It was a dreary prospect for the tired and hungry boys, and Tom’s face
lengthened as he realized the hardship and privation in store for them.
They had eaten the last morsel of food they had brought with them the
day before, and the danger of actual starvation stared them in the face.
“We may have wandered miles from the camp, and Mr. Hunter may be
looking for us in an entirely different direction,” said Will,
seriously.
“Can’t we reach some town or settlement?” inquired Tom, hopefully.
“There may not be a house within a hundred miles, and there may be one
within ten. All we can do is to struggle on, and as it’s getting night
and looks like snow, we had better hurry away from this level prairie.”
In the far distance trees were visible, and the boys, keeping them in
view, trudged wearily onwards.
Snow began to fall late in the afternoon, and this caused Will to urge
the lagging Tom to hasten his pace, and endeavor to reach the timber
ere night and storm overtook them.
They reached a scattering woods finally. Seeking a place to camp for
the night, Tom startled his companion with a welcome discovery.
It was the track of horses’ feet and wagon wheels along the edge of the
timber, and they were quite fresh.
“Some vehicle has passed here lately, sure,” said Will, quite excitedly.
“Let us follow up the tracks,--they may lead to some town,” suggested
Tom.
This course seemed a wise one, and was immediately followed, but when
the road diverged to the opening all traces were hidden by the fast
falling snow.
Darkness coming down showed a dreary waste of snow lying before them
far as the eye could reach.
“We had better find a camp for the night,” said Will.
They devoted some time to searching for a convenient spot. The snow had
become heavy and blinding, and penetrated even the timber.
“We’ll find a clump of screening bushes somewhere,” said Will, and they
kept on through the woods.
At a little opening they paused, wet, chilled and discouraged.
Suddenly Will started.
“Hark!” he said, impressively.
Tom bent his ear to catch an ominous noise echoing strangely through
the silent woods.
A distant baying sound was borne upon the breeze, becoming augmented in
volume and nearness as they listened.
“What is it, Will?” inquired Tom, in awe-stricken tones.
“Wolves.”
Tom’s face grew pale and his hands began trembling violently.
“Oh, Will, what shall we do if they come here?”
“They probably will come here, but we won’t let them catch us just yet.”
“What shall we do?”
“Build a fire and climb the highest tree we can find.”
Will began at once to gather leaves and wood, but paused with a cry of
delight.
“Come this way quick, Tom. Do you see yonder?”
“In the opening?”
“Yes. It’s a house. Run, Tom, for the wolves are coming nearer.”
The baying sound seemed directly in the timber as they dashed across
the snowy waste.
In the centre of the opening stood a structure of some kind. As they
neared it the rude outlines of a log cabin were revealed.
The single door was open. Through the roofless top the snow came down
heavily.
But it was a welcome house of refuge amid peril. Will pushed the door
shut and propped a heavy log lying inside against it.
As he did so he saw, breaking from the cover of the forest, a dozen or
more wolves.
“Just in time,” he murmured, relievedly, as he glanced around at the
stout timbers enclosing the cabin.