brute leaped into the air, and vanished into the darkness.
“I hit him,” Zell exulted, while a smile wreathed her face. “I wish I had my rifle, then I could easily settle the whole pack.”
“Do you suppose you killed him?” Marion asked.
“Oh, no, he was too far away. If I had killed him, the rest of the wolves would be eating him up by now. I must not waste any more cartridges upon them at that distance, as I shall need them if they come too close.”
For some time, which seemed to Marion very long, they watched and waited for the next move on the part of the lurking brutes. The dogs huddled together close to the little lean-to, either whining with fear, or growling with anger. Their implacable enemies were just beyond that fire-lit circle, and they knew only too well the object of their visit. The dogs were ever ready and willing to fight with one another, for there was always a chance to win. But against those gaunt, savage, and famine-stricken fiends of the wilderness they would be helpless. Whenever the wolves approached nearer, they shrank closer to the women for protection. Bolder now became the enemy, and although Zell fired two more shots into their midst, it only deterred them for a few minutes. They circled the encampment several times, always drawing nearer, especially back of the lean-to. The situation was becoming critical, for at any minute they might hurl themselves upon the helpless ones crouching near the fire. Zell kept her revolver in readiness, although she was well aware how little she could do should a rush ensue.
