And now it seemed that the wolves must be all but upon them. Then, with a sudden cry, Marian saw the great spreading antlers of old Omnap-puk, the king of reindeer and caribou, rise above the ridge.
“He’s not alone. There are others,” Patsy breathed.
“Reindeer!” Marian murmured in astonishment.
It was true. One by one at first, then by fives and tens, a drove of deer, fifty or sixty in number, appeared on the crest of the hill and came plunging down toward Marian’s herd.
The old Monarch had never before joined their herd, but this time, without a second’s hesitation, he plunged straight on until he came to the edge of the herd. Then, with a peculiar whistled challenge, he wheeled about and with antlers lowered for battle, pawed defiance at the on-rushing band of wolves.
Then a strange and interesting drama began to be enacted. There was a shifting and turning of deer. Front ranks were quickly formed. When the wolves, with lolling tongues and dripping jaws reached the spot, they found themselves facing a solid row of bayonet-like antlers.
Quick as they were to understand the situation, and to rush away in a circle to execute a rear attack, the deer, under the monarch’s leadership, were quicker. Other lines were formed until a complete circle of antlers confronted the beasts of prey. The weaker and younger deer were in the center.
Then it was that the girls discovered for the first time that they, too, were in the center; that they were surrounded by the restless, snorting, pawing herd of deer. In their interest at watching the progress of events, they had not been aware of the fact that the deer, in swinging about, had encircled them.
That they were in peril, they knew all too well. They read this in the look of concern on Terogloona’s face.
“Circle hold, all right,” he said soberly. “Not hold, bad! Deer afraid. Go mad. Want’a trample down all; want’a get away fast. Mebby knock down my master’s daughter, her friend, Terogloona, Attatak; knock down all; mebby trampled. Mebby die. Mebby wolf kill.”