CHAPTER XIII

LOST IN A BLIZZARD

To Joe and Harry the sight of so many half-starved wolves was certainly a dismaying one. They were vicious-looking creatures, and the fact that the first arrivals had quickly devoured the beast they had brought low proved that they would stop at nothing in order to satisfy their hunger.

Without wasting words, each of the youths fired into the pack, and by good luck two more of the creatures were killed. The others retreated for a minute, but then came forward once more, to rend the dead bodies and snarl and fight over the choicest pieces.

“That was lucky,” said Joe. “But those dead ones won’t last long.”

“What had we best do?” questioned his brother. “Run for it, or climb into the tree?”

Before an answer could be given to this query three of the wolves advanced on the lads, snarling more savagely than ever. Not wishing to be attacked before he could re-load, Harry leaped up into the lower branches of the tree in which the two deer still hung. Joe followed, and both climbed still higher out of harm’s way. More wolves came up, until eight were stationed at the foot of the tree, all snarling and yelping and leaping, their polished teeth showing plainly, and their eyes reflecting the cruelty of their natures.

“We are in a pickle now, and no error!” groaned Harry. “What in the world are we to do next?”

“Well, I reckon you can take another snap shot if you wish,” answered Joe, dryly.

“This is no joking matter, Joe. I feel like smashing my camera over their heads.”

“The best thing we can do is to stay here.”

“I’m going to kill another wolf or two if I can.”

Harry re-loaded and took careful aim at the largest wolf in the pack. But the beast was wary, and just as the young hunter pulled the trigger it leaped to one side, so that the shot flew wide of its mark, striking another wolf in the tail, causing an added howl of pain and rage, but no serious damage.

After that the wolves seemed inclined to keep their distance. Occasionally one would draw closer, with nose uplifted, sniffing the blood of the deer, but as soon as one or the other of the lads raised his gun the beast would slink back behind a tree, bush, or rock.

“I guess they are going to play a waiting game,” said Joe, after a dreary half hour had passed.

“Do you think they expect us to come down?”

“They know we won’t want to remain up here forever.”

“If we only had something with which to scare them.”

“Perhaps we can fix up something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was thinking of those deer. What have you got in the way of powder and shot?”

Harry showed his store, and Joe looked over what he possessed.

“We’ll fix ’em,” said Joe, getting out his knife.

With great care he cut a chunk of venison, and wrapped it in a piece of the deer skin. Inside of the skin he placed a quantity of powder and shot, and to this added a fuse, a rude affair, but one that looked as if it might burn. Then he cut several other pieces of venison.

“Now feed these to the wolves, one at a time,” he said to his brother.

Harry understood, and threw one of the bits far out from the tree. A wolf came and sniffed at it, and then began to eat. Another bit brought several other of the beasts up, and then the whole pack crowded up close.

“Now then, take that, and see how you like it!” cried Joe, and, lighting the fuse, he threw the big piece down in the very center of the pack. “Now use your gun, Harry!” he cried, and snatched up his own firearm.

There was a moment of suspense, and then bang! went the charge in the venison, causing several of the wolves to fall back badly wounded. An instant later crack! crack! went the two shotguns of the young hunters.

When the smoke cleared away it was found that three of the wolves were dead, and two others were seriously, if not mortally, wounded. The slaughter thoroughly scared those which remained, and in a twinkling they turned and disappeared into the forest, some howling and yelping as they ran.

“That is the time we did it!” cried Joe. “They’ve learned a lesson they won’t forget.”

“Will they come back?”

“I hardly think so. Runnell told me once that when a wolf is thoroughly scared he’ll run for miles before he stops.”

The wounded beasts were drawing away as fast as their hurts would permit, and in a few minutes only the dead animals were in sight. With caution the young hunters descended to the ground and looked around among the trees.

“They are gone, that’s certain,” announced Joe. “I don’t believe we’ll see or hear of them again.”

By this time it had begun to snow a little. Now that the enemy were gone each found himself hungry.

“We’ll get a hasty meal, and then start for camp,” said Harry. “I shan’t feel perfectly safe until I’m back with the others.”

But as the meal progressed they grew calmer, and even examined the dead wolves with interest.

“We’ll have a tale to tell when we get back,” said Joe.

“Let us take the tails to verify our tale,” laughed Harry, and cut off the wolves’ tails without further words.

It was not until half an hour later that they had their drags fixed, ready to start back for Pine Island. By this time the snow was coming down heavily.

“We’re up against a regular storm now, that’s certain,” came from Joe, as he surveyed the darkening sky.

“Well, I declare, if I haven’t lost my pocket-knife!” ejaculated Harry, as he searched his pockets. “It’s the new one, too—the one Laura and Bessie gave me on my last birthday.”

Both, of the youths began a search that lasted another quarter of an hour, when the knife was found among the branches of one of the drags.

“And now don’t let us lose any more time,” came from Joe. “The wind is rising, and we’ll have all we can do to get back to the lodge before night.”

He was right about the wind. It was already moaning and sighing among the pines, and causing the snow to swirl in several directions. The increased cold also affected them, and caused Harry to shiver.

“I’d give as much as a dollar to be back to camp,” he announced. “Hauling this load is going to be no picnic.”

“Follow in my footsteps, Harry,” came from his brother, and Joe led the way out of the wood and down to the lake shore. Here it seemed to snow and blow harder than ever, and the snow was piling up in drifts that looked far from inviting.

For a moment the boys thought of turning back and going into a temporary camp until the storm should subside. But they knew that Fred and Runnell would worry over their non-appearance, and so pushed on in as straight a course as they could lay down.

The farther they got out on the lake the more the snow swirled around them. The snow was now as hard as salt, and beat into their faces and down their necks in spite of all they could do to protect themselves. Thus less than half a mile was covered, when Harry called a halt.

“I—I can’t get my breath,” he gasped. “Joe, this is fearful.”

“I guess it’s something of a blizzard, Harry. Come on, we can’t stay here.”

“Hadn’t we better go back?”

“It’s just as bad to go back as it is to go ahead.”

“I can’t see a dozen yards in any direction.”

“It’s the same with me.”

“Then how do you know that you are going in the right direction?”

“Oh, the island is over there, isn’t it?”

“I should say a little to the left of that.”

“Well, it’s between those two points, and we can’t miss the shore, even if we don’t strike the lodge. As soon as we get close enough we can fire a gun as a signal to Fred and old Runnell.”

Once more they pushed on, in the very teeth of the blizzard, for such the storm had now become. The wind roared and shrieked around them, often tumbling them and the drags over in the snowdrifts. Soon even Joe was all but winded, and he willingly enough crouched beside Harry and the drags for a brief rest.

“This is certainly fierce,” he gasped out. “I never dreamed it would get so bad.”

“I only hope we can hold out until we reach some part of the island. If we can’t——” Harry did not finish, but the sigh he gave meant a good deal.

“Oh, you don’t want to give up so easily, Harry,” cried his brother, bracing up. “We’ve simply got to get over, or else go back to where we came from. We can’t stay out on the lake all night. We’d be frozen stiff.”

Once more they arose and caught hold of the drags. But now the loads were much too heavy for them.

“Let us take one and leave the other,” suggested Joe.

Feeling that that was the best they could do, they dropped Harry’s deer, and both caught hold of the drag Joe had been pulling. With their burdens thus lightened, they pushed on several hundred yards farther. But that was Harry’s limit, and again he sank down, this time as if ready to faint from exhaustion.

“It’s no—no use,” he sighed. “I can’t go an—another step!”

“Oh, Harry, you must! We can’t stop here!”

“I know that, but m—m—my legs feel as if they weighed a—a ton.”

“Here, give me your hand. We’ll let the other deer go, too. Perhaps old Runnell can bring it in in the morning.”

“It’s a shame to leave the game——”

“I know, but we have got to think of ourselves first. I don’t think we’re so very far from the island. I’ll shoot my gun off as a signal.”

Joe did so, and listened for fully a minute for an answering shot. But no sound but the roaring and shrieking of the wind reached their ears. He slung his gun over his shoulder and literally yanked his brother up.

“Courage, Harry, courage!” he whispered. “You musn’t give in this way. Brace up, old boy!”

“I’m so—so sleepy,” came back, drowsily. “I really can’t go on.”

Yet urged by Joe, Harry took a score of steps or more. But now his teeth were chattering from the cold, and he could not stand, try his best. He sank a dead weight on the ice.

Filled with a new fear, Joe caught his brother up in his arms.

“If I leave him here he’ll surely die!” he muttered, hoarsely. “I must get him to the island somehow! I must!”

Throwing the semi-unconscious form over his shoulder, he staggered on until he came to a deep ridge of snow. Here he stumbled and fell. He tried to get up, but his shaking limbs refused to hold him.

“It’s no use,” he thought. “It’s all over.”

He caught sight of Harry’s gun, and reaching for it, pulled the trigger. He listened, and fancied he heard an answering shot. But he was not sure. It might have been only the wind.

“If only the others knew!” he murmured, and then sank down beside Harry, all but unconscious from the cold and exhaustion.