CHAPTER XVIII

BROUGHT TO BAY BY THE WOLF PACK

"WHAT does this mean, Dick?" Roger asked, some days later, when they started to make a fire in the morning and found the air quite cold. "Does winter come so early in this northwestern country?"

"Oh! no, it isn't that," replied the other; "but, since the wind has whipped into the north during the night, and there's been a storm somewhere, we're in for a cool spell. I hope frost is far from us, because we have so much to do before that time. But a fire will feel good, and I think we might take chances."

They had not seen any signs of Indians for some time now, but Dick was too cautious a boy to relax his vigilance on this account. Nevertheless, after the light of day had come, he believed they could make a fire out of smokeless wood that was not apt to betray their presence in the vicinity.

During this day they journeyed through dense timber, which was quite a change from crossing the wide, level stretches of country lying along so much of the upper reaches of the Missouri.

All the time they had to make sure of several things, especially the presence of the river not far away; and then the important fact that the exploring expedition sent out through the efforts of President Jefferson was still ahead of them.

It would have been a sad joke on the boys had they managed in some manner to outstrip the soldiers and voyageurs with Captains Lewis and Clark, and in this way gone ahead of them.

To make positive that this was not the case they were compelled to keep close to the river, looking for signs of an abandoned camping-place; and when such was discovered they found means to read the telltale evidence that denoted just how many days' journey in advance were those they sought.

It was while they were jogging contentedly along during this particular morning that Dick suddenly drew rein, and raised a hand with a movement that his companion understood meant that he was to listen.

From some point ahead they caught peculiar sounds--a snapping and crackling, accompanied by dull thuds that mystified Roger greatly.

"Why, what can that he, Dick?" he asked, turning a perplexed face toward his companion, and at the same time fingering his always ready gun.

"Let's move slowly forward, and find out for ourselves," was Dick's suggestion, which appeared to please his cousin, since both at once urged the horses ahead.

As they kept on the noise increased in volume; and accompanying the other sounds they could now hear snortings, and what seemed to be the snarls of beasts. Then came a plain yelp as of pain, followed by more prancings, and another of those dull thuds, as of a heavy body striking another, the impact causing the hollow sound.

"Seems like a fight," said Roger, in a cautious tone, not removing his eyes from in front, where he now believed he could see the bushes waving, as if various objects were in motion beyond.

"That's just what it must be," Dick agreed.

In another minute they had reached a point where they could look upon one of the tragedies of the border, such as were in progress in season and out, hundreds of years before Columbus ever sailed into the western seas, to find a new route to the East Indies, and thereby discovered a new continent instead.

A noble old stag was at bay, with a pack of hungry wolves trying their best to drag him down. Already had he placed two of the gray beasts on their backs, and several of the others seemed to have suffered from contact with the sharp points of his antlers.

They had succeeded in running him down; perhaps a wound in one of his legs had prevented the game old fellow from escaping as easily as he might have done under ordinary conditions. The boys never knew how it came about; but there the stag was, with lowered head, doing his best to defend himself against his foes.

No doubt, had the combatants been left to fight it out in their own way, the tenacious wolves would in the end have pulled the old stag down, and made a meal off his carcase; for he seemed pretty well exhausted by this time, and there were still half a dozen of the savage brutes able to fight.

But Roger could not stand such a spectacle. He sympathized with the gallant old buck, and, slipping from his horse, bow and arrow in hand, crept forward, meaning to put in a few "licks," as he called them, in favor of the animal that was outnumbered six to one.

Dick sat there, holding his rifle, and not wishing to waste any of his precious ammunition unless it seemed necessary. He knew he could depend on his comrade not to injure the brave buck, whose tough meat would be of little use to them for food. And, after the way in which he had fought the whole wolf pack, it seemed as though he deserved a better fate than being shot down.

The boy with the Indian bow succeeded in creeping close enough to get a good view of the performance. The actors in the forest tragedy were too excited and intent on their business to notice anything else. Even the usually wary pests of the timber were goaded to fury by this determined resistance on the part of their intended prey, and seemed wild to bring him down.

Roger never enjoyed anything more in his life than when he took a quick aim, and sent a feathered arrow flying toward the nearest of the pack. The beast went over in a heap, and Dick chuckled when he saw the end of the arrow projecting from that gray side.

Working like a machine Roger fitted another missile to his how, and again that fatal twang announced that the badgered stag had a new ally close by; for a second wolf rolled over, howling dismally.

By that time the balance of the pack began to awaken to the fact that there was something strange in the actions of their companions. Perhaps they allowed themselves to ignore the wounded stag for a moment, and sniff the air. At any rate, there was a sudden flight on the part of the four animals still able to run; and the stag found himself master of the field.

"Hurrah!" shouted Roger, unable to restrain his feeling of elation as he stepped in sight, waving his foxskin cap in triumph.

"Take care," called out Dick, warningly, "or the stag may turn on you; he doesn't know that you mean to be his friend; and it would be a shame to have to kill him, after the handsome way he stood off that pack!"

But the animal, while half disposed to attack this newcomer, being doubtless flushed with his apparent victory over the wolves, presently deemed discretion the better part of valor; for, turning, he went off at a limping pace.

"Good-by, and good luck!" called Roger after him, as he stepped forward to knock one of the wounded wolves on the head with his hatchet, so as to recover his two arrows.

Under ordinary circumstances the boys would gladly have halted to remove the skins of the wolves that had fallen, where the antlers of the stag had not ruined the pelts; but just now they could not think of such a thing. Their horses had all they could safely carry, and it would be the height of folly to think of increasing the load.

Although these lads had done considerable hunting during the last five or six years this happened to be the first time they had ever been given a chance to witness one of those forest battles which took place so often. True, once they had found the skeletons of two deer in the woods, and from the fact that their antlers were interlocked tightly, so that they could not possibly be pulled apart, it was evident that in a fight the bucks had become so attached to each other in this way that they could not separate, and that consequently they had starved in the midst of plenty, falling victims to their own passions.

On other occasions, when their journey led them through the vast prairies, other matters engaged their attention. Of course they had to make camp where night found them; and often it was far out on the billowy sea of grass, where they built their small fire in a hole dug in the ground, and spent the night in watchfulness and security.

But sometimes these nights were not as quiet and peaceful as they could wish. Until recently neither of the boys had seen a cowardly coyote; but often these scavengers of the plains seemed to scent the fresh meat which the boys had with them; and, taking up positions a short distance from the camp, they would make night hideous with their yelping.

After the boys had become accustomed to this discordant chorus they minded it very little. Had it been wolves they would have kept constantly on the alert lest the treacherous beasts pull down one of the horses; but these thieving coyotes did not have the courage to attempt such a bold deed, and could only hang around, watching for a chance to steal something when no one was looking. They might be called the sneak-thieves of the plains, while the gray wolf might be likened to the dashing pirate--bold, aggressive, and sometimes undaunted.

There was one night when these beggarly coyotes seemed to be more persistent than ever. Roger remarked that they came in closer, and several times he looked as though he would like nothing better than to go out and try to "pot" a few by means of his ever-ready bow.

However, Dick thought the animals hardly worth noticing, since their cowardly traits made them afraid to venture close enough to steal anything.

Of course he raised no objections when his companion declared he meant to set a trap, and teach at least one sneaking coyote a lesson. Roger was a clever hand at all sorts of snares and liked nothing better than laying one, whereby he might match his wits against those of a cunning beast.

So, taking his hatchet, and some bits of wood which they had brought along in case of need in cooking supper, he began pounding these down into the soft ground. In this way he constructed what seemed to be an avenue, about a foot broad, leading up to the place where he expected to place the bait of his gun-trap.

Finally he fixed his rifle in such a manner that it aimed directly down this enclosed section, and if it were discharged any creature between the parallel lines of stakes would be very apt to get shot.

When the trap was set Roger chuckled, and seemed to take considerable boyish pleasure in anticipating the surprise of the hairy thief, when, upon creeping stealthily along the limited space, he snapped at the tempting bait, only to have it apparently develop a sting, accompanied by a crash like thunder.

Dick had watched all these preparations with amusement. He knew how much pleasure the other took in managing these little surprises, for he had often observed Roger spending time fixing a trap for a fox, or it might be a bear. It had become what might be called a hobby with the boy, and in such matters he had few equals among the lads of the St. Louis settlement.

"Remember, and don't be frightened out of your skin if you hear a shot some time to-night, Dick," was the warning the maker of the trap gave, as he pronounced his work fit for business.

"I'll try not to," observed the other, then adding: "and I hope that if it succeeds, as you expect, the sound won't bring any hostile Indians down on us. But at sundown there was nothing in sight, and that was why we dared to have our fire."

It was just half an hour later that the boys jumped as though they had been shot, when the gun went off with a tremendous report. Dick immediately burst out laughing.

"That's a joke on you, Roger, as sure as anything!" he exclaimed, when he could speak; "telling me not to be alarmed when your trap worked, and then nearly having a fit yourself. But let's look, and see if you got your game."

There was no doubt about that, for a dead coyote was found in the passageway between the stakes, looking for all the world like a thin, half-starved dog. This was the first time either of the boys had seen one of the animals close, and Roger was disgusted to think he had wasted a charge of powder and a bullet on the miserable beast.

"That trap will do for once, but I'm done shooting such scurvy things," he declared, as he dragged the game out a short distance, and left it, in the hope that some of the other coyotes would dispose of it before morning; which they certainly did, for they could soon be heard snarling and quarreling as though there were too many guests at the banquet.

After that, when the coyotes howled, and made things disagreeable, Roger would take up his gun, fondle it for a minute, as temptation whispered at his heart, and then with a shake of his head he would place it once more on the ground as though he could not be coaxed to come down to such poor shooting. And so long as the miserable brutes kept clear of the camp, and did not annoy their horses, the chances were that they would be left alone to continue their nightly serenade.