The struggle that followed was fast and furious. Kicking and scratching, the wolf rolled over and over, but not once did Napoleon’s locked grip loosen. It was only when his opponent, completely exhausted and all but smothered, lay limp at his side, that he at last pried his own jaws apart to climb awkwardly to his place in the sun. Instantly the wolf dragged himself to his feet, to go slinking away into the brush.
For one full minute the boys stood there motionless. When Lawrence spoke his voice was husky. “Johnny, I’ve often suspected old Napoleon of being a tyrant. He’s lazy, too. I’ve never seen him do a lick of work. But he is one swell engineer and a grand boss.”
“What’s more, he’s no coward,” Johnny added.
“Johnny, I can’t do it,” Lawrence dangled his lasso.
“Neither can I,” said Johnny. “Let’s go.”
Turning, they made their way in silence down the narrow stream to its mouth. There they dropped down upon the snow to put on their skates.
“Johnny,” said Lawrence, “we’re a pair of old softies.”
“That’s right,” said Johnny. “But I don’t mind, do you?”
“Not a bit. Let’s go.”
“Get ’em?” the Professor asked as they came stamping into the cabin.