“Can’t get a shot,” was the reply. “The brute has dropped lower, and won’t stir. Wait a bit,” Jerry added, as he withdrew the weapon. “You fellows are going to see the liveliest sight of your lives. Here come the wolves, and the catamount is growling like fury. He doesn’t intend to let himself be robbed of that venison.”
The boys all gathered before the hole, eager to witness the coming struggle. They were too excited to bother much about their own peril.
Now the hungry pack scented the savory meat. The long howls changed to quick, shrill yelps. They were very close.
All at once the flames danced up around the logs. The red glare flashed to the top of the bluff. The catamount had shifted his position, and the boys saw him plainly. His great jaws were open, and his tail lashed the brush angrily.
“What a chance!” whispered Jerry. “I could put a ball right through him.”
“Don’t spoil the fun,” pleaded Brick. “The wolves will make an end of the brute.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” muttered Hamp.
However, Jerry had no intention of interfering. The opportunity of ridding the boys of a relentless enemy was imprudently allowed to slip by.
An instant later the scene changed. Out from the—forest broke two shadowy gray forms, gaunt and ravenous with hunger. They darted at the venison, snarling defiance. There was a lightning-like bound, and a screech of fury.
For a few seconds the three animals were a shapeless, whirling tangle. Then the catamount tumbled out of the heap, and sprang back to the carcass. One wolf lay dead and mangled on the snow. The other limped into the forest with dismal wails.