From the top of these poles hung suspended his coil aerial. There remained but to connect the batteries. He was bent over the sled, intent upon making these connections secure, when he was startled by a mad chop of jaws directly behind him. The next instant there was a wild whirling of legs and fur, as Major engaged a wolf in combat.
Snatching his rifle, Joe stood ready to do deadly execution once the combatants separated.
“But only four cartridges,” he breathed, “and my call for help not yet sent.” His heart sank.
CHAPTER VI
THE BATTLE CRY
Even hampered as he was by the chain attached to his collar, the faithful old watchdog was more than a match for his lighter opponent. Over and over they tumbled. Twice the chain, tangling about the wolf’s legs, seemed about to make him prisoner. At last with a savage onslaught Major leaped clean at the enemy’s throat. There followed a gurgling cough. For a second the end seemed at hand. But the next instant, Major’s teeth lost their grip. The wolf, feeling himself free, and having had quite enough, slunk away into the shadows.
“Might as well let him go,” was the boy’s mental comment. “He’s well licked. He’ll not want to come back. Save my shots for those who mix in next.”
In this, perhaps he made a mistake. Bleeding from many wounds, the wolf carried a rank scent of battle and blood back to his companions, a scent more maddening than was that of the frozen meat upon the sled. Hardly had he disappeared into the darkness than there arose from out that darkness a war song such as Joe had never before given ear to, a song that made his blood run cold.
“Not a second to lose,” he exclaimed as he snapped the receiver over his head, threw on the switch and pressed his lips to the transmitter.
He was talking on 200. “Hello! Hello! Curlie, you hear? Wolves. Six miles from Indian’s shack. Sled broken. Must fight for life. Got four shots. Bring rifles. Come quick.”
Eagerly he pressed the receivers to his ears. Wildly his heart beat. It was a tense moment. Would Curlie be listening in on 200? Would the message carry? Would he respond?