“Oh, they be coming!” cried Tom. “I’ll rouse up Mr Hurry. Maybe he’ll know how to tackle ’em.”
Highly diverted with the opinion my followers had formed of my prowess against not only mortal but spiritual enemies, I lay still, wishing to hear what he would next say. The hideous howl approached still nearer.
“I can’t stand it!” he exclaimed. “Muster Hurry! Muster Hurry! there be ghostesses, or devils, or some such things abroad, a-playing of their pranks, and they be coming to eat us up, Muster Hurry, I be sure!”
I burst into a fit of laughter, so loud that it woke Delisle. It was responded to, it seemed, by so unearthly a cry from the depths of the forest, that even he for a moment was startled. Then there was the report of firearms, and looking out of our wigwam, I saw old Nobs standing in front of his, with a musket in his hand.
“I’ve druve the varmints away,” he said, in his usual laconic style. “You may turn in, mister.”
I took his advice, for it was very cold outside.
“The wolves will not probably disturb us again,” said I, as I lay down.
“Wolves! be them wolves?” I heard Tom remark; but as I soon fell asleep, I do not know what more he said.
Towards the morning I was again awoke by loud shouts, and growls, and cries, and the sound of a tremendous tussle.
“I’ve caught ye, my bo!” I heard Tom exclaim. “If ye be a ghost or a devil, ye shall just show yourself to Muster Hurry, before I let ye go.”