“How’s the weather outside?” he asked Sandy.
Sandy shook the snow off his hood. “Same as before. Terrible. The dogs are acting up, too. I’m worried.”
“Maybe they’re cold.”
“I don’t think so. They act frightened.”
“Me too. We’re snowbound in the Yukon. Charley’s missing, probably frozen to death in a snowdrift. Our food is about gone. What a mess! I’m scared plenty.”
At that moment a long, mournful animal howl rose clearly above the intensity of the wind. Before it trailed off, another howl and still another joined it, forming an eerie chorus.
Jerry snapped upright like a jack-in-the-box, his face drained of blood. “Wolves!”
“And close by,” Sandy said grimly.
Outside, the dogs were really setting up an uproar now, snarling and barking frantically.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sandy had to smile as he watched his friend struggling to get out of the sleeping bag. In his excitement, Jerry couldn’t work the zipper. “Get me out of this strait jacket!” he yelled.