But what was this? Just when the tide seemed set against them there came a strange roaring sound from the distance. This resembled more than any other the call of a wild beast, a challenge to battle.
Pausing, the gray streaks appeared to listen. Then, one by one, they went trotting away into the night.
Hardly a moment had elapsed before there came a sharp yip of pain, another and yet another. A moment of silence, then the night was made hideous by the noise of battle.
“Wha—what can it be?” The girl’s words came in stifled whispers.
“Can’t tell,” said Johnny.
“Get your bows and arrows,” commanded Gordon Duncan. “They may be back upon us at any moment.”
“And—and that other monstrous thing!” Faye Duncan’s nerves were shattered.
“Five out there.” Gordon Duncan’s voice was calm. He was pointing in the direction his arrows had sped.
Johnny was feeling a little ashamed of his record when his eyes fell upon the wolf that had attacked Tico. He was dead, strangled.
“Not so bad,” he thought as he once more gripped his bow and sought out an arrow.