"I hope there'll be a chance for a shot!" Bobby exclaimed excitedly, as
they shouldered their rifles and slung cartridge pouches over their
shoulders.
"So do I!" agreed Jimmy.
"Just a bare chance," said Skipper Ed, as they passed out into the porch
shed and took their snowshoes from the pegs. "It depends upon which way
they're traveling."
"Do you think there's more than one?" asked Bobby in an excited
undertone, as they swung away on snowshoes.
"Yes, but we'd better not talk now. They're keen, and shy old devils,
and they might hear us," warned Skipper Ed.
Cautiously but swiftly they stole out and into the moonlit forest and up
into the gulch and along the southern banks of a frozen brook. Now and
again Skipper Ed halted, stooping to peer about and along the open space
that marked the bed of the stream. Presently he held up his hand as a
sign of caution, and crouched behind a clump of brush, motioning the
boys to follow his example.
"They're just above us," he whispered. "I saw them moving among the
trees, above the bend. They're coming down this way, and they'll come
out in that open just ahead of us. Don't shoot till I tell you, but be
ready for them, lads."
"How many are there?" Bobby whispered excitedly.
"I can't tell yet. But I saw them move, and there's more than one,"
answered Skipper Ed.
A moment later the blood-curdling howl of a wolf broke the forest
stillness. It was answered by the distant howl of the dogs, and then
near at hand the night was startled by the defiant howl of many wolves,
long, loud and terrible in unexpected suddenness, and so close that the
boys involuntarily rose from their crouch.
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