Cowmen and Rustlers | Page 9

the ice before able
to check themselves and change their own course.
The stratagem seemed as successful as the other, but it was too soon to
congratulate themselves. At the moment when everything promised
well, the most enormous wolf he had ever seen bounded from under the
trees on the left bank and galloped directly for him.
He was so far in advance that the only way of dodging him was by
another sharp turn in his course. To do this, however, would bring him
so near the other brutes that they were almost certain to leap upon every
one of the party.
"Use your revolver!" called Fred from the rear.
Monteith had already decided that this was an exigency demanding one
of the remaining charges, and he partly raised the weapon in front of
him.
Meanwhile, the huge wolf had stopped on seeing that the procession
was coming in a straight line for him. The youth moderated his speed
still more, that he might perfect his aim.
He was in the act of levelling his pistol, when the animal advanced
quickly a couple of steps and made a tremendous leap at his throat. The
act was unexpected, but at the instant of his leaving the ice Monteith let
fly with one chamber at him.
The success was better than he had a right to expect, for the leaden
pellet bored its way through the skull of the wolf, who, with a rasping
yelp, made a sidelong plunge, as if diving off a bank into the water, and,
striking on the side of his head, rolled over on his back, with his legs

vaguely kicking at the moon, and as powerless to do harm as a log of
wood.
Brief as was the halt, it had given the leading brutes of the main body
time to come up. They were fearfully near, when the scent of blood and
the sight of their fallen comrade suggested to the foremost that a meal
was at their disposal. They flew at the huge fellow and rended him to
shreds and fragments in a twinkling.
The only way of escape was still in front, and, with the utmost energy,
power, and skill at his command, Monteith Sterry darted ahead. His
crouching body, the head well in advance, somewhat after the manner
of a racing bicyclist on the home-stretch, his compressed lips, his
flashing eyes, with every muscle tense, were proof that he knew it had
now become a struggle of life and death.
If he allowed one of those wolves to approach nigh enough to leap
upon him, he would be borne to the earth like a flash and share the fate
of the victim of his pistol. They were near, for he could hear that
multitudinous pattering on the ice, when the din of their cries permitted
it, and they were running fast.
But, he reasoned, if they were so close to him they must be still closer
to the brother and sister, whose peril, therefore, was correspondingly
greater. He looked around. He was farther from the horde than he
supposed, but Fred and Jennie were not directly behind him, as he had
thought.
At the moment an awful thrill shot through him; he caught a glimpse of
Fred close in shore and going like the wind. The couple were still
preserved from the fangs of the wolves, but only heaven knew how
long it would last.
A short distance ahead an opening showed where a creek put in from
the woods and hills. Monteith gave it only a glance when he skimmed
past at the same furious pace as before. It looked as if there was hope at
last, for the brutes first seen were all at the rear. If new danger came, it
would be from others that ran out on the ice in front.

"It seems to me that all the wolves in Maine are on this little river," was
his thought, "but there may be a few left that will try to get into our
path."
A wild cry came from his friends and he glanced toward them. Not
only that, but believing his help was needed, he sheered over to them as
quickly as he could.
The course of the river had changed, so that a ribbon of shadow
extended along that bank, partially obscuring the form of Fred Whitney,
who seemed to cling to it as if therein lay his safety.
The brutes were now so far to the rear that there was little to be feared
from them, though they still kept up the pursuit, and while able to
follow in a straight line were doing so with more speed than would be
expected.
It struck Sterry that his friend was not skating with his utmost skill. He