She was too late. Tico had leaped away into that darkness and fog.
A moment of suspense, then from out that shadow-land came sounds of a terrific encounter.
With a cry of dismay the girl leaped to her feet and would have gone to the aid of her faithful friend. But Gordon Duncan pulled her back.
“No! No! child!” he exclaimed. “It won’t do. We must stay together. It’s our only chance.”
“There are many,” he rumbled on. “More than I have ever known before. They do not as a rule travel in packs, these white phantoms of the Arctic. They go about in families. But when caribou are passing they are sometimes thrown together in packs. This is the time when they are most dangerous.”
“Listen!” Faye caught her breath as the growl and howl of Tico was blended with the yip-yip of wolves. “They’ll kill him. What can we do?” She gripped Johnny’s arm until it hurt.
Fortunately this question did not need answering. Fierce as the battle in the dark was, it ended quite suddenly. A moment later the dog came limping back. One shoulder was terribly torn. His strength was completely gone.
Torn and bloody as he was, the girl gathered him in her arms to wrap him in a blanket and lay him down beside her.
“Brave old boy!” she murmured.
For a half hour after that they sat there back to back waiting, listening, staring into the dark, but seeing nothing.