Forgetful of his own danger, Monteith shouted again: 

“Look out!  Why don’t you change your course?”

Neither replied, but it was absurd for the panic-stricken youth to suppose they did not understand the situation and were shaping their movements accordingly.

Having observed the wolves as soon as Sterry, they never lost sight of them for a second.  Every action was watched, and the curious proceeding noted the instant made.

Fred and Jennie continued gliding straight forward, as if they saw them not, and a collision appeared inevitable.  At the moment when Monteith’s heart stood still, the couple turned almost at right angles to the left—­that is, in exactly the opposite direction from the course of the wolves—­and in a second they were fifty feet nearer that shore than the brutes.  Then followed another quick turn, and they were gliding with arrowy speed straight down stream.  They had simply passed around the animals, who, detecting the trick, made their limbs rigid and slid over the ice, with their claws scratching it, until able to check their speed to allow them to turn and resume the pursuit.

Sterry was on the point of uttering a shout of exultation and admiration at the clever manoeuvre, when Jennie cried out; and well might she do so, for fifty yards beyond, and directly in their path, the ice seemed suddenly to have become alive with the frightful creatures, who streamed from the woods on both sides, ravenous, fierce and unrestrainable in their eagerness to share in the expected feast.

CHAPTER III.

The flight over the ice.

The same minute that Monteith Sterry saw the new peril which threatened them all he darted out beside the brother and sister, who had slackened their pace at sight of the wolves in front.

“What shall we do?” asked Fred; “we cannot push on; let’s go up stream.”

“You cannot do that,” replied Jennie, “for they are gathering behind us.”

A glance in that direction showed that she spoke the truth.  It looked as if a few minutes would bring as many there as in advance.

“We shall have to take to the woods,” said Fred, “and there’s little hope there.”

“It won’t do,” added the sister, who seemed to be thinking faster than either of her companions.  “The instant we start for the shore they will be at our heels.  Make as if we were going to run in close to the right bank, so as to draw them after us; then turn and dash through them.”

The manoeuvre was a repetition of the one she and her brother had executed a few minutes before, and was their only hope.

“I will take the lead with my pistol,” said Monteith, “while you keep as close to me as you can.”

Every second was beyond value.  The wolves were not the creatures to remain idle while a conference was under way.  At sight of the three figures near the middle of the course they rent the air with howls, and came trotting toward them with that light, springy movement shown by a gaunt hound, to whom the gait is as easy as a walk.