But now, before he could turn, before he could as much as realize his danger, a gray streak launched itself upon him.
Down he went. Snapping teeth and tearing claws, and after that a shock. He was beneath a combat, not a part of it. One frenzied effort and he was free.
A glance told him much. The wolf had leaped upon him. Maimed as he was, Tico had come to his aid. The brave dog was down now, the wolf at his throat.
Lacking better weapons, the boy seized the wolf by the throat and gripped him hard. Trained as they were for every form of combat, the grip of the boy’s hands was like steel.
The struggle that followed was a terrific one. Not daring to release his hold, yet fearing every instant that he would be frightfully torn by the beast’s claws, Johnny hung on like grim death.
Of a sudden the sight that appeared before him drove him to desperation. As the girl sprang back, a wolf leaped for her throat. They went down together.
Quite forgetting self he released his hold on the first wolf to seize the axe that in the struggle had been thrown from their kit, and with a single blow dispatched the beast that threatened Faye Duncan’s life.
And through it all, like the ancient warrior he was, Gordon Duncan remained in his place calmly nocking arrows and sending them crashing into the ribs of his enemies.
“There are more,” Johnny panted, helping the girl to her feet.
“More,” she panted, “More!”