The brutes were now so far to the rear that there was little to be feared from them, though they still kept up the pursuit, and while able to follow in a straight line were doing so with more speed than would be expected.

It struck Sterry that his friend was not skating with his utmost skill.  He was alarmed.

“What’s the matter, Fred?” he called, drawing quickly near him.

“O, Jennie!  Jennie!  What will become of her?”

Fred Whitney, it was now apparent, was alone.

Forgetful of the savage brutes, Monteith Sterry slackened his pace, and in a scared voice demanded: 

“What has become of her?  Where is she?”

“She darted into the mouth of that creek.”

“Why didn’t you follow?”

“I could not; it was done in a flash; she called to me to keep on and said something else which I could not catch.”

“But,” continued the wondering Monteith, “how could she do it when she was at your side?”

“She fell a little to the rear and made a lightning turn.  I attempted to follow, but it seemed half the pack were in my path, and it was certain death.  I was frantic for the moment, and even now do not understand what it all meant.”

“What a woeful mistake!” wailed Monteith; “the chances are a thousand to one that she is lost.”

“I think,” said the brother, half beside himself, “that it may have been a good thing, but—­”

A peculiar cry behind them caused Monteith to turn his head.  The wolves had gained so fast during the last few minutes that one of them was in the act of springing on Fred Whitney.

“Stoop, quick!” shouted his companion.

Fred bent low in the nick of time, and the gaunt, lank body shot over his head, landing on the ice in front.  Before he could gather himself a bullet from the revolver was driven into his vitals and he rolled over and over, snapping and yelping in his death-throes.

The skaters swerved aside enough to avoid him, and the next instant were skimming over the ice at their utmost speed.

It was not a moment too soon, for the halt was well-nigh fatal; but they could travel faster than the animals, and steadily drew away from them until, ere long, they were safe, so far as those creatures were concerned.  They continued the pursuit, however, being a number of rods to the rear and in plain sight of the fugitives, who looked back, while speeding forward with undiminished swiftness.

But the couple could not continue their flight, knowing nothing of the missing one.  The wolves were between them and her, and Monteith Sterry had fired the last shot in his revolver.

“How far back does that tributary reach?” he asked.

“I never learned, but probably a good way.”

“Its breadth is not half of this.”

“No; nothing like it.”

“What has become of her?”

“Alas! alas!  What shall I answer?”