CHAPTER X

AMONG THE WOLVES

It was a moment of extreme peril, and each of the party realized it fully. A wounded deer is an ugly creature to deal with at the best, and these animals were both wounded and half starved, for the recent heavy falls of snow had cut them off from nearly all of their food supplies.

“Jump, Joe!” screamed Harry, in terror. “Jump, or you will be killed!”

“Save me!” screamed Fred. “The deer is going to bore me through!”

The words had scarcely been uttered, when Joel Runnell’s rifle rang out, and the deer that had attacked Fred fell over, paralyzed from a bullet through its backbone. Then Fred scrambled up, and ran for dear life down the slope leading to the lake.

“Come on!” he yelled. “Come on! I’ve had enough of deer hunting! Come on, before all of us are killed!”

Harry could not bear to see Joe in such dire peril, and leaping up to the side of the deer he discharged the second barrel of his shotgun with all possible speed.

The aim was none of the best, but some of the shot penetrated the animal’s hind leg, and caused it to start back limping. At this, Joe tried to scramble up, but found himself too weak to do so. The deer then turned upon Harry, and that youth met the onslaught by hitting the game over the head with his gun-stock.

“That’s the way to do it!” shouted Joel Runnell, who was coming up as fast as he could, hunting knife in hand. “Don’t let him get away to buck you. Crowd him up!” And Harry crowded the deer that was now inclined to flee. A moment later the old hunter was at hand, and, catching the game by one prong, plunged the keen knife into the upturned throat; and then the brief but fierce fight came to an end.

“Say, but that was hot!” gasped Joe, when he at last arose. “I was afraid I was a goner, sure!”

“Where is Fred?” asked old Runnell, looking around as he reloaded.

“He ran away,” answered Harry. He raised his voice: “Fred, where are you? Come back, the fight is over.”

“Are those deer dead?” came in a trembling voice from a distance.

“Yes.”

At this news the stout youth came limping back, one snowshoe on and the other under his arm. He looked rather sheepish.

“Thought you’d leg it, did you?” said old Runnell, quizzically. “Can’t say I blame you much.”

“I—I guess I was looking for that other deer,” answered Fred, lamely. His companions could not help but smile, but they did not let the stout youth see it.

“Well, we got one apiece, after all,” said Joel Runnell, after a pause, during which they made sure that all of the game were dead. “Boys, I can tell you that we’ve been lucky. It isn’t likely that we’ll make a better haul than this all the time we are out.”

“Excepting we get on the track of a moose,” said Joe.

“So far as I know, there are no longer any moose in this vicinity. I haven’t shot one for four years. As for meat, there is nothing better than the deer we have just brought down.”

How to get the game to the lodge was the next problem, and after a conference it was decided to pile two of the deer on a drag, and take them over at once. The others were hung high in a tree, so as to protect them from other wild animals.

“I reckon we’ve had sport enough for one day,” said Joel Runnell. “By the time we get these two deer to the lodge everybody will be fagged out.”

For drags they cut long sweeps of pine. On these the deer were tightly bound with ropes, and while the old hunter and Fred pulled one, Joe and Harry pulled the other.

As they reached the edge of the lake Joe caught sight of some game in a nearby tree. They were partridge, and he and old Runnell brought down six. The others flew away with a rush that was exceedingly noisy.

“Now we can have a potpie worth eating!” exclaimed Joe. “I’ll make one just like Grandma Anderson’s.”

To Harry, who was tired out, the walk over the lake appeared endless, but just as the sun was setting they came in sight of the lodge.

“Home again!” sang out Joe. “Home again, and glad——Hello!”

He stopped short, and looked at the snow before him. There were prints that filled him with wonder.

“What is it, Joe?” asked Fred.

“Unless I am mistaken these marks were made by the hoofs of a horse!”

“They were,” said Joel Runnell, after an examination. “Somebody has been around here on horseback.”

“Perhaps we’ve got a visitor,” suggested Harry. “Let’s hurry up and see.”

Increasing their speed they soon reached the lodge. The hoof prints were there, and they could plainly see where somebody had leaped from the horse and entered the building.

“Hope it wasn’t a thief,” said Joe.

The door was fastened just as they had left it, and inside of the lodge nothing appeared to be disturbed. But on the table was a note, pinned down by a fork stuck in the crack of the boards. The note ran as follows:

“You ain’t wanted here, and you had better clear out before Hiram Skeetles has the law on you.

“Daniel Marcy.”

“Well, listen to that!” ejaculated Joe. “What right has Dan Marcy to leave such a message as this?”

“Evidently Hiram Skeetles got him to do it,” said Joel Runnell. “Remember, Skeetles claims to own the island.”

“But he doesn’t own it,” answered Joe, warmly. “And I, for one, shan’t budge.”

“Nor I,” added Harry.

“So say we all!” sang out Fred. “Just let Marcy or old Skeetles show himself, and we’ll give him a piece of our mind, eh, fellows?”

“Nobody ever tried to stop my hunting here before,” said Joel Runnell. “As I told you before, so far as I know, the island is under the care of Sheriff Clowes. As to who owns the island, that is for the courts to decide.”

“Then we’ll quit on notice from the sheriff, and not before,” said Joe.

“It’s a wonder Dan Marcy didn’t steal something,” put in Harry. “I don’t think he’d be above doing such a thing.”

“Oh, don’t paint him any blacker than he is, Harry,” returned his brother; nevertheless, all looked around the lodge with interest, to make sure that nothing was missing.

“I suppose Marcy has gone to old Skeetles to report,” said Joel Runnell, later on, while they were broiling a choice cut of deer meat. “And if that’s so we’ll hear from him again before long.”

The hunt had given everybody a good appetite, and they sat over the well-cooked venison a long time, praising the meal and talking over the prospects for more sport. There was a good deal of enthusiasm, and, in the midst of this, Marcy and Hiram Skeetles were for the time being forgotten.

It being New Year’s night they did not go to bed as early as usual, but instead sat up eating nuts and listening to several good hunting stories old Runnell had to tell. They also talked of home, until Harry grew just a bit homesick and changed the subject.

With nothing to make them get up early, all hands slept the following morning until after eight o’clock. The old hunter was the first to arise, and he had the breakfast well under way before the others rolled out.

“I’ve been a-thinking it over,” said old Runnell. “Perhaps one of us had better stay at the lodge while the others go for that other deer meat. Then, if Marcy comes, or Hiram Skeetles, there will be somebody here to talk to him.”

“I’d just as lief stay,” said Fred, who did not relish hauling the load of meat to Snow Lodge.

“Supposing you and Runnell both stay,” suggested Joe. “I am sure Harry and I can get the deer over without much trouble.”

The matter was discussed while they were eating breakfast, and Joe’s plan was adopted. A little later he and Harry set off, each with his gun, and Harry with his ever-present camera in addition. So far Harry had taken, besides the game, several pictures of the lodge and its surroundings, and had already laid away a strip of six films for development when he should get home.

“I hope we’re able to bring down something on this trip,” said Harry, as they trudged along over the lake.

“We can’t expect to bring in something every trip we make, Harry. If we did we’d be the greatest Gun Club in the United States. Many a hunter goes out all day and doesn’t so much as see a squirrel.”

“Oh, I know that. I really think that so far our luck has been remarkably good.”

“It won’t keep up. Our shooting in this vicinity will scare the game away from the lodge. As the days go by we’ll have to go farther and farther away for something worth bringing down.”

The journey across the lake was made without incident, but scarcely had they struck the mainland when a distant howl greeted their ears.

“What is that?” came from Harry.

“It’s the howl of a wolf,” answered his brother. “I shouldn’t wonder but what he has scented the deer meat.”

“If he has we may have some trouble in getting the deer home.”

“Oh, I guess we can easily take care of one wolf.”

“But there may be more, Joe. Wolves generally travel in packs, you know.”

“Yes, but I don’t hear any others.”

“He may be calling his mates.”

They moved forward up the rise, and presently came in sight of the game. Under the tree where the deer was strung up sat two wolves, gazing wistfully at the meat.

“Two of them here, and one below!” cried Joe. “That makes three.”

“Wait! let me get a picture!” whispered Harry, and brought his camera into use without delay. It certainly made a good scene, and he got as close as he could ere he pressed the button. Then he took up his shotgun and blazed away, and Joe did the same.

Neither of the wolves was much hurt, and both limped into the woods growling savagely. The growl was answered from a distance, and in a very few minutes four other wolves appeared, ranging themselves in a semicircle at what they considered a safe distance.

“The impudent beggars!” murmured Joe, and, bringing his shotgun up, he let drive at the nearest wolf. This time his aim was true, and the wolf leaped up, to fall dead. Instantly the other wolves fell upon their dead companion, rending the carcass limb from limb.

“I must say I don’t like this,” declared Harry, in something of a nervous voice. “It looks as if they meant business. As soon as that wolf is gone they’ll turn on us again.”

“Here comes a whole pack of wolves!” shouted Joe.

He was right, a distant yelping and howling proclaimed their approach. Soon they burst into view, at least twenty strong, and in a twinkling the two young hunters found themselves completely surrounded!