“I glanced back over my shoulder, hoping that we could gain a little ground before the wolves quit their wrangling over the supplies I had thrown out to them, but was disappointed.  They were after us again in full cry, and my heart sank.

“I turned in the saddle and sent shot after shot into the racing pack, and succeeded in checking them a little, but not much.  The horse was galloping at a good clip now, though, and I knew that if we could keep ahead for a short time longer we would reach the camp.

“The wolves overtook us without seeming effort, however, and were soon snapping about the horse’s heels.  My rifle was of little use now, and I drew my revolvers and blazed away at short range.  Every shot took effect, but the wolves were nothing daunted.  As I told you before, when the timber wolf gets his blood up he is absolutely fearless.  No sooner did one of the great gray brutes drop than another leaped into his place, his green eyes glowing balefully and his jaws snapping.

“When both my revolves were empty I clubbed my rifle, and lashed away at the long-pointed heads that were so close to me.  Once or twice one would catch the butt of the gun in his teeth, and the marks are in the wood to this day.

“Well, I was so busy fighting off the wolves that I had no time to notice how near we were to camp.  But suddenly my heart gave a great leap as I heard a yell in front of me and recognized the voice of my partner.

“I looked ahead and saw that I had almost reached our shack.  My partner was standing in the doorway, rifle in hand, and even as I looked came running out toward me.  In a few seconds the faithful horse had carried me almost to the shack, and I leaped to the ground.  My partner took up a stand alongside me, and as the wolves came on we cleared a space about us with the clubbed rifles.  We realized we couldn’t keep that up long, though, so we retreated to the cabin.  We backed in, but were unable to shut the door before one big gray brute squeezed inside.  He was nothing dismayed at being separated from his companions, but leaped straight for us.  I fetched him a stunning blow with the butt of my rifle, and before he could recover we both fell upon him and despatched him with our hunting knives.  That was about as close a shave as I ever had,” and as he finished his story Mr. Melton shook his head.

“I should think it must have been,” said Bert, drawing a long breath, “but what did the rest of the wolves do when they found themselves shut out?”

“Oh, my partner and I shot at them from the window until we had killed over a dozen, and the rest, finding that they could not get at us, took themselves off.”

“Did they kill the horses?” asked Tom.

“No,” replied Mr. Melton, “for some reason they didn’t chase them.  The next morning we found them both outside the shack none the worse for their adventure.  And a mighty lucky thing for us it was, because the loss of our horses then would have meant the failure of all our plans.”