And through it all, like the ancient warrior he was, Gordon Duncan remained in his place calmly nocking arrows and sending them crashing into the ribs of his enemies.
“There are more,” Johnny panted, helping the girl to her feet.
But what was this? Just when the tide seemed set against them there came a strange roaring sound from the distance. This resembled more than any other the call of a wild beast, a challenge to battle.
Pausing, the gray streaks appeared to listen. Then, one by one, they went trotting away into the night.
Hardly a moment had elapsed before there came a sharp yip of pain, another and yet another. A moment of silence, then the night was made hideous by the noise of battle.
“Wha—what can it be?” The girl’s words came in stifled whispers.
“Get your bows and arrows,” commanded Gordon Duncan. “They may be back upon us at any moment.”
“And—and that other monstrous thing!” Faye Duncan’s nerves were shattered.
“Five out there.” Gordon Duncan’s voice was calm. He was pointing in the direction his arrows had sped.
Johnny was feeling a little ashamed of his record when his eyes fell upon the wolf that had attacked Tico. He was dead, strangled.
“Not so bad,” he thought as he once more gripped his bow and sought out an arrow.
There was, as it turned out, no need for further worry. As they sat there shivering, gripping bows with hands benumbed with cold, they listened to the distant tumult rise, then fade away into the night.
“All over,” Johnny said at last, rising to ease his stiffened limbs.
“Who—what could it have been?” The girl gripped his hand hard as he assisted her to rise.
“That,” said Johnny, “as far as I can tell was the great banshee.”
“But look,” he said suddenly. “Over there not a quarter of a mile away is a small forest.”
What he had said was true. Had they marched but a quarter of a mile farther they might have slept warm by a roaring fire which would have served to keep the wolves away.
Needless to say, they were not long in packing up and moving to this place of greater safety and comfort.
A half hour later, seated before a fire that fairly blistered their cheeks, the boy and girl, conversing in awed whispers, discussed the strange happenings of the night. In the meantime, rolled in his blankets, and quite as if nothing had happened, Gordon Duncan slept the sleep of the just.