Cowmen and Rustlers | Page 8

angles to
the left--that is, in exactly the opposite direction from the course of the
wolves--and in a second they were fifty feet nearer that shore than the
brutes. Then followed another quick turn, and they were gliding with
arrowy speed straight down stream. They had simply passed around the
animals, who, detecting the trick, made their limbs rigid and slid over
the ice, with their claws scratching it, until able to check their speed to
allow them to turn and resume the pursuit.
Sterry was on the point of uttering a shout of exultation and admiration

at the clever manoeuvre, when Jennie cried out; and well might she do
so, for fifty yards beyond, and directly in their path, the ice seemed
suddenly to have become alive with the frightful creatures, who
streamed from the woods on both sides, ravenous, fierce and
unrestrainable in their eagerness to share in the expected feast.

CHAPTER III.
THE FLIGHT OVER THE ICE.
The same minute that Monteith Sterry saw the new peril which
threatened them all he darted out beside the brother and sister, who had
slackened their pace at sight of the wolves in front.
"What shall we do?" asked Fred; "we cannot push on; let's go up
stream."
"You cannot do that," replied Jennie, "for they are gathering behind
us."
A glance in that direction showed that she spoke the truth. It looked as
if a few minutes would bring as many there as in advance.
"We shall have to take to the woods," said Fred, "and there's little hope
there."
"It won't do," added the sister, who seemed to be thinking faster than
either of her companions. "The instant we start for the shore they will
be at our heels. Make as if we were going to run in close to the right
bank, so as to draw them after us; then turn and dash through them."
The manoeuvre was a repetition of the one she and her brother had
executed a few minutes before, and was their only hope.
"I will take the lead with my pistol," said Monteith, "while you keep as
close to me as you can."

Every second was beyond value. The wolves were not the creatures to
remain idle while a conference was under way. At sight of the three
figures near the middle of the course they rent the air with howls, and
came trotting toward them with that light, springy movement shown by
a gaunt hound, to whom the gait is as easy as a walk.
Monteith Sterry shot forward on his right foot, his revolver, with its
two precious charges, tightly gripped in his naked hand.
This was to be called into play only in the last extremity. The killing of
a couple of wolves from such a horde could produce no effect upon the
rest, unless perhaps to furnish some of them a lunch, for one of the
curious traits of the lupus species is that they are cannibals, so to speak.
His hope was that the flash and report of the weapon would frighten the
animals into opening a path for a moment, through which the skaters
could dart into the clear space below.
Having started, Monteith did not glance behind him. Fred and his sister
must look out for themselves. He had his hands more than full.
With a swift, sweeping curve he shot toward the bank, the brutes
immediately converging to head him off. The slight, familiar scraping
on the ice told him that Fred and Jennie were at his heels. He kept on
with slackening speed until close to the shore, and it would not do to go
any further. An overhanging limb brushed his face.
But his eye was on the wolves further out in the stream. The place was
one of the few ones where the course was such that no shadow was
along either bank. The moment most of the creatures were drawn well
over toward the right shore, Sterry did as his friends did awhile before,
skimming abruptly to the left and almost back over his own trail, and
then darting around the pack. The line was that of a semicircle, whose
extreme rim on the left was several rods beyond the last of the wolves
swarming to the right.
"Now!" called Sterry at the moment of turning with all the speed at his
command.

Critical as was the moment, he flung one glance behind him. Fred and
Jennie were almost nigh enough to touch him with outstretched hand.
No need of shouting any commands to them, for they understood what
he was doing, or rather trying to do.
Young Sterry, as I have said, had cleared the horde of wolves, making
the turn so quickly that they slid a rod or more over