Panting, almost at the limit of his strength, with torn hands and rent
garments, the lad clambered upward among the rocks. They had seemed
large at a distance. Now they appeared to be veritable mountains of
boulders. But they were rough and afforded a fair foothold, except where
windblown snow had obscured their surfaces and made them slippery and
treacherous.
After five minutes of climbing, Sandy rested for a time and paused to
look down below him. The wolves were apparently taken aback by his
successful evasion of their fangs. The leaders were seated on their
gaunt haunches gazing hungrily up at him, while behind them the rest of
the pack moved uneasily about. The boy could see the steam of their hot
breaths as they panted, their red tongues lolling far out and their
sharp, tiger-like teeth exposed.
Their wicked little yellow eyes were fixed steadfastly upon the boy, who
looked down upon them from the shoulder of a great rock. He was safe for
the time being, and Sandy took advantage of the respite to rally his
faculties.
Although he was temporarily secure from the pack, his position was still
about as bad as it could be. He was practically marooned on the rocky
island in the snows until the pack should see fit to withdraw, or until
some other game drew their attention from him.
Without letting his eyes stray from the wolves for more than a second at
a time, Sandy took stock. He had his rifle, hunting knife and some
twenty cartridges, besides those in the magazine of his rifle, twelve in
number. Of his lunch there was left some baking powder bread, a small
quantity of cold deer meat and some salt and pepper.
It was little enough for the protracted siege that he might have to
stand on the rocky pile, but scanty though the provision was, he was
glad of the foresight that had made him save it for a snack on his way
home. Besides the articles mentioned, the boy had his matches and a
compass, and that was all.
But the next minute he realized that even his matches were gone. In his
frantic climb, the nickel, water-proof case in which the precious
lucifers were carried had dropped from his pocket. Looking down after
the discovery of his loss, he saw the glint of the little metal cylinder
lying on the snow at the foot of his haven of refuge.
To recover it was out of the question. The wolves grimly stood guard
over it as if fully understanding its value to the human creature on the
rocks. As Sandy looked at the wolves, the great snow rangers stared
straight back at him with an uncanny steadiness. He seemed to read their
message in their flaming yellow orbs.
“There is no hurry. We can wait. As well to-morrow as now.”
Sandy clambered yet higher. At his first move the leaders, as if by
concerted action, flung themselves tooth and nail at the rocky
escarpment confronting them.
The pack, snarling and yapping with chagrin, were hurled back from the
stony fortress like waves from a pier. Sandy observed this with
satisfaction. His place of refuge appeared to be impregnable. The
wolves’ only chance lay in starving him out. And with a bitter pang
Sandy realized that unless help arrived or he was able to frighten them
off, the creatures stood a good chance of accomplishing this.
It was odd that the emergency which might have unmanned much stronger
minds than Sandy’s should not have had the effect of reducing him to
despair. But this was not so. The Scotch lad possessed in him a strain
of indomitable blood. Like his ancestors, who sought refuge in the rocks
and caves of the highlands during the stormy periods of Scotland’s
history, the boy, terrible though his position was and fraught with
menace, yet kept up his sturdy courage.
In fact, the danger of his position appeared to lend him nerve which he
might have lacked under less trying conditions. It is often so. Human
nature has a habit of rising to emergencies. Dangers and difficulties
are often the anvils upon which men and boys are tried to see if they be
of the true metal.
The wolves, with supernatural patience, resumed their positions of
waiting, following their futile attack on the rocky wall that faced
them. But Sandy saw that although they appeared indifferent to him, they
yet had an eye to his every movement.
He tried the experiment of raising an arm or swinging a leg as if he
were about to move again. Instantly every sharp-nosed head was raised in
an attitude of deep attention. To those wolves there was but one
interesting object in the whole of that dreary expanse of snow, and that
was Sandy McTavish.
“I’ve got to do something,” thought Sandy desperately. “Before long it
will be getting dusk.”
He couldn’t help giving a shudder as he thought of this. The idea of
spending a night in the freezing cold with those silent, tireless
watchers below him shook his courage badly. He concluded to try the
effect of a few shots among the pack. Possibly, if he could kill the
leaders, the rest might become alarmed and leave him.
He raised his rifle and singled out the great, gray wolf that appeared
to be commander-in-chief of the creatures. This was a huge animal with
bristling hackles who was covered with wounds and scars received no
doubt in defending his title of leader of the pack.
Sandy took careful aim between the wolf’s blazing yellow eyes that shone
in the gathering dusk like signal lamps. He pulled the trigger and a
blaze and a sharp crack followed. Mingled with them was the death cry of
the big gray wolf.
He leaped fully four feet into the air and came down with a crash.
Before the breath was out of his gaunt body the pack was upon him,
tearing, rending and fighting. When the mass of struggling,
famine-stricken wolves surged apart again, Sandy saw that a few
bloodstains on the snow and some bones in the mouths of the stronger of
the wolves were all that remained of the leader of the pack.
A king among them when alive, the dead wolf had been to his followers
nothing more than so much meat. Their cannibal feast being disposed of,
except that here and there a wolf crunched a bone, the animals resumed
their vigil.
Twice, three times more, did Sandy fire; but each time with the same
result.
He dared not waste more ammunition. He must conserve what he had left
for emergencies, in case it came down to a fight for his very life.
For the first time since he had gained a place of comparative safety the
boy gave way utterly. He sank his head in his hands and despair rushed
over him like a wave.