“I’ll take you to where there are deer, after this hunt is over,” replied John Barrow.  “I know a famous spot, and it’s not far, either.”

“Hark!” suddenly cried Tom.  “What sort of a yelping is that?”

All listened.

“Wolves!” answered John Barrow.  “There must be quite a pack of ’em, too.”

“I suppose they get pretty hungry when there is such a deep snow,” said Tom.

“They do.  More’n likely some of ’em have scented our b’ar meat and they want some.”

“If they are heading for camp, they’ll give Jasper Grinder trouble,” put in Sam.

He had scarcely spoken when they heard the report of a gun, followed by a louder yelping than ever.

“They’ve attacked him, true enough!” cried John Barrow.

“Come on,” said Dick.  “The sooner we get back the better.  Grinder may be having a pile of trouble, and the wolves may tear all our things to pieces if they get the chance.”

CHAPTER XXIX.

Jasper Grinder and the wolves.

Left to himself, Jasper Grinder piled the wood on the camp-fire and then sat down to meditate on the turn affairs had taken.

He was in a thoroughly sour frame of mind.  To his way of thinking everything had gone wrong, and he wondered how matters would terminate.

“I was a fool to come out here, in the first place,” he told himself.  “I ought to have known that Baxter had no sure thing of it.  If I hadn’t fallen in with the Rovers, I would have frozen and starved to death.  And they don’t want me; that’s plainly to be seen.”

Had he felt able to do so, he would have packed a knapsack with provisions and started oh his way down the river toward Timber Run.  But he did not know how far the settlement was away, and he was afraid to trust himself alone in such a wilderness as confronted him on every hand.  He did not possess much money, but he would have given every dollar to be safe back in the city again.

He wondered if the Rovers would gain possession of the treasure before the Baxter party came up, and also wondered what would happen should the two parties come together.  He had not been treated very well by Dan Baxter, and so he hardly cared who came out on top in the struggle for the treasure.

“Whoever gets it will try to count me out,” was the way he reasoned.  “I’m at the bottom of the heap, and likely to stay there for some time to come.”

The time dragged slowly, and to occupy himself he began to cut more wood for the fire.  The task made him grit his teeth.

“Got to work like a common woodchopper,” he muttered.  “It’s a shame!”

He was just dragging the last of the wood up to the fire when a sudden yelping broke upon his ears.  Looking up, he saw a lone wolf standing at the edge of the timber, gazing fixedly at him.

“A wolf!” he muttered, and his face grew pale.  “Scat!” And he waved his hand threateningly.