CHAPTER VII
The Wolf Pack
One evening not long after their arrival at the camp the three friends,wearied after a day of strenuous activity, were whiling away the time inreminiscences of some of their past adventures. Mr. Melton, who made oneof the little group, listened in an interested fashion, and seemed littledisposed to interrupt the draught of "memories' mellow vine."
After a while they ceased talking, and a short silence ensued, which wasabruptly broken by Bert.
"Look here, fellows," he exclaimed, "here we are monopolizing theconversation, when we might be listening to some really interesting storyfrom Mr. Melton. I vote we petition the boss of this outfit to spin us ayarn."
"Second the motion," shouted Tom and Dick, and the vote was carried.
"You fellows seem to think I have a story on tap all the time," he saidwith an indulgent smile, "but the fact is I've told you about all theexciting things that ever happened to me, or that I ever heard of. Mymemory is squeezed as dry as a lemon."
"Just the same, I'll bet if you think real hard you can think ofsomething worth telling," said Bert; "try to, anyway, won't you?"
At first their host made no reply to this entreaty, but gazedruminatively off into space. At last he spoke.
"I suppose you boys think," he said, "that this country is pretty wildand uncivilized. But take my word for it, it is so tame now that it eatsout of your hand compared to what it once was. Why, now it's the rarestthing in the world that you ever see a wolf--that is, a real wolf," asTom started to interrupt. "What I'm thinking of is a real timber wolf,not one of the slinking coyotes you see every once in a while. There isno animal I'd go farther out of my way to avoid than a hungry timberwolf, and anybody else who knows anything at all about them will tell youthe same thing.
"They are half as big again as a coyote, and twice as strong. Why, afull-grown timber wolf will throw a running steer. Man is the only thingin the world they're afraid of, and they're not afraid of him whenthey're very hungry or running in packs. When driven to it they'll tacklealmost anything.
"I remember one time when I had occasion to go to Belford, a littletrading station some twenty or thirty miles from our camp, to secure somemuch-needed supplies. It was the middle of winter, and an exceptionallycold and severe winter at that. Fresh meat was naturally very scarce, andthe wolves were becoming bolder and more fearless every day. At nightthey used to prowl close about the camp, and howl until we got up andplugged one or two of their number, after which they generally dispersedfor a time.
"Well, as I have said, it became necessary for me to take the journey forsupplies, so one winter's morning I hitched up the team to a rude sortof home-made sled I had made and started off for Belford. The snow wasquite deep and, needless to say, there had not been enough travel alongthe trail to pack it down. The horses made heavy going of it, but we gotthere at last, and glad enough I was to get inside the shack that servedas the general store and warm my half frozen hands and feet at the redhot stove.
"After I was comfortable once more I made my purchases, and after loadingthem into the sleigh said good-by to the boys and started out on thereturn journey.
"It was a mighty long trip for the horses, but they were a young team,full of fire and life, and I thought we could make back the same daywithout much trouble. And likely enough we would have, with time tospare, if it hadn't started to snow; lightly at first, but gettingthicker all the time. The horses had started out toward home at a brisktrot, but they gradually slowed down to a walk, and once or twice I hadto stop them altogether to let them gather fresh strength.
"What with the slow going and the stops, dusk overtook us while we werestill some eight or ten miles from the camp. It couldn't have been laterthan four o'clock, but the short winter's day was even at that timedrawing to a close, and the falling snow made it darker still.
"But no thought of danger entered my head, and I merely swore a littleat the prospect of a late supper, for I was cold and hungry. Suddenly,however, the danger of my position was brought home to me in a verysudden manner. Away in the distance I heard the long drawn wolf-howl,than which I firmly believe there is no more blood-curdling sound inexistence. The horses pricked up their ears nervously and hastened theirlagging pace, and I myself felt a thrill go up my spine. It was not manyseconds before the first howl was answered by a second, and then a third.
"'A little faster, my beauties,' I said to the horses, 'we're not so farfrom home now, and it's up to us to get there pretty pronto.'
"The faithful beasts seemed to understand my words, and strained forwardin the harness. The snow had stopped by this time, but was pretty deep,and the sleigh was heavy. After trotting forward at a brisk pace for away they dropped back into a walk again.
"By now the howls had merged into a general chorus, and looking back overthe great expanse of open country over which we were traveling I couldsee numerous black specks traveling swiftly toward us, becoming largerevery second.
"I saw that I was in a mighty tight place, so got out my Winchesterrepeater and made sure that it was loaded. Then I stationed myself inthe back of the sleigh and waited for the enemy to approach.
"On they came, loping swiftly along, silent now that their quarry was inplain sight. I took careful aim at the foremost brute, and pulled thetrigger. My shot took effect, for with an unearthly scream the animaldropped, and for a few brief seconds his comrades stopped in order todevour him. At the sound of the rifle shot and the scream of the strickenwolf the horses plunged forward, all thought of fatigue gone in theiroverwhelming terror. The wolves were not easily to be outdistanced,though, and were soon after us again. They gained on us as though we werestanding still, and were soon close to the back of the sleigh. I pumpedbullets into them as fast as I could work my repeater, but by this timethey were so numerous that it seemed to have little effect. The horseswere slowing down again, even their fear of death unable to force themonward. I saw it was a case of lighten the sleigh or go under, so Icommenced throwing our precious supplies out of the sled. Bags of flourand sides of bacon flew through the air, and the wolves were momentarilychecked while fighting over the prizes.
"I knew that presently they would be up with us again, however, and then,with every resource gone, it looked as though my chances would be slim,indeed. But suddenly an inspiration shot through my mind.
"I drew up the trembling horses, and with a few slashes of my huntingknife cut the harness that held them to the sleigh. Then, with my riflein one hand, I swung onto the back of the larger of the two horses, andlet the other go. He was off like a streak, with my mount a close second.
"I glanced back over my shoulder, hoping that we could gain a littleground before the wolves quit their wrangling over the supplies I hadthrown out to them, but was disappointed. They were after us again infull cry, and my heart sank.
"I turned in the saddle and sent shot after shot into the racing pack,and succeeded in checking them a little, but not much. The horse wasgalloping at a good clip now, though, and I knew that if we could keepahead for a short time longer we would reach the camp.
"The wolves overtook us without seeming effort, however, and were soonsnapping about the horse's heels. My rifle was of little use now, andI drew my revolvers and blazed away at short range. Every shot tookeffect, but the wolves were nothing daunted. As I told you before, whenthe timber wolf gets his blood up he is absolutely fearless. No soonerdid one of the great gray brutes drop than another leaped into his place,his green eyes glowing balefully and his jaws snapping.
"When both my revolves were empty I clubbed my rifle, and lashed away atthe long-pointed heads that were so close to me. Once or twice one wouldcatch the butt of the gun in his teeth, and the marks are in the wood tothis day.
"Well, I was so busy fighting off the wolves that I had no time to noticehow near we were to camp. But suddenly my heart gave a great leap as Iheard a yell in front of me and recognized the voice of my partner.
"I looked ahead and saw t
hat I had almost reached our shack. My partnerwas standing in the doorway, rifle in hand, and even as I looked camerunning out toward me. In a few seconds the faithful horse had carried mealmost to the shack, and I leaped to the ground. My partner took up astand alongside me, and as the wolves came on we cleared a space about uswith the clubbed rifles. We realized we couldn't keep that up long,though, so we retreated to the cabin. We backed in, but were unable toshut the door before one big gray brute squeezed inside. He was nothingdismayed at being separated from his companions, but leaped straight forus. I fetched him a stunning blow with the butt of my rifle, and beforehe could recover we both fell upon him and despatched him with ourhunting knives. That was about as close a shave as I ever had," and as hefinished his story Mr. Melton shook his head.
"I should think it must have been," said Bert, drawing a long breath,"but what did the rest of the wolves do when they found themselves shutout?"
"Oh, my partner and I shot at them from the window until we had killedover a dozen, and the rest, finding that they could not get at us, tookthemselves off."
"Did they kill the horses?" asked Tom.
"No," replied Mr. Melton, "for some reason they didn't chase them. Thenext morning we found them both outside the shack none the worse fortheir adventure. And a mighty lucky thing for us it was, because the lossof our horses then would have meant the failure of all our plans."
"I suppose you went back and got the sled the next day, didn't you?"inquired Dick.
"Oh, yes," replied his host, "we recovered it all right, but then we hadto go back to the settlement for more grub, of course. But I was so happyat having escaped with my life that I didn't mind a little thing likethat."
The three boys laughingly voted Mr. Melton's story a "curly wolf," andthen, as it was getting late, trooped off to bed.
Bert Wilson in the Rockies Page 7