drew back with a savage snarl, and was about to spring forward when Hugo brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired. With a wild yell the wolf leaped into the air, and dropped upon the ground. Taken aback, his followers hesitated and one by one they fell before the unerring shots of the unseen marksman. Not until five had fallen did the rest retreat, and then slowly and wrathfully they drew away among the darkness of the forest. But Hugo’s blood was now up and he feared the wolves as if they were so many kittens. He stepped quickly toward them, refilling the magazine of his rifle as he did so. He could see their slinking forms now, and again into their midst he poured messages of death. Yells of pain and baffled rage followed each shot. The few remaining wolves faced the trapper, but ere they could spring, they, too, were rolling in the snow. It was a veritable carnage of death from which only one brute escaped by leaping aside and dashing off pell-mell among the trees.
When the fight was over, a grim smile overspread Hugo’s face. Then he turned toward the surprised and staring women.
He was upon the point of stepping forward and calming their fears by telling them that the danger was past. He changed his mind, however, drew back a few paces among the trees, and stood with his eyes fixed intently upon Marion’s face. A great longing was tugging at his heart such as he had not known for years. He recalled the days he had played with her in his old happy home. She had changed since then, but she was his child. How often he had thought of her during his wanderings and long lonely night vigils. In fact, she had been seldom out of his mind. His affection for her had saved him from developing into a
