Not wishing to approach closer by myself, I returned to tell my uncles what I had seen. Uncle Mark and Quambo accompanied me back, and as we got nearer the wolves looked up and snarled at us, and continued their occupation; but what was our horror, on advancing a little further, to discover that they were feeding on the dead bodies of a number of persons stretched on the ground! A dreadful fear seized us. Could they be those of our late companions? I shuddered, and burst into tears.
Yes! there could be no doubt about it, I thought. There lay those we had lately parted from in health and strength, cruelly murdered, and now the prey of the savage wolves. Our friends the Claxtons!—Dora! honest Reuben! and their parents!
Then the fearful thought that such might ere long be our fate came over me.
“Can none have escaped?” I exclaimed.
Uncle Mark advanced a few paces nearer the wolves, with his gun, ready to fire should they attack him. He was looking at a man whom the wolves had not yet torn to pieces. Apparently he was only just dead, and had probably defended himself to the last, keeping his assailants at bay.
“That man did not belong to our party,” I heard Uncle Mark cry out. “These people must have formed part of another emigrant-train.”
Quambo and I ran up to him. We then shouted together, and some of the wolves nearest to us, startled by our approach, left their prey, when we were convinced, by the dresses of the corpses, that Uncle Mark’s surmise was correct. This discovery somewhat relieved our minds. Our friends might have escaped; but at the same time it was too evident that hostile Indians were scouring that part of the country, and that we ourselves might ere long be attacked, and share the fate of the unhappy persons we saw before us.
We now slowly retreated, shouting as we did so to keep the wolves at bay, and turning every few paces to face them; for had they seen us fly, they might have been induced to follow. They were now, however, happily for us, too much engaged in their dreadful feast to take further notice of us.
Having told Uncle Stephen what we had seen, we turned the heads of the oxen away from the spot, directing our course to the right, where the ground appeared to be more even than any we had yet gone over. We agreed not to let Aunt Hannah and Lily know of the dreadful scene we had witnessed; but it was important to get as far as possible from the spot, and we determined, if the oxen could drag the waggon, to continue on all night.
“Do you think it likely that the wolves, when they have finished their horrible feast, will track us out?” I said to Uncle Mark.