The Wolf Hunters | Page 4

the prostrate Roderick, Wabi drew him quickly upon his
back, clutched his rifle in the grip of his arm, and started again for the
tamaracks. Only once did he look back, and then he saw the wolves
gathering in a snarling, fighting crowd about their slaughtered
comrades. Not until he had reached the shelter of the tamaracks did the
Indian youth lay down his burden, and then in his own exhaustion he
fell prone upon the snow, his black eyes fixed cautiously upon the
feasting pack. A few minutes later he discerned dark spots appearing
here and there upon the whiteness of the snow, and at these signs of the
termination of the feast he climbed up into the low branches of a spruce
and drew Roderick after him. Not until then did the wounded boy show
visible signs of life. Slowly he recovered from the faintness which had
overpowered him, and after a little, with some assistance from Wabi,
was able to place himself safely on a higher limb.
"That's the second time, Wabi," he said, reaching a hand down
affectionately to the other's shoulder. "Once from drowning, once from
the wolves. I've got a lot to even up with you!"
"Not after what happened to-day!"
The Indian's dusky face was raised until the two were looking into each
other's eyes, with a gaze of love, and trust. Only a moment thus, and
instinctively their glance turned toward the lake. The wolf-pack was in

plain view. It was the biggest pack that Wabi, in all his life in the
wilderness, had ever seen, and he mentally figured that there were at
least half a hundred animals in it. Like ravenous dogs after having a
few scraps of meat flung among them, the wolves were running about,
nosing here and there, as if hoping to find a morsel that might have
escaped discovery. Then one of them stopped on the trail and, throwing
himself half on his haunches, with his head turned to the sky like a
baying hound, started the hunt-cry.
"There's two packs. I thought it was too big for one," exclaimed the
Indian. "See! Part of them are taking up the trail and the others are
lagging behind gnawing the bones of the dead wolf. Now if we only
had our ammunition and the other gun those murderers got away from
us, we'd make a fortune. What--"
Wabi stopped with a suddenness that spoke volumes, and the
supporting arm that he had thrown around Rod's waist tightened until it
caused the wounded youth to flinch. Both boys stared in rigid silence.
The wolves were crowding around a spot in the snow half-way between
the tamarack refuge and the scene of the recent feast. The starved
animals betrayed unusual excitement. They had struck the pool of
blood and red trail made by the dying moose!
"What is it, Wabi?" whispered Rod.
The Indian did not answer. His black eyes gleamed with a new fire, his
lips were parted in anxious anticipation, and he seemed hardly to
breathe in his tense interest. The wounded boy repeated his question,
and as if in reply the pack swerved to the west and in a black silent
mass swept in a direction that would bring them into the tamaracks a
hundred yards from the young hunters.
"A new trail!" breathed Wabi. "A new trail, and a hot one! Listen! They
make no sound. It is always that way when they are close to a kill!"
As they looked the last of the wolves disappeared in the forest. For a
few moments there was silence, then a chorus of howls came from deep
in the woods behind them.

"Now is our chance," cried the Indian. "They've broken again, and their
game--"
He had partly slipped from his limb, withdrawing his supporting arm
from Rod's waist, and was about to descend to the ground when the
pack again turned in their direction. A heavy crashing in the underbrush
not a dozen rods away sent Wabi in a hurried scramble for his perch.
"Quick--higher up!" he warned excitedly. "They're coming out
here--right under us! If we can get up so that they can't see us, or smell
us--"
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when a huge shadowy bulk
rushed past them not more than fifty feet from the spruce in which they
had sought refuge. Both of the boys recognized it as a bull moose,
though it did not occur to either of them that it was the same animal at
which Wabi had taken a long shot that same day a couple of miles back.
In close pursuit came the ravenous pack. Their heads hung close to the
bloody trail, hungry, snarling cries coming from between their gaping
jaws, they swept across the