“What’s that, Giant?”

“What’s what?”

“That noise below.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“I do, and I am going down to see what is doing.”

Whopper began to descend and the smaller youth followed him.

“Well, I never!”

“Wolves!”

“Yes, and look at the number!”

The words were true.  Under the tree a number of wolves had congregated.  There were at least twenty-five or thirty of them, and they were all of good size.

As soon as they saw the boys they retreated a few feet and then began to snarl savagely.

“Say, Whopper, I don’t like this,” observed Giant, with a grave shake of his head.

“I don’t like it myself.”

“They don’t look extra friendly.”

“Friendly?  I guess not.  They are mighty savage.”

“I wonder where they came from?”

“I am sure I don’t know.  Perhaps from over the mountains.  Don’t you remember Jed Sanborn telling us of the packs of wolves over near Pine Mountain?”

“Yes.”

The two boy hunters had not ventured to the lowest limb of the tree.  Now, as Whopper started to step down, one of the wolves, large and savage, leaped up at him with a vicious snarl.

“Not to-day!” cried Whopper, and drew himself up again.  “I don’t want you to sample my leg!”

“If we only had our guns!” sighed Giant.

“I wanted to get them, Giant.  But I don’t know if it will do any good—–­there are so many of them.  One or two less won’t count.”

The wolves now seemed to grow impatient and snapped and snarled loudly as they crowded around the tree and tried to leap up towards the boys.  They were evidently a hungry lot.

“I’ve got an idea!” said Giant, presently.  “I am going to cut a notched stick and reach down for the guns with that.”

“Just the thing!” answered his chum.  The stick was soon cut, and then both boys went “Fishing” with it.  Both the gun and the rifle were hanging up by straps, and it was an easy matter to catch the notch under the straps and hoist the weapons up to where the youths stood.

“Hurrah!  So far so good!” cried Giant.  “Now then, we’ll give the wolves something that will surprise them.”

“Yes; but don’t forget one thing, Giant.  The shots will surely scare the game away from around here, and that will mean good-by to the silver deer—–­at least for the present.”

“Well, we have got to do something.”

“I agree on that.”

“I’ll take that savage-looking fellow right below us.”

“And I’ll fire at the one over yonder.  Are you ready?”

There was a pause.

“Yes.”

“Then fire!”

And the shotgun and the rifle spoke up almost as one piece.

CHAPTER XXVI

SOMETHING ABOUT TRAPPING