Ted Strong in Montana Part 22

She set about cooking some breakfast, and caught herself singing as she did so.

After she had eaten she sat down in her shelter to think a way out of her predicament.

She was in the midst of a reverie when she was brought to her feet by that most dreaded of sounds--the howl of the timber wolf.

For a moment she stood trembling, trying to think what her best course would be.

The wolves had smelled the frying bacon from afar, and had been attracted to it, for the scent had carried far in the clear air.

From another direction came another wolf cry, and presently they seemed to come from every direction.

They were far away as yet, but the wolves were gathering.

Without trying to reason further, Stella gathered up what food she could carry, and, grasping her rifle, struck out into the forest in the direction away from that from which the howls of the wolves came to her.

Suddenly to one side appeared a slinking, gray form, which slunk along, apparently dodging behind the trees, but following her.

As it came from behind a tree in fair sight, she swung her rifle to her shoulder and fired.

It was a strike, for the wolf, with a howl of pain sprang in the air, then rolled over on the snow and lay still.

As the report of the shot reverberated back from the mountains, it was followed by a perfect crescendo of wolf howls.

They sounded louder and nearer now, and Stella's heart began to beat rapidly with fear.

Too well she knew what would happen if they caught her.

But suddenly a thought came to her, and she stopped.

Surely Ted and the boys would come to find her. They might even now be on the way, and who could say they were not far away?

If she could only send them a message to let them know that they were on the right trail!

Her face lighted up with an inspiration. She had the means.

Breaking a stick from a low-growing tree, she began to write in the snow:

"I am followed by a wolf pack. Hurry." "Stella"

These were the words she left behind her for Ted to read should he come that way.

Then she hurried on with all speed.

Every few minutes the howls of the wolves a.s.sailed her ears as she struggled on through the snow.

Her burden of food was becoming very heavy, and she cast away a part of it.

Perhaps, she thought, it would serve to stop the wolves for a while when they found it on her trail.

Every moment seemed to bring the cries of the wolves nearer.

They were following in her footsteps now, for the noise was all behind her, not scattered over the forest, as it had been at first.

The brutes had gathered into a pack, and Stella shuddered as she pictured in her mind the gray band coming upon her with long, loping, tireless strides; with red, long, lolling tongues and slavering, sharp-fanged jaws.

Presently she heard another noise behind her, and looked over her shoulder.

The sight that met her eyes caused her to almost faint.

Not twenty yards behind her was an enormous gray wolf, loping along easily but as swiftly as a horse.

His eyes were blazing like green lamps, and his great body was scarred and torn. Evidently he was the king of the pack.

Stopping suddenly, she drew her revolver and fired two shots at him.

He came to a halt with a snarl of rage and began biting at his shoulder.

Then Stella turned and ran again, with the clamor of the pack close behind her.

But she was failing, and her run had become a painful stagger, and her breath came in gasps.

She was near the end, and she realized it. She fancied herself falling into the midst of that ravenous crew and shuddered. What could she do to save herself?

Not far ahead was a tree with a forked branch growing low enough for her to reach it if she still had strength to get so far. With almost a superhuman effort she continued her flight toward it.

As she reached it the great, gray king of the pack was only a few feet behind her, so close that she could hear him pant from his long run.

She reached up to the branch and tried to pull herself up, but it was an impossible task burdened with food and rifle and her coat, which she had removed at a time when she had stopped long enough to write another message in the snow for Ted.

She threw the rifle in the snow and tried it again, but she could not, and then cast aside the food and the coat, and succeeded in clambering into the sheltering nook just as the great wolf, leaping into the air, swept past her, carrying in his teeth a shred of her skirt. She was safe, but by a very narrow margin.

She looked up into the tree, for the branch upon which she was perched was so near the ground that she was not safe from the leaps of the savage and famished brutes.

But the next higher branch was far beyond her reach or her ability to climb to.

She must defend herself as best she could.

Fortunately she had retained her revolver and had a good supply of ammunition.

As the old wolf leaped again she fired, and knew that the ball had entered his neck. If she could shoot him often enough, she ought to kill him after a while.

But now the clamor was all about her. The pack had arrived, and was leaping about the foot of the tree like waves upon a storm-tossed sh.o.r.e.

Her red coat had been torn to shreds, and, in the fight over the food she had cast aside, more than one of the brutes had met his death by the razorlike teeth of his comrades.

Suddenly, through the din about her, Stella lifted her head and listened, while for a moment the wolves ceased leaping and howling and stood listening also.

From afar off, and very faintly, there came to her a subdued cheer. Her heart leaped with hope. Could it be the boys who were signaling to her?