"Oh! you good man! Come here and save me," cried Aunt Janet in a frenzy of relief. But Kalman was too busy for the moment to give heed to her cries. As he entered, a fiercer howl arose above the din. The wolf had seized hold of Captain's upper lip and was grimly hanging on, while Queen was gripping savagely for the beast's throat. With his club Kalman struck the wolf a heavy blow, stunning it so that it released its hold on the dog. Then, catching it by the hind leg, he hauled wolf and hounds out of the tent in one squirming mass.
"God help us!" cried the stout gentleman, darting into his own tent and poking his head out through the door. "Keep the brute off. There's my gun."
The girl screamed and ran behind Kalman. The young man with the chubby face dropped his axe and jumped hastily into a convenient wagon.
"Shoot the bloomin' brutes," he cried. "Some one bring me my gun."
But the wolf's days were numbered. Queen's powerful jaws were tearing at his throat, while Captain, having gripped him by the small of the back, was shaking him with savage fury.
"Oh! the poor thing! Call off the dogs!" cried the girl, turning to Kalman.
"No! No! Don't you think of it!" cried the man from the tent door. "He will attack us."
Kalman stepped forward, and beating the dogs from their quarry, drew his pistol and shot the beast through the head.
"Get back, Captain! Back! Back! I say. Down!"
With difficulty he drew the wolf from the jaws of the eager hounds, and swung it into the wagon out of the dogs' reach.