Stone Fence bawled where he was tethered nearby, instinctively knowing that there was danger near.
CHAPTER XVI—THE WOLF RING
The howling of the lone wolf, however, did not take the boys’ appetites away. Fresh venison is rather tough until it has hung awhile; but the parts of the kill Chet and Dig ate that night were tender and succulent. The steaks they would not try until the next day.
“There’s a whole lot more than we can eat ourselves,” said Chet. “But some other party may come along and be glad of a haunch.”
“Ugh!” grunted Dig. “There’s that party talking up in the hills. He’ll be around for his share,” as the long-drawn wail of the wolf shuddered again across the gathering night.
The cry of the wolf made the horses nervous, too; they kept stepping around instead of grazing at the end of their tethers. As for the yearling, he tried to answer bawl for bawl—and so led the wolf on.
“I never did realise before how big a fool a calf can be,” said Dig, reviewing his strenuous day. “But say! let’s smoke one of the hams.”
“How?” demanded Chet.
“Hang it over the fire, of course,” returned the sanguine Digby.
“And who’s going to find the proper kind of wood to smoke it without merely blackening the meat with soot? And who’s going to sit up all night and watch the fire? Besides, it would take three or four nights to smoke a ham properly. I hope we’ll shoot other game before we get to Grub Stake.”