knew; nevertheless, he felt pretty certain that Jerry was influenced by his fears of an invasion rather than any desire to throw on the additional fuel.
The time dragged along. So far as they could tell, there did not appear to be any let-up to the fury of the storm. There were many open chinks in their barricade, as might be expected, since it was composed of branches and such stuff as lay around at the time they made their roof and the sides to the cover.
Driven by the fierce wind, the fine powdery snow managed to penetrate more or less, so that they could feel it against their faces. Unpleasant as this might appear, it was not to be complained of when they realized the discomfort and danger that would have been their lot if compelled to remain out in the open.
After a long time they found their eyes getting heavy. While it was next to impossible to get any sound sleep, they might take what Bluff called “cat-naps,” rousing themselves every little while so as to change their cramped position and perhaps cast more wood on the fire.