they marched and countermarched in silent, mysterious battalions.
And while the tired ones slept, gaunt, hairy forms, with fiery lolling tongues, and blazing eyes, loped along the upper ridge, and approached the camp. The wolves were hungry, for food was scarce. Only in an extreme emergency did these somewhat cowardly creatures venture near human abodes. It was the dogs which attracted them now. They were in desperate straits, as no deer, moose, or any living thing had crossed their path for days. Only when starving would they unite, for strength and safety lay in numbers. There were but twelve of them thus banded together, but mad with hunger, they were a pack to be dreaded.
The dogs scented them, and their savage growls and whines of fear aroused the sleeping women. Zell was first awake, and in an instant realized what was the matter. The fire was burning low, so seizing several dry sticks she threw them upon the hot coals. In another minute Marion was on her feet, looking fearfully to the right among the trees where the wolves were gathered. As the fire increased in strength, and the bright flames illumined the camping grounds for several rods around, she was enabled to detect dim, slinking forms not far away.
“Will they attack us?” she asked, laying a nervous hand upon Zell’s arm.
“Not likely now,” was the reply. “They are after the dogs, but this fire will keep them back. Look at that big, bold brute there,” and she pointed to a large wolf which had ventured threateningly near. “I’m going to try a shot at him.”
Drawing forth her revolver, she took a quick steady aim, and fired. A yell of pain split the night, as the
