Part 7 (1/2)

One glance was sufficient for the youth to recognize it as an immense wolf, which had probably been drawn to the spot by the odor of the meat that composed the dinner of the party. Fifty feet off the wolf stopped, turned partly about, and looked back at his pursuer, as if to learn whether he intended to follow him farther.

Fred did not, but the opportunity was too good to be lost. The aim was inviting, and, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he sighted as best he could and pulled the trigger. He could not have done better had the sun been s.h.i.+ning. The bullet pa.s.sed directly through the skull of the wolf, which uttered a sharp yelp, leaped several feet into the air, and, doubling up like a jack-knife, fell upon his side, where, after several convulsive struggles, he lay still.

Naturally enough, the boy was elated over his success, for the shot was certainly an excellent one.

”There!” he said. ”Jack frightened off the Indians, and I think I have given the wild animals a good lesson. At any rate, _you_ won't bother us any more.”

He supposed that the report of the gun would awaken Hazletine and bring him to the spot to learn the explanation, but nothing of that nature followed. If the report disturbed him, he merely opened and closed his eyes, and continued to slumber, after the manner of one who appreciates the value of rest.

In truth, it was always a matter of wonderment to the boys that their veteran guide adopted the course he followed that night. That actual danger impended was proven by the incidents already narrated, and yet he entrusted the safety of one of the boys, as well as his own life, to another, who, until then, had never been in a similar position. Why he did so would be hard to explain, but he never admitted that his course was a mistake. Sometimes, as is well known, a boy is taught to swim by flinging him into deep water, where he must choose between keeping afloat and drowning; and it may be the guide believed that, by tossing his young friends into the midst of danger at the very beginning of their experience as Western hunters, they would acquire the needed skill the more quickly.

CHAPTER V.

”NOW FOR THE RANCH.”

One of the singular features connected with the experience of our young friends during the first night they spent in Wyoming was that all the danger which threatened them came from one Indian and from one _lupus_.

After Jack Dudley had expelled the prowling buck, the intruder took good care to remain away. Neither he nor any of his companions troubled the campers further. The presumption, therefore, was that this solitary specimen was a ”dog Indian,” or vagrant, wandering over the country on his own account. Such fellows, as already explained, claim no kins.h.i.+p with any tribe, but are, like the tramps of civilized society, agents for themselves alone.

Had the season been winter, with the snow deep on the ground, the trouble from the wolves would have been more serious. Those gaunt creatures, when goaded by hunger, become exceedingly daring, and do not hesitate to attack even armed bodies of men; but it was autumn time, when the ravenous brutes, who seem always to be hungry, find the least difficulty in procuring food, and they remained true to their cowardly disposition and refrained from everything in the nature of true courage.

The curious fact, as we have remarked, was that, as in the case of the Indian, only a single wolf intruded upon the little company. The animals generally travel in droves, and when one is seen it is quite safe to count upon a dozen, or a score, or even more. It is possible that the victim of Fred Greenwood's Winchester was also a sort of tramp, prospecting for his own benefit. It is more likely, however, that he was what might be considered a scout or advance agent of others. His pack was probably waiting among the foot-hills for him to return with his report. If so, the report is now considerably overdue.

Fred was a model sentinel for the remaining hours that he continued on duty. He continued circling about the camp-fire, silent, stealthy, peering here and there, and listening for the first evidence of danger.

Nothing of the kind was seen or heard, and he finally came back to the smouldering fire and looked at the face of his watch.

Could it be possible? It lacked a few minutes of three o'clock.

According to agreement, he should have called Hazletine an hour before.

”I don't suppose he will object,” said Fred, aloud; ”I'm sure I shouldn't, if allowed to sleep an hour beyond my time----”

”I ain't doing any kicking, am I?”

Looking around, he saw the guide had flung aside his blanket and was sitting erect, with a quizzical expression on his face.

”What made you fire your gun 'bout two hours ago?” he asked.

”Did you hear me?”

”How'd I know if I hadn't heard it?” was the pertinent question.

”A wolf was sneaking among the trees. I followed him out to the edge of the timber and let him have it between the eyes.”

”Did you hurt him?”

”Since he flopped over and died, I have reason to believe he _was_ hurt.”

”Good! That's the style--always to shoot. Never waste your ammunition.