“Then are we not going to bring about his rescue, even if it does cost us some of our precious powder and shot?” Roger demanded.
“Yes, but I hope it will not be more than one load,” replied his cousin; for all their lives this question of a wastage of ammunition had been impressed on their minds as the utmost folly, and on that account they seldom used their guns except to make sure of worthy game.
“Come, let us rush forward with loud yells, waving our arms, and doing everything we can to scare the animals off before we begin to fire. After we get close up, and they are hesitating what to do, that is the time for us to blaze away.”
“A good plan, Roger, and worthy of our fathers’ old friend, Pat O’Mara. Only as a last resort will we use our fire-arms.”
“And you be the one to say when, Dick, remember!”
“Depend on me for that,” Roger was told quickly. “Just as soon as I see that something is needed to force the ugly beasts to make up their minds, I’ll call out to you to give it to them.”
“Give me one last word of advice before we rush them, Dick.”
“Yes, what is it, Roger?”
“If, instead of taking to their heels, the pack turns on us, and starts to fight, what must we do?”
“There isn’t one chance in ten it will happen that way,” said Dick, “for wolves are too cowardly. When they see us rushing boldly forward you’ll notice how every beast’s head will droop, and that he’ll begin to skulk away, showing his teeth, perhaps, but cowed and whipped.”