position, thinking of the past and speculating on the future. He thought of his sister Laura and wondered how soon they would meet, and if she and Jessie would become friends.
"What's that?"
The boy leaped to his feet, and the sudden movement aroused his father. Both listened to a yelping and a growling at a distance. The yelping grew louder and louder, while the growling grew fainter.
"I know what it is!" cried Dave, at length. "Some wolves have gotten on the trail of those wounded bears. Now there will be a battle royal!"
"You must be right, Dave. Hark! The wolves must number a dozen or more."
"Sounds like about half a hundred to me, father."
The battle took place at the far end of the forest of firs and gradually grew fainter and fainter. Mr. Porter shook his head doubtfully.
"I don't like this, Dave."
"What, aren't you glad that the bears have been attacked? I am."
"It Isn't that. If those wolves want more meat they'll follow up that bloody trail—and it leads directly over here."
"Phew! I never thought of that. I'll stir up the fire—that will help to keep them at a distance."
