Dave Porter in the Far North Part 46

"Hardly enough for fourteen wolves. Yes, we must be very careful. If they---- They are coming closer!"

"Let us fire off one pistol at a time!" cried Dave. "Then we'll always have one ready for use."

Mr. Porter did not answer, for he was aiming at the nearest beast. With the discharge of the pistol the wolf leaped high in the air, turned and came down on its side, and began to kick the snow in its death agony.

"A good shot!" exclaimed Dave.

"You can try your luck," said Mr. Porter. "I will take out that empty sh.e.l.l and reload."

The other wolves had surrounded the one that was dying, and taking aim at the center of the pack Dave let drive. One wolf was. .h.i.t in the nose and the bullet glanced off and hit another in the jaw. Wild yelps of pain followed, and the two wolves turned and ran for cover with all possible speed.

"We have gotten rid of three of them," said Dave, with much satisfaction. "If we keep this up we'll soon get rid of the rest."

"It is snowing again," announced Mr. Porter.

He was right, and soon the downfall became so heavy that they could see next to nothing beyond the circle of light made by the camp-fire. But that the wolves were still near they knew by the yelps and snarls which occasionally reached their ears.

A quarter of an hour went by, and the snow came down as thickly as ever.

A light wind had sprung up, and this sent the flakes directly into the hollow under the cliff. Mr. Porter heaved a sigh.

"More bad luck," he observed. "By morning, if this keeps on, we'll be snowed in."

"Look," said Dave. "I believe the wolves are getting ready to rush us!"

Both strained their eyes and soon saw seven or eight of the beasts sneaking softly up through the snow. The light from the camp-fire shone in their eyes and on their white fangs. They were growing desperate, and hoped by sheer force of numbers to lay their human prey low.

"Fire three shots, Dave, and I will do the same," said Mr. Porter, in a low tone. "Aim as carefully as you can, my boy."

The various shots rang out in rapid succession. How much damage was done they could not tell, although they saw two wolves go down and lie still.

The others retreated, some limping, and the entire pack went back to the shelter of the brushwood.

They had now only a few cartridges left, and these they divided between them. Then Dave stirred up the fire a little and placed the burning sticks so they would last as long as possible. Father and son looked at each other and suddenly stepped closer and embraced.

"G.o.d grant, now we have found each other, that we get from this spot in safety," murmured Mr. Porter, fervently.

"Oh, we must get away!" added Dave, impulsively.

"All we can do is to fight to the last, Dave."

"Yes."

Both knew only too well what to expect should the wolves get the better of the contest. "As cruel as a wolf" is a true saying. They would be torn limb from limb and only their bones would be left to tell to some later traveler the story of their fate. They decided, with set faces and shut teeth, to fight to the very last.

Another quarter of an hour went by, and soon they heard the wolves coming back. Neither said a word, but both looked at each other.

"Take those on the left,--I will take those on the right," whispered Mr.

Porter. "But be careful--every shot means so much!"

"I'll shoot my very best," answered Dave.

After that not a word was spoken. Silently the beasts came closer and closer. Dave's heart began to beat rapidly. Then, when he could wait no longer, he aimed at the nearest animal on the left and pulled the trigger.

Two shots, one from the son and the other from the father, rang out almost simultaneously, and down went two wolves mortally wounded. Crack!

went Dave's weapon a second time, and now a wolf was. .h.i.t in the neck.

Then Mr. Porter fired, sending a bullet into a breast that was presented to view. With four of their number out of the fight, the other wolves turned and fled into the brushwood and then toward the forest of firs.

The battle had been of short duration, but the excitement had been intense, and Dave found himself bathed in a cold perspiration from head to foot. His father, too, was weak, and now sank on the rocks, breathing heavily.

Only one small branch of a tree remained for the fire, and this Dave set up, so that it might burn as a torch. When that was gone they would be in utter darkness--and then? The youth s.h.i.+vered as he asked himself the question. He knew that wild animals love the darkness and are braver in it than in the light.

"h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo!"

Loud and clear from above the cliff the cry rang out a dozen times or more. At first Dave thought he must be dreaming, then he roused up and so did his parent.

"What was that?" demanded Mr. Porter.

"Somebody calling, I think." Dave ran out of the hollow and looked upward through the falling snow. "Who calls?" he yelled, at the top of his lungs.

"It is I, Granbury Lapham, and I have my brother and the others with me. Is that you, Porter?"

"Yes."

"Have you found your father?"

"Yes."

"How is he?" came in another voice--the voice of Philip Lapham.

"He is hurt a little, but not much."

"I'll be all right if I can only get out of here," called Mr. Porter, coming out so that he could look up the cliff. "We've been having our own troubles with two bears and a pack of wolves."

"We thought there must be trouble--by the shots fired," said Granbury Lapham. "That's why we started out in the darkness." He waved a torch in the air. "Can you see us?"

"We can see a light," answered Dave. He took up the branch from the fire. "Can you see our light?"

"Yes."

A long talk followed, and the party above, numbering four, said they had brought along a good rope. This they lowered, and after not a little difficulty Mr. Porter and Dave were raised up to the ledge above.

"There come the wolves again!" cried the youth, as he reached the ledge.

"Have you a shotgun with you?"

"Yes," said Philip Lapham. "Please lend it to me."

The weapon was pa.s.sed over, and Dave blazed away twice in rapid succession. A wild snarling and yelping followed, and then the wolves disappeared; and that was the last seen of them.

"We are well out of that," murmured Mr. Porter. "And I am glad of it."