I have a Fight and a Fright: after which I make some Plans for the
Future and take up my Bed and move.
I don't know if the door really struck the wolf's nose or not, when I
slammed it shut, but it could not have lacked much of it. Poor Kaiser
rushed around the stove, faced the window, and began to bark so
excitedly that his voice trembled and sounded differently than I had
ever heard it before. I must have been a little excited myself, as I
stopped to bolt the door, just as if the wolf could turn the knob and
walk in. When I stepped back I met the wolf face to face gazing in the
window, with his eyes flaming and mouth a little open. He was gaunt
and hungry-looking. The rest of the pack were just coming up, howling
as loud as they could.
I ran to the desk and got the rifle; then I dropped on one knee and
fired across the room straight at the wolf's throat. He fell back in
the snow dead; and, of course, there was only a little round hole in
the window-pane. Everything would have been all right if it had not
been for a mean spirit of revenge in Kaiser, for no sooner did he see
his enemy fall back lifeless than with one jump he smashed through the
window and fell upon him savagely. He had not seen the rest of the
pack, but the next second half a dozen of them pounced on him. I dared
not fire again for fear of hitting him, so I dropped my gun, seized an
axe which I had used to split kindling-wood, and ran forward. There
was a cloud of snow outside, and then the dog tumbled back through the
window with one of the wolves, and they rolled over and over together
on the floor.
I got to the window just as a second wolf started to come through the
broken pane. I struck him full on the head with the axe, and he sank
down dead, half outside and half inside. The others that pressed
behind stopped as they saw his fate and stood watching the struggle on
the floor through the window.
Kaiser was making a good fight, but the wolf was too much for him, and
soon the dog was on his back with the wolf's jaws at his throat. This
was more than I could stand, and I turned and struck at the animal
with my axe. I missed him, but he let go his hold, snapped at the axe,
and when I started to strike again he turned and jumped through the
window over his dead companion and joined the howling pack on the
snow-drift in front of the house.
I seized the gun again and rested it across the dead wolf, firing full
at the impudent rascal who had come in and made Kaiser so much
trouble. It was a good shot, and the wolf went down in the snow. I
pumped up another cartridge, but the wolves saw that they were beaten,
and the whole pack turned tail and ran off as fast as their legs could
carry them. I took two more shots, but missed both. The wolves went
around Frenchman's Butte, never once stopping their howling.
As soon as they were out of sight I had a look at Kaiser. I found him
all blood from a wound in his neck, and one of his fore legs was so
badly crippled that the poor beast could not bear his weight on it. I
got some warm water and washed him off and bound up his throat. When
I was done I heard a strange yowl, and, looking about, spied Pawsy
clinging on top of the casing of the door which led into the
dining-room, with her tail as big as a bed-bolster. I suppose she had
gone up early in the wolf-fight, not liking such proceedings. She was
still in the greatest state of fright, and spat and scratched at me as
I took her down.
I next swept up the dog and wolf fur and cleaned the floor, and after
I had got the place set to rights nailed a board over the broken
window and carried the three dead wolves into the kitchen, where,
after supper, I skinned them, hoping that some day their hides would
go into the making of a fur overcoat for me; something which I
needed.
[Illustration: MAP OF TRACK'S END]
I don't know if it was the excitement of the fight, or the awful
stillness of the night, or what it was, but after I had finished my
work and sat down in the office to rest I fell into the utmost terror.
The awful lonesomeness pressed down upon me like a weight. I started
at the least sound; dangers I had never thought of before, such as
sickness and the like, popped into my mind clear as day, and, in
short, I was half dead from sheer fright. There was not a breath of
wind outside, or a sound, except once in a while a sharp crack of some
building as the frost warped a clapboard or sprung out a nail; and at
each crack I started as if I had been struck. The moon was shining
brightly, but it was much colder; the thermometer already marked
twenty degrees below zero.
Suddenly there came, clear and sharp, the savage howling of a pack of
wolves; it seemed at the very door. I jumped out of my chair, I was so
startled, and stood, I think, a most disgraceful picture of a coward.
Kaiser rose up on his three sound legs and began to growl. At last I
got courage to go to the window and peep out, with my teeth fairly
chattering. I could see them up the street, all in a bunch, and
offering a fine shot; but I was too frightened to shoot. After a while
they went off, and it was still again. I wondered which was worse,
their savage wailing or the awful stillness which made the ticking of
the clock seem like the blows of a hammer. I wished that there might
come another blizzard.
But at last I got so I could walk the floor; and as I went back and
forth I managed to look at things a little more calmly. The first
thing I decided on was that I must no longer, in good weather at
least, sleep in the hotel. It was easy to see, if the robbers came in
the night and found nobody in the other houses, that they would come
straight to the hotel. I made up my mind to take my bed to some empty
house where they would be little likely to look for any one, or where
they would not be apt to look until after I had had warning of their
coming.
Another thing which I decided on was that I must keep up two or three
more fires, and get up early every morning to start them. I saw, too,
that I ought to distribute the Winchesters more, and board up the
windows of the bank, and perhaps some of the other buildings, leaving
loopholes out of which to shoot. Still another point which I thought
of was this: Suppose the whole town should be burned? I wondered if I
could not find or make some place where I would be safe and would not
have to expose myself to the robbers if they stayed while the fire
burned, as they probably would. I thought of the cellars, but it did
not seem that I could make one of them do in any way.
My fright was, after all, a good thing, because it made me think of
all possible dangers, and consequently, as it seemed, ways to meet
them. It was at this time that the idea of a tunnel under the snow
across the street from the hotel to the bank occurred to me; but I was
not sure about this. Still, some way to cross the street without being
seen kept running in my mind. In short, I walked and thought myself
into a much better state of mind, and, though I still started at every
sound, I was no longer too frightened to control myself.
When it came bedtime I decided to follow out my plan for sleeping away
from the hotel without delay. There was an empty store building to the
north of the hotel. It was new, and had never been occupied. I had
often noticed that one of the second-story windows on the side was
directly opposite one in the hotel, and not over four feet away. I
carried up the ironing-board from the kitchen, opened the hotel
window, put the board over for a bridge, stepped across and entered
the vacant building.
I thought I had never seen a place quite so cold before; but I carried
over the mattress from my bed, together with several blankets, and
placed them in a small back room in the second story. The doors and
windows of the first story were all nailed and boarded up, and it
seemed about the last place that you would expect to find any one
sleeping. I left the dog and cat in the hotel, took one of the rifles
with me, and pulled in my drawbridge. I almost dropped it as I did so,
for at that instant the wolves set up another unearthly howling. I got
into bed as quick as I could. They went the length of the street with
their horrible noise; and then I heard them scratching at the doors
and windows of the barn. I could have shot them easily in the bright
moonlight; but I remember that I didn't do so.