He and Hamp lifted their shotguns, and fired together, straight at the glaring eyes and hungry jaws.
With a yelp of agony one of the brutes rolled from the roof, and crashed heavily to the ground. The other was invisible when the smoke cleared; he must have leaped back upon the rock.
The boys were cheered by their victory. They reloaded their weapons and waited, keeping an eye on all vulnerable spots.
“This will be something worth remembering, if we come through it all right,” said Brick.
“Morning can’t be many hours off,” added Hamp. “The pack will be sure to go then.”
But the brave lads were spared the horrors of a further siege. All at once the wolves became strangely silent, and the boys heard a rushing noise far back in the forest, mingled with a chorus of faint howls. The sound came closer, and then veered off in another direction, growing more and more indistinct.
“Listen!” whispered Jerry, holding up a warning finger. “There goes another pack of wolves—after a deer or something. Hear them tear through the forest. I’m glad they’re not headed this way.”
“So am I,” assented Brick. “Hullo! what’s up now?”
“The siege,” shouted Jerry, and the witticism proved indeed true.
The pack around the cabin gave voice to the fading howls of their kindred, and then scurried off into the forest at full tear.