“I’ll get a lantern,” said Dave, moving over towards the biplane.
“This is not half bad,” declared Elmer, assisting his comrade in gathering up the loose fuel.
“Say, what’s that?”
Hiram spoke in a startled tone. He dropped his armful of wood and stood stock still. Elmer edged nearer to him.
An ominous sound had greeted their hearing. It was a howl near at hand, sharp and resonant. Then it was repeated. Staring in the direction from which the sounds came, Hiram jumped back, shouting out sharply:
“It’s wolves! Dave, look out! Elmer, grab a club! Quick! Here they come!”
Scurrying forms came flying into the tree-formed arcade. The outlines were dim, but none the less threatening and terrifying. Hiram had grabbed up a heavy piece of wood. Elmer was no coward, and did not lose his nerve. He armed himself speedily as his comrade had done, and ranged himself by his side.
“It’s wolves,” declared Hiram—“two, three, half a dozen of them. Stand steady”—whack!
Fiery-eyed, red-tongued, seeming to skim the ground, the foremost animal of an alarming pack came flying towards the boys. Hiram had struck out. The blow was aimed with all his strength and skill. It sounded like a hammer landing hard on a thick metal ball.
The animal fell back to all fours and limply turned to one side. Two others leaped boldly over its slinking body.