scarcely had he spoken when the wolf was at Dave's very feet, glaring ferociously into the youth's face. Dave wanted to fire at the animal, but only a click of the hammer followed the pulling of the pistol's trigger.
It was a moment of peril, but Roger came to the rescue. Not to hit his chum, he ran around to the wolf's side and blazed away twice in rapid succession. This was too much for the wolf, and with only a grunt it rolled over and stretched out dead.
"Good for you, Roger!" said Dave. "If you hadn't Look out, here come the other wolf!"
Dave was right: undaunted by the death of its mate, the last wolf—the largest of the pack of four—had leaped up through the snow and darkness. It was so hungry that the smell of blood maddened it beyond all endurance. It leaped so close to Dave it brushed his legs, then grabbed the sheep and began to drag the carcass rapidly through the snow.
"He's game, I must say!" cried Roger, and reloaded his pistol, while Dave did the same. Then came a shout from the sheepfold and the mountaineer put in an appearance, followed by Granbury Lapham.
The man of the place was angry, for three of his best sheep had been killed. He blazed away as
