A STAND IN GRIM EARNEST
Freed from restraint Stacy's horse darted into the brake. There were
now two horseless boys.
It was Tad to the rescue, firing, kicking, slashing with the
bush-knife. Two of the bear hounds leaped into the rescue work with
him.
"Are you hurt?" cried Tad.
"I--I don't know," replied Stacy, breathing hard.
"Get up and fight, or we're goners!"
"Oh, I'll fight!"
Instead of being frightened, the fat boy's face was flushed with
anger when he got to his feet. In the fall he had lost his rifle and
his revolver. With a yell Chunky launched a vicious kick at an open,
snarling mouth just before him, kicking a mouthful of teeth down the
beast's throat.
Tad snatched up the lost rifle and began to shoot into the pack until
the magazine of the weapon had been emptied. He then clubbed the
rifle and began whacking the heads of the wolves. Stacy recovered
his revolver and resumed shooting, narrowly missing putting a bullet
through his companion's body. As it was a bullet tore a rent in
Butler's shirt at the side.
"Look out there!" he warned, without even glancing towards Chunky,
keeping his eyes on the force ahead of him and beside him.
The dogs, taking fresh courage from the boys' defense of them, took
up their battle with renewed vigor. Blood was dripping from the
mouth of every one of them; some had rents torn in their sides,
others were limping about on two legs, here and there fastening their
fangs on a gray side or a gray leg as the case might be.
Stacy having emptied his revolver snatched up the limb of a tree, so
heavy that he could hardly swing it, but when the limb landed it did
great execution, leaving its imprint on the head that it hit. Every
time he landed on a gray head, the fat boy would yell.
"Save your wind; you will need it," shouted Tad.
"They'll need theirs more."
_Whack! Whack! Whack!_
It was a battle royal. But the boys were gaining, as Tad quickly saw.
The pack was beginning to be fearful. These doughty fighters were
working sad havoc among them. Scarcely a beast there that did not
bear marks of the conflict.
A long winding blast from a hunting horn sounded, but neither boy
heard it. Each was too busy with his own salvation to give heed to
anything outside of the work at hand. Again the horn sounded, this
time closer than before.
A few moments later there were shouts and yells from the bush. Bill
Lilly, followed by Ned Rector, Professor Zepplin and Walter Perkins
burst from the bush riding like mad, Lilly swinging his bush-knife,
whooping and yelling, the boys to the rear of him making fully as
much noise.
The party halted, gazing upon the scene before them with startled
eyes. They were for the moment too astonished to move or do a thing.
Neither Tad nor Stacy realized that help was at hand, and the party
had an opportunity, in those few seconds, to see what Tad Butler and
the much maligned fat boy could do when they got into action.
The period of inactivity was brief.
"They've tackled the dogs!" roared the guide. "At them, boys, and be
careful that you don't kill the hounds."
Red lights danced before the eyes of Professor Zepplin. Giving his
horse the spur, he galloped into the thick of the fight with his
heavy army pistol in hand. Its loud report furnished a new note in
the sound of conflict. And the Professor could shoot. Every time he
pulled the trigger a gray wolf's body got a bullet from his weapon.
Lilly was laying about him with his bush-knife, as Tad had done
before him. Ned Rector, too, plunged into the thick of the fight,
losing his hat in the first charge, while Walter Perkins hung about
the outside of the lines, letting drive at a beast that now and then
came his way. Bullets and beasts were flying about rather too
thickly to suit Walter. He felt safer on the outside, though he was
doing his part.
The battle waged fiercely for a few moments after the arrival of
Lilly and his party; then one by one the attacking band began
sneaking away into the cane, some to be stopped by bullets before
they reached the canebrake, others dropping from wounds already
received. There was a lively scattering, with those of the hounds
that were able to fight trying to follow their late assailants.
Lilly called them back, riding about and heading them off, shouting,
commanding, aided by Tad Butler who understood what the guide was
trying to do. The more seriously injured of the hounds were lying
about licking their wounds. Some already lay dead where they had made
their last stand.
"Too bad, too bad!" muttered Tad Butler, pausing from his strenuous
work, breathing heavily as he gazed about. Lilly, having rounded up
the dogs, was counting the loss. Four hounds were dead. Six others
were wounded, one or two so badly that he knew they would die. But
if the dogs had suffered, the attacking band had suffered much more
heavily. A count showed twenty-five dead wolves, the biggest killing,
save one, known in the canebrake. And of these twenty-five, Tad
Butler and Stacy Brown had killed more than half, as nearly as could
be estimated.
Stacy, his clothes torn and his shins bleeding, had thrust both hands
into his pockets, and was strolling unconcernedly about, with chin
well elevated, as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.
Lilly galloped up to Tad and leaning over extended his hand.
"Good boy!" he said.
"Thank you," answered Tad with a grin.
"Good boy, Master Stacy!"
"Oh, that's all right. It was a mere trifle, not worth speaking
about," replied the fat boy airily.
"If it weren't for the poor dogs, I'd laugh, young man. Master Tad,
tell me about it," said Lilly.
"The wolves set upon the dogs."
"Did you see them?"
"No, sir, we heard them and hurried over here to see what was going
on."
Lilly nodded to the others who had ridden up to listen.
"We tried to help them, but I guess some of the dogs were already
past help even then."
"And saved the greater part of the pack," added the guide.
"But, is it possible that wolves will attack dogs, Mr. Lilly?" asked
Tad.
"You have had the evidence of your own eyes. They do it frequently
down here. It is a wonder they didn't finish you into the bargain.
What puzzles me is why so many of them gathered on this trail."
"Does that mean anything special?" asked Rector.
"I don't know. It strikes me as queer."
Stacy stalked up pompously.
"Ah, Mr. Lilly, are there any other varieties of wild beasts down
here that we haven't met up with? If so I should like an opportunity
to meet them face to face. I don't want to miss anything, you know."
"It strikes me forcibly that you haven't missed much," answered the
guide, grinning.
"Hadn't we better look after the dogs? We can talk afterwards,"
suggested Butler.
"Yes, yes," agreed the guide.
They hurried to the suffering hounds. Some had to be shot, but the
most needed rest and their own treatment more than anything else, so
it was decided not to try to move them until along towards night. A
fire was built, and Lilly cut up one of the dead wolves, giving each
dog a liberal portion as his reward. He had some coffee which he
boiled. The coffee put new life into the two tired boys, who
stretched out on the ground for a rest while the others talked over
their courage and grit.
Tad lay with arms under his head, reflecting over the guide's
peculiar remark about the pack of wolves. He wondered, too, why so
large a pack had met and attacked the hounds. During the time of his
rest Lilly had gone out on the trail of the escaped horses, and found
them a short distance from the camp. While the guide was absent, Tad
got up and walked out of camp.
"Where are you going?" called the Professor.
"For a little walk," answered Butler.
The boy was absent for nearly an hour. He returned with face wearing
a puzzled expression, but he said nothing to his companions about the
reason for it. Lilly questioned Tad further about the attack of the
wolves.
"They must have been coming towards the hounds, judging from the
trail that I found beyond the camp," said Tad.
"They were probably following the bear tracks," suggested Lilly.
"Perhaps," answered Butler reflectively.
"Have you boys fixed up your wounds?" asked the guide.
"Yes, the Professor dressed them. We were merely scratched a little.
It doesn't amount to anything. But goodness! I never thought wolves
could be so ugly nor so plucky," wondered Tad.
"They would not be in smaller numbers. You know the old saying, 'in
unity there is strength,'" smiled Lilly.
"I know it now," answered Tad. "I have had an object lesson. And so
have you all. You know, too, that Stacy Brown is not a tenderfoot.
I'd like to see anyone show more grit than did he while we were
fighting the wolves. It was an experience that would have frightened
most anyone."
"Neither of you acted as if you were very badly scared," chuckled
Lilly.
"We didn't have time to be," laughed Tad.
"Fully as exciting as fighting wild boar in the Black Forest of
Germany," agreed the Professor.
"The wild pigs of the canebrake are as near as I have ever come to
hunting boars," said Lilly.
"Are they ugly?" asked Walter.
"Well, I reckon they are kind of fresh now and again," answered the
guide.
"The pigs are too small fry for me," declared Stacy pompously. "I
want big game or no game at all."
"Chunky is afraid only of the barred owls," chuckled Tad.
"Owls and 'gators," Stacy corrected. "How about those bears? They
seem to have given you fellows the slip?"
"Foxy bears," agreed the guide. "But never you mind. We will get
them yet. That old she-hear we have been after must be a big one,
and she is an ugly one, too. There will be a lively time when the
hounds bay her out. I hope we are all in at the death."
"So do I," nodded Stacy. "I shouldn't mind a hand-to-hand conflict
with an ugly old she-bear. I'd show her what sort of a bear-killer I
am, I would."
"I reckon it's time we were going," announced Lilly. "We have a long
hike."
The boys were willing, so the party packed up, and, after herding the
dogs, started on their return journey to camp, whence they were to
start on the second morning after that for the most exciting bear
hunt in their experience.
They reached their permanent camp shortly after dark. Ichabod had a
warm supper ready for them, and after having eaten, all gathered
about the campfire to discuss the incidents of the eventful day.