The herd would not return of its own accord, and must be brought in to the corral.  As the boys neared the divide and came in sight of the cattle, they presented a state of alarm.  The presence of wolves was at once suspected, and dashing up at a free gallop, the lads arrived in time to save the life of a young steer.  The animal had grazed beyond the limits of the herd, unconscious of the presence of a lurking band of wolves, until attacked by the hungry pack.  Nothing but the energetic use of his horns saved his life, as he dared not run for fear of being dragged down, and could only stand and fight.

The first glimpse of the situation brought the boys to the steer’s rescue.  Shaking out their horses, with a shout and clatter of hoofs, they bore down on the struggle, when the wolves suddenly forsook their victim and slunk away.  The band numbered eight by easy count, as they halted within two hundred yards and lay down, lolling their tongues as if they expected to return and renew the attack.

“Did you ever hear of anything like this?” exclaimed Dell, as the brothers reined in their horses to a halt.  “Attacking in broad daylight!”

“They’re starving,” replied Joel.  “This sleet makes it impossible to get food elsewhere.  One of us must stay with the cattle hereafter.”

“Well, we saved a steer and got a wolf to-day,” boastfully said Dell.  “That’s not a bad beginning.”

“Yes, but it’s the end I dread.  If this weather lasts a month longer, some of these cattle will feed the wolves.”

There was prophecy in Joel’s remark.  The rescued animal was turned into the herd and the cattle started homeward.  At a distance, the wolves followed, peeping over the divide as the herd turned down the pathway leading to the corral.  Fuel had been sledded up, and after attending to the details of water and fire, the boys hurried home.

The weather was a constant topic.  It became the first concern of the morning and the last observation of the night.  The slightest change was noticeable and its portent dreaded.  Following the blizzard, every moderation of the temperature brought more snow or sleet.  Unless a general thaw came to the relief of the cattle, any change in the weather was undesirable.

A sleepless night followed.  It was later than usual when the boys replenished the fire and left the corral.  Dell’s imagination covered the limits of all possibilities.  He counted the victims of the poison for the night, estimated the number of wolves tributary to the Beaver, counted his bales of peltry, and awoke with a start.  Day was breaking, the horses were already fed, and he was impatient for saddles and away.

“How many do you say?” insisted Dell, as they left the stable.

“One,” answered Joel.

“Oh, we surely got seven out of those eight.”

“There were only six baits.  You had better scale down your estimate.  Leave a few for luck.”