Happily, the wolf was not the least frightened member of the party. His plunge through space had been unintentional, and when he rolled off into one corner of the cabin he gave a howl of terror.
Brick and Hamp gathered themselves up from the pine boughs, where the blow had tumbled them. They felt sure that they were lost; they expected to be instantly torn limb from limb.
“Stand aside!” yelled Jerry, as he stepped in front of his companions.
There was no time to shoot, for the wolf had turned in desperation, and was in the act of rushing at his enemies.
Jerry clubbed his rifle and let drive. Thud! the heavy stock landed on the brute’s head, and tumbled him over in a heap.
“Hurrah!” shouted Hamp and Brick, in one breath, as they rushed to the attack.
The wolf was a tenacious fellow, and he struggled desperately to rise. Sorely wounded though he was, he actually managed to get upon his feet. Then a charge of buckshot from Jerry’s gun, settled him for good and all, and he rolled over lifeless.
The whole affair transpired in about a minute, and the plucky lads next turned their attention to the peril that threatened them from overhead.
Two howling brutes were digging and tearing at the hole in the roof. Their lolling red tongues and white teeth glistened in the firelight. The rest of the pack yelped and scurried around the cabin, as though they knew that the feast would soon be ready.
“We’ll fix those fellows, never fear,” panted Jerry.