THAT very day we started on our tramp into the unknown wilderness, trusting that the stream would, as Percy had said, “bring us out somewhere.”
Heavily laden with a week’s provisions, our rifles, two blankets each, the axe, and last, though by no means least in importance, the little bags of gold-washings, and leaving all the rest of our camping outfit behind, we bade adieu to our late residence and set out, full of hope that now indeed we were homeward bound.
Having passed over the snow bridge without accident—though Jack made us tie ourselves together with a long rope, like Alpine climbers, before he would venture—we found ourselves in a crooked valley of considerable width, walled in by high mountains down whose sides came many streams, which, uniting with the one we were following, formed a respectable little river. Our spirits rose at the sight.
“This looks well,” said Jack. “This is a stream of some importance, either the Gallatin, I should guess, or else one of its main branches. If we meet with no insurmountable obstacles we shall certainly get down to the settlements by following it.”
It was getting on for sunset, and we were beginning to look out for a suitable camping-place, when our ears caught the sound of a dolorous howling going on somewhere farther down the river. Ulysses did not approve of it, for he stepped to the front, his bristles erect, growling to himself, and walking in that stiff-legged manner dogs assume when they see an enemy approaching.
“Wolves,” said Jack, cocking his rifle; “keep your eyes open.”
Picking our way carefully and silently, we soon came in view of a little clearing in the woods, and there in the midst of it—a most unexpected and most welcome sight—stood a log-cabin about the size of the one we had that morning deserted. The door was shut, and before it sat three grey wolves, howling in concert, as if they were serenading the inmate of the house. At the sight of them Ulysses could contain himself no longer. He exploded with one great bark which had been accumulating in his chest for the past ten minutes, and instantly the three serenaders vanished like grey shadows into the woods.
Advancing to the house, we knocked at the door.
“Who’s there?” came a shaky voice from inside.
“Three travellers,” replied Jack. “We’d like shelter for the night.”