Part 13 (1/2)

The Indians were expert in making camp, and soon the dogs were tethered off to one side, and were snarling and snapping over their supper of frozen seal blubber. After that they burrowed down under the snow to keep warm.

”I guess we're in for a cold spell,” remarked Mr. Baxter as he looked at the thermometer he had hung outside the tent. ”It's forty-one below now, but the wind doesn't blow, and that makes it better. With a stiff gale now we'd be in a bad way.”

”Is it liable to get any colder?” asked Fred.

”It's liable to, but I hope it doesn't. This is all I want.”

There was nothing to do but to go to bed, which they were glad enough to do, as they would be warm in the sleeping bags. Seeing that the tent was securely fastened, and that their rifles were ready at hand, Mr. Baxter turned in. The boys were already asleep, for cold has the effect of making one drowsy.

It was long after midnight when Fred was awakened by a series of loud howls outside the tent. At the same time Mr. Baxter and Jerry sat up.

”What's that?” asked Fred.

”The dogs must have gotten loose and want something to eat,” said Jerry.

”Those are not dogs,” replied Mr. Baxter. ”I know those howls only too well.”

”What are they?” asked Fred.

”A pack of wolves. Boys, get your rifles ready. Unless I'm mistaken we're going to have trouble. The animals are probably wild with hunger, and have gotten scent of our camp.”

CHAPTER XI

SHOOTING A MOOSE

It was the work of but an instant for the travelers to slip on their big fur coats, and they were ready to go outside, for going to bed in the arctic regions is more a process of dressing than undressing, and they had lain down with even more clothes on than they wore during the day.

Mr. Baxter, kicking his sleeping bag to one side, loosed the fastenings of the tent and stepped out. He was followed by Fred and Jerry, Johnson coming last.

Fred was not prepared for the wonderful sight that met his gaze. At first he thought he had been transported back to his own home, and that a Fourth of July celebration was in progress. The sky was streaked with long streamers of colored fire that waved and undulated to and fro, beginning at the horizon and extending to the zenith.

”The Northern Lights!” exclaimed Mr. Baxter.

Then Fred understood that he had looked for the first time on the wondrous and beautiful Aurora Borealis.

Suddenly the peacefulness of the night was once more broken by the fierce howls, and this time they were answered by the sled dogs, who, raising their sharp muzzles in the air, sent their answering challenge to the wolves.

”There they are!” cried Fred, pointing to a dark ma.s.s on the white, snowy expanse. ”They're headed this way.”

”Are your rifles ready?” asked Mr. Baxter. ”We'll probably have to fight them off.”

”Will they attack us?” asked Jerry.

”Wolves have to be in large numbers or desperate with hunger before they will tackle a man,” said his father. ”Especially where there is such a large number as there are of us. But they may fight with our dogs and injure them, and that would be the worst thing that could happen to us, as we have to depend entirely on the dogs for traveling here.”

”They are coming closer,” remarked Fred.

”Yes. It's curious the Indians don't awaken. I think I'll call them.”