<h2 id="c5"><span class="small">CHAPTER V</span> <br/>DANGEROUS BUSINESS</h2>
<p>The Indian who had promised to provide the
boys with caribou meat had not deceived them.
At the appointed hour he had returned with an
abundant supply.</p>
<p>In his eagerness to secure provisions for a
long lap of the journey, Joe had piled his sled
high with meat. In doing this he had made a
mistake, but this he did not know at the time.</p>
<p>Having paid the Indian, he lashed his rifle to
the top of the load, and, shouting to his dogs,
went racing away after his companions.</p>
<p>The short day was nearing its close when, on
passing a turn in the trail, Joe found himself
swinging out of the forest into an open stretch
of wild meadow.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</div>
<p>He had hardly made a hundred rods of this
open trail when he heard a sharp howl which
came from the edge of the forest.</p>
<p>“Wolves!” he muttered. “Caught the scent
of this meat. Indians say it has been a bad
winter for wolves. Starving, I guess. Well,
we’ll show those boys our heels.”</p>
<p>Reaching out to the sled as he traveled forward,
he unlashed his rifle and threw it across
his arm. As he did so, he caught his breath.
There were, he suddenly remembered, but four
cartridges in the rifle and none on the sled.
Their supply of ammunition was on Curlie’s
sled.</p>
<p>Shouting at the dogs, he gripped the handle of
the sled with one hand and with the rifle poised
in the other, went pit-patting along over the
trail.</p>
<p>He had reached the center of the open space
and was hoping to arrive at the forest soon and
find the others encamped there, when tragedy
suddenly descended upon him.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</div>
<p>A dull crash was followed by a sickening
thud. The sled, having been twisted sideways
in crossing a dry ravine, had crumpled down.
Springing forward, the boy found that all the
lashings and braces of one runner were torn
away.</p>
<p>“Smashed beyond repair,” he muttered.
“Now how am I going to get that meat to
camp?”</p>
<p>He thought of unhitching the dogs and of
clinging to the main draw rope as he raced
away to his friends for aid. This thought was
speedily banished when a dismal, long-drawn
howl came from the edge of the forest.</p>
<p>“Wolves,” he muttered. “They’d eat it all.”</p>
<p>He thought of making the canvas covering
of his pack into an improvised sled and placing
the meat upon it, of hitching the dogs to that.</p>
<p>“Don’t believe they could haul it,” he decided.
“The trail’s too narrow. Snow on sides
is too deep.”</p>
<p>Again there came the dismal howl. This time
it was followed by a yap-yap-yap. To the boy’s
consternation, this yapping was answered from
a dozen points at once.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</div>
<p>“Lot of them out there. Gaunt, hungry
beasts. Dangerous, I guess.”</p>
<p>Again he thought of the four cartridges.
They were not enough. He might be obliged to
cut his team loose and make a dash for it.</p>
<p>The dogs heard the challenging call from the
wild creatures of the forest and bunched together
as if for defense. Their manes stood
straight up. The leader, a part-hound, was
growling in a low tone, as if talking to himself.</p>
<p>This team of five dogs which Joe drove was
a pick-up team. Besides the part-hound leader,
there was one huskie and three dogs of uncertain
breed. The huskie’s team mate, Sport,
was slight of build and inclined to shirk. The
two “wheel-horses” were short, stocky fellows
who worked well in traces and showed signs of
being good fighters.</p>
<p>Like some scout preparing for an Indian attack,
Joe now loosened the dogs’ traces from the
sled. But that they might not rush out heedless
of danger to be cut up by the merciless fangs
of the wolves he chained each dog to the sled.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</div>
<p>“Time enough to let you at them later,” he
murmured. He felt a certain amount of security
in their companionship.</p>
<p>Just what he meant to do, he did not for
the moment know. Darkness had fallen. Like
twin glowworms, the eyes of the wolves shone
at the edge of the forest. Already some of
them were creeping out into the open. There
were a number of them; just how many he
could not tell.</p>
<p>“The one that sent out the call was probably
the daddy of a large family,” he told himself,
“and he’s invited the whole family to a feast.
But,” he said as he set his teeth hard, “there
won’t be any feast if I can help it.”</p>
<p>Leaning his rifle against the sled, he dropped
his chin on his hands to lapse into deep thought.
Then suddenly he leaped into action.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t I think of that before?” he exclaimed
as he tore at the wrappings of the sled.</p>
<p>He had thought of the radiophone equipment
packed away on his sled, the reserve outfit
which always rode there.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</div>
<p>“If I can only get it set up,” he told himself,
“I’ll be able to call Curlie. Then he and Jennings
will make a dash for it. With rifles and
plenty of ammunition they’ll beat the wolves off.
We’ll feed some of their carcasses to the dogs
and have that much more caribou meat for
ourselves.”</p>
<p>His fingers trembled as he unpacked the detector
and set it firmly upon the overturned
sled. He had caught the gleam of a pair of
flashing eyes much closer than he had thought
the wolves would dare to come. He had caught,
too, the ominous sound of chop-chopping jaws.
Pete, the huskie, was ki-yi-ing and straining at
his chain. Major, the dog who always guarded
the sled at night, was sending forth a low
rumbling challenge.</p>
<p>As Joe set his amplifier into position, he sent
a flash of light from his electric torch full upon
one of those gray beasts. The wolf, recoiling
as if shot by a rifle, doubled into a heap, then
sprang snarling away.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</div>
<p>Joe laughed at this wild demonstration of
fear. The next instant his face sobered. He
was surprised at the size of these timber wolves
and at their gauntness.</p>
<p>“Starved to skin and bones. Ready for anything,”
he muttered grimly as he set two jointed
poles straight up in the snow.</p>
<p>From the top of these poles hung suspended
his coil aerial. There remained but to connect
the batteries. He was bent over the sled, intent
upon making these connections secure, when
he was startled by a mad chop of jaws directly
behind him. The next instant there was a wild
whirling of legs and fur, as Major engaged a
wolf in combat.</p>
<p>Snatching his rifle, Joe stood ready to do
deadly execution once the combatants separated.</p>
<p>“But only four cartridges,” he breathed,
“and my call for help not yet sent.” His heart
sank.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</div>
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