EVERYBODY BUSY.
"My turn next!" shouted Jack, as a further rushing sound announced the
arrival of a second detachment of the escaped wolfish horde.
Ned had his shooting eye at its best when he sent the first leaden
pellet toward that leading sprinter. The beast had come with a furious
rush, and chanced to pass through a succession of shadowy patches, so
that the scout master could not pull the trigger as quickly as he might
have wished. The wolf had actually made one wild leap upward after
Jimmy's retreating and plump form before the crash of the gun came.
It happened that Jimmy was looking back over his shoulder at the time,
though he knew that must be a foolish thing to do, and cost many a
fleeing hunter dear. He would not soon forget the picture that met his
eyes, as that gaunt gray pirate of the herd came rising toward him with
that splendid bound.
"Why," Jimmy was heard to say afterwards, when the shock of battle was
a thing only of memory, "both his lamps looked like yellow fires, and
that red tongue hung from his mouth, while I could see his long white
fangs bared to beat the band. Then I heard the bang of Ned's gun, and
that wolf fell back in a heap. When I saw the way he lay crunched up at
the foot of my tree, I knew he'd gone and croaked. Gee whiz! but that
was a pretty close shave for Jimmy McGraw, let me tell you!"
Jack got his turn and he found it no easy task to knock over a leaping
wolf, as glimpsed in the deceptive light. The moon's rays dazzled his
eyes, and when he saw the newcomer flashing through the bars of light
and shade Jack pulled the trigger with no assurance that he had held
positively on his target.
It was true that the beast took a header, which proved that he must
have been hit by the bullet; but, even as Jack's nervous hands started
to pump another cartridge from the magazine into the firing chamber of
his rifle, he saw his intended victim scramble to its feet, utter one
long howl, and then start to slink away.
"No you don't there; just hold on a bit!" cried Jack.
In his excitement, he fumbled more than he should with the mechanism of
his gun, and thus lost a couple of precious seconds. Indeed, the
wounded wolf might have vanished from view amidst the brush, only that
Harry took it upon himself to "put his oar in," with the result that
the bombarded beast crumpled up.
By that time even Jimmy was ready for business, having managed to
snatch up his Marlin, and then look eagerly around for some target at
which to fire.
"Don't forget the directions!"
That was Ned calling out. He knew the value of economizing ammunition
when far from a base of supply; and, consequently, did not want the
others to needlessly do anything of this sort. One bit of lead ought to
be enough for each beast, if properly delivered.
This warning was really meant more for Jimmy than either of the others;
for he had been known to get tremendously excited on other occasions,
when peril threatened, and mix things up considerably.
As everybody had had a shot but Jimmy, it was now his turn, according
to the order of events which had been arranged. Jack recognized this
fact by advising him to "be prepared" as a true scout always should.
"Here they come with a whoop!" Amos was heard to exclaim, as there came
a louder rush through the brushwood than at any previous time, proving
that quite a bunch of the hungry animals must be at hand.
"Steady, Jimmy, and be quick to pick your game!" called Ned, thinking
to thus keep the other from getting "rattled."
From the furious way in which the balance of the pack was coming on, it
seemed evident that they did not realize what sort of a surprise
awaited them near the river bank. Hunger and a keen scent was doing the
business for them. They appeared to know that there was something worth
while in the eating line around that particular part of the country,
and evidently meant to make a bold bid for the same, regardless of
consequences.
Jimmy was straining his eyes to discover the first sign of the oncoming
pack. He had his faithful repeater up against his shoulder and was
aiming at the spot he believed would speedily be occupied by a leaping
wolf.
Jimmy was no sharpshooter, though he had done some fairly creditable
work along the line of knocking over game in times past. As a rule, he
preferred shooting at random into a bunch of quail and taking chances
of making a fine bag. So now he indulged in the hope that several of
the wolves would break cover in a heap, when he could just blaze away
and, perhaps, knock over a couple with one shot; which he fancied would
put a feather in his hat as a marksman who knew how to conserve his
ammunition.
Then the time came to fire. He could see a confused mass tearing along
through the spaces where those bars of light and shadow rather dazzled
the eye; and, not daring to wait any longer, Jimmy let fly.
"Hurroo! did you see that beggar roll over? And listen to the other
howl, like he had the toothache, and no dentist within twenty miles!
Tell me about that, will you? Soak it to 'em, fellers, good and plenty!"
Of course, all this was pretty much lost, because, what with the racket
created by howling, yelping and yapping wolves, and the banging of the
guns in the hands of the scouts, a din had started that made it
impossible to hear any single human voice.
Jimmy realized that if he wanted to have a further share in the
disposal of the savage pack, he had better be getting busy again. So he
up with his rifle, and looked eagerly for some target at which he could
fire.
There never could be a more exciting affair than that battle with the
escaped wolves that Harkness, the herder, had been feeding and keeping
for breeding purposes. They were far from tamed by their recent
confinement; indeed, Ned could not remember ever having run across a
more savage pack in all his experience.
Afterwards, in commenting on this strange fact, he came to the
conclusion that it was caused by a combination of two things: the
animals had not been fed recently, and were almost crazy for food; and
then, he learned that Harkness had ever been a cruel despot, using a
black-snake whip with a long cutting lash to quiet his pack in their
enclosure, whenever their howling annoyed him--always keeping well out
of the reach of their fangs when plying the whip, it may be understood;
for he had a species of "pulpit" built out far above the pen, in which
he was free to swing that instrument of keen torture.
It was just slaughter, for the wretched wolves really had no chance at
all to retaliate. Ned sickened of the business quickly, but what could
they do otherwise? It was a condition that had been forced upon them.
They had not invited the attack, and must defend themselves against the
pack, no matter at what cost.
Before long there were dead and dying wolves lying all around, as
"thick as blackberries in the good old summertime," as Jimmy put it.
Others that had received wounds, and no longer felt the same furious
desire to try conclusions with the enemies perched beyond their reach
in the trees, began to slink away. Doubtless, they remembered old lairs
in the distant hills to which they might fly; and, in some fashion,
supply themselves with the necessary food, without taking such
desperate chances.
"All gone, it looks like, Ned!" sang out Jack, "and just when I've gone
and got the magazine of my gun charged again, too."
"Set 'em up in the other alley!" cried Jimmy. "I accounted for some of
the victims, you can roll your hoop on that!"
"My stars! but that _was_ a warm session!" exclaimed Harry; "and I
wonder now if you got any sort of picture, Jack, when you used your
flashlight on the scrimmage?"
That was just what Jack had done, laid his rifle aside for a minute,
and made a good use of his camera, prepared for the occasion. The
sudden flare of the cartridge had illuminated the scene as might a
flash of lightning; and, possibly, this had been one of the causes that
frightened the balance of the pack away, for the attack weakened from
that moment.
"Dast we get down now?" asked Jimmy.
While he was speaking, Amos Adams dropped from his perch, as though he
could see no further reason for playing the part of a bird and perching
there among the branches.
During the racket Ned had several times heard the lighter report of a
six-shooter, and understood that the kid cow-puncher was trying to do
his share of the work in diminishing the number of Harkness' pets.
Whether success followed his efforts or not, Ned was unable to say,
though he imagined the boy knew how to shoot the gun he "toted" in the
holster at his belt.
As there was no reappearance of the wolves, the rest of the campers
came down. The burros and the calico pony had acted as though frantic
during the melee; but, as the boys had made sure to secure them
properly, they were all there and by degrees quieting down, when they
found that they were not going to be made a meal of by those savage
beasts of prey.
The scouts counted just thirteen dead wolves scattered about. Two
others were trying to crawl away, dragging their broken limbs after
them.
"We must knock those fellows on the head," said Ned; "because they'll
die anyway, and it's the duty of a scout to put an end to needless
pain."
Although he had already had more than enough of the slaughter, Ned
followed after the two escaping animals. They showed their venomous
natures by turning on him and snarling furiously; but Ned stopped far
enough away not to endanger himself from those glistening fangs exposed
when the red lips were drawn back.
Two quick shots did the business, and then there were fifteen.
"Huh! Harkness' game is about up this time, and he won't raise any more
young wolves to sell the skins for lap-robes and turn over the scalps
to the State for bounty money," Jack observed, as they all gathered
again near the fire, which was started up afresh; for they could not
think of such a thing as sleep for some little time, after so much
excitement.
"If there's even two dollars apiece, it would net a feller thirty
plunks right now, to raise the hair of this bunch," speculated Jimmy.
"But we don't want to go into the wolf scalping business, do we, Ned?"
expostulated Harry, who viewed the idea with considerable disgust.
"Certainly not," replied the scout master. "Let Harkness come and get
his property if he wants, for all of us. We've saved him all the
trouble of cleaning up his pack. He ought to thank us for it; but, if
what Amos here says about him is true, I don't believe he will."
"Well," said Jack, frowning, "he'd better not get too gay and try to
blame us for cleaning out the pack, because we won't stand any abuse.
It was a case of give and take. They meant to pull us down and make a
fine meal; and they got what was coming to them. Harkness had better go
slow how he complains."
"I was wondering," mused Ned, as he settled down comfortably again,
just as though nothing worth mentioning had happened to disturb him,
"whether anything had come to Harkness?"
"How could there?" demanded Jimmy.
"Oh! of course, I don't know, but then it might be the wolves had
caught him off his guard and torn him to pieces before they skipped
out. If we have time, perhaps we ought to go around that way and see if
there's anything wrong."
The others did not seem to look at it in the same light that Ned was
doing.
"A waste of time, Ned," Jack declared, vehemently.
"That's what I say," added Harry.
"Can't see what it matters to us whether the old rascal has been
hoisted by his own infernal machine or not!" grumbled Jimmy.
"But don't forget that we're scouts," Ned continued impressively, "and
that we ought to follow the scout law which teaches us to do good, even
to our enemies, if the chance opens up."
"After we've licked the same good and plenty, I admit," Jimmy spoke up,
with one of his famous grins decorating his freckled face and a twinkle
in his eye. "P'raps you're right, Ned; and, as we've upset the old
man's business, we could call that a lickin' and let her go at that. If
you're of the same mind in the mornin', tell me. But say, I b'lieve I
could snatch a few winks right now, since things have calmed down."
Save for the distant mournful howling of several of the hungry wolves
nothing was to be heard all around them. So after arranging for keeping
"watch and watch," the scouts turned in. Amos snuggled down alongside
them; while Jack, upon whom had fallen the choice for the first spell
at playing sentry, settled his back up against a tree, laid his ready
gun across his knees, and prepared to do his duty.
The fire burned brightly for a long time and Jack sat there thinking of
many things connected with both the past and the immediate future.
Doubtless, he felt that it began to look as though they were not yet
through with hazards and adventures on this trip, when, on what was
practically their first night out on the open plain, they had been so
savagely beset by Harkness' escaped wolf pack.
By degrees even the distant howling of the few survivors died away, as
they no doubt started for the distant mountains, afraid to come back to
the scene of the recent carnage, even though the scent of blood must
have tempted them dreadfully.
Jimmy had gone to sleep immediately he lay down, for he never knew the
time when he could not forget his troubles in sweet slumber. Once or
twice he managed to get on his back and aroused Ned by his heavy
breathing. On these occasions the scout master was in the habit of
giving the offender a sharp punch in the ribs and it seemed as though
Jimmy understood what was wanted, even in his sleep, for he would
inevitably turn over on his side.
Ned had just been through the third experience of this kind and was
wondering whether he had not better suggest that they always tie Jimmy
in a certain position as he lay down to sleep, when he heard a voice
close by.
As Ned instantly sat up he recognized the tones as belonging to Pard
Jack, who was evidently laying down the law to some party:
"Hold up your hands, you there in the bushes, and step right up to the
fire, or I'll shoot; and, let me tell you, this gun goes straight!
Lively now, Mister, and no foolishness! Oh! Ned! come here, will you?
We've got a visitor!"