The wolves had drawn off out of gunshot now. Some of them were devouring their comrades that had fallen. When darkness crept over the little camp the wolves had completely surrounded it.
“We’ve got to save our cartridges,” Dick said at last. “Toma, how many have you left?”
“Just gun full up,” replied Toma, which meant he had the magazine of his repeater full—eight shots.
Dick was fingering Corporal Richardson’s revolver. He was unaccustomed to handling a revolver and comprehended he could do little real damage with the small arm, having always used a rifle. Sandy was no better than he, and when Dick asked Toma if he could shoot with a revolver with accuracy, the guide shook his head.
“They’re slinking around us in a circle now,” Sandy reported fearfully, as the shadows deepened.
As he had said, now and again a dark, sinister form glided across the snow from shrub to shrub, skirting the firelight. Here and there, one of the pack sat on his haunches, his beady eyes fixed on the camp, while his mouth slavered. Frequently one of the number raised his nose to the sky and sounded the hunger howl.
The wolves feared the campfire, and Toma explained that as long as they could keep the fire going they need not fear any very dangerous attack. And even if the wolves did rush them they could be repelled by fire brands.
“I’m going to see what they do when I throw fire,” Dick said presently. He picked out the nearest shadowy form, and drawing a flaming stick from the fire, threw it at the wolf. His aim was good and the animal snarled horribly as the fire fell within a few feet of its feet.
It was close to midnight when Toma confided to Dick and Sandy what they both feared. The wolves were gaining in number as wanderers joined the pack surrounding them. The places of those they had killed earlier in the day, and the few they had managed to pick off after dark were being filled by other ravenous beasts.
There would be no sleep in the camp that night.
Toma had cut a huge stack of wood, and it was well he did, for the moment the fire died down the wolves drew closer. In fact they seemed to taunt the boys into using the last of their ammunition in firing at the difficult targets they made.
The one dog was whimpering with fear and cowering under the legs of his masters in abject fear. Sometimes, however, a low whine sounded among the wolves, at which the husky pricked up his ears and did not seem so frightened. Toma tied the dog to the sled with a thong of moose-hide.