"Him no camp," declared Kurilla.
"But he must. Why, it's a four days' journey to his home."
"No. One day, one night. Him no stop. Wolf no catch um. Yaas."
And Kurilla was right, for the Indian would push on over mile after mile of that frozen solitude without a pause, save for an occasional bite from his dried salmon and a handful of snow to wash it down, until he reached his own far-away home.
CHAPTER XX.
CHITSAH'S NATURAL TELEPHONE.
Seventeen green wolf-skins formed a heavy sledge-load, especially for the weakened dog teams, but fortunately Jalap Coombs's feet were again in condition for walking, and snow on the river was not yet deep. So it was determined to carry them at least for the present. On the evening following that of the encounter with wolves, Phil, leaving the work of preparing camp to the others, unpacked the Eskimo wolf-traps of compressed whalebone that he had procured at Makagamoot. He had twenty of the ingenious little contrivances, and wrapped each one in a strip of frozen wolf meat that he had saved and brought along for the purpose. When all were thus prepared he carried them about a quarter of a mile from camp, and there dropped them at short intervals in a great circle about it. He knew the dogs would not stray that far, since their experience of the night before, and so felt pretty certain that the traps would only find their way to the destination for which they were intended.
The first blood-chilling howl was heard soon after dark, and a few minutes later it was apparent that wolves were again gathering from all quarters. Then the anxious watchers caught occasional glimpses of dim forms and sometimes of a pair of gleaming eyes, that invariably drew a shot from Phil's rifle. Still, the wolves seemed to remember their lesson, or else they waited for the occupants of the camp to fall asleep, for they made no effort at an attack.
As time passed, the wolf tones began to change, and defiant howlings to give place to yelps and yells of distress. Soon other sounds were mingled with these—the fierce snarlings of savage beasts fighting over their prey. The traps were doing their work. Those wolves that had eagerly gulped them down were so stricken with deadly pains that they staggered, fell, and rolled in the snow. At the first symptoms of distress others sprang upon them and tore them to pieces, at the same time battling fiercely over their cannibal feast. So wolf fed wolf, while the night echoed with their hideous outcries, until finally the survivors, gorged with the flesh of their own kind, slunk away, and after some hours of bedlam quiet once more reigned in the forest.
So Phil's scheme proved a success, and for the remainder of that night he and his companions slept in peace. At daylight they visited the scenes of wolfish feasting, and found everywhere plentiful evidence of what had taken place; but this time they gathered in neither rugs nor robes, for only blood stains and bones remained.