It grew very dark about them, and the pleasant patter, almost musical in its rhythm, kept up.Not much wind was blowing, and it, too, was melodious.Henry lay with his head on a little heap of ashes, which was covered by his under blanket, and, for the first time since he had brought the warning to Wyoming, he was free from all feeling of danger.The picture itself of the battle, the defeat, the massacre, the torture, and of the savage Queen Esther cleaving the heads of the captives, was at times as vivid as ever, and perhaps would always return now and then in its original true colors, but the periods between, when youth, hope, and strength had their way, grew longer and longer.
Now Henry's eyelids sank lower and lower.Physical comfort and the presence of his comrades caused a deep satisfaction that permeated his whole being.The light wind mingled pleasantly with the soft summer rain.The sound of the two grew strangely melodious, almost piercingly sweet, and then it seemed to be human.They sang together, the wind and rain, among the leaves, and the note that reached his heart, rather than his ear, thrilled him with courage and hope.Once more the invisible voice that had upborne him in the great valley of the Ohio told him, even here in the ruined valley of Wyoming, that what was lost would be regained.The chords ended, and the echoes, amazingly clear, floated far away in the darkness and rain.
Henry roused himself, and came from the imaginative borderland.
He stirred a little, and said in a quiet voice to Shif'less Sol:
"Did you hear anything, Sol?"
"Nothin' but the wind an' the rain."
Henry knew that such would be the answer.
"I guess you didn't hear anything either, Henry," continued the shiftless one, "'cause it looked to me that you wuz 'bout ez near sleep ez a feller could be without bein' ackshooally so.""I was drifting away," said Henry.
He was beginning to realize that he had a great power, or rather gift.Paul was the sensitive, imaginative boy, seeing everything in brilliant colors, a great builder of castles, not all of air, but Henry's gift went deeper.It was the power to evoke the actual living picture of the event that bad not yet occurred, something akin in its nature to prophecy, based perhaps upon the wonderful power of observation, inherited doubtless, from countless primitive ancestors.The finest product of the wilderness, he saw in that wilderness many things that others did not see, and unconsciously he drew his conclusions from superior knowledge.
The song had ceased a full ten minutes, and then came another note, a howl almost plaintive, but, nevertheless, weird and full of ferocity.All knew it at once.They had heard the cry of wolves too often in their lives, but this had an uncommon note like the yell of the Indian in victory.Again the cry arose, nearer, haunting, and powerful.The five, used to the darkness, could see one another's faces, and the look that all gave was the same, full of understanding and repulsion.
"It has been a great day for the wolf in this valley," whispered Paul, "and striking our trail they think they are going to find what they have been finding in such plenty before.""Yes," nodded Henry, "but do you remember that time when in the house we took the place of the man, his wife and children, just before the Indians came?""Yes," said Paul.
"We'll treat them wolves the same way," said Shif'less Sol.
"I'm glad of the chance," said Long Jim.
"Me, too," said Tom Ross.
The five rose up to sitting positions against the board wall, and everyone held across his knees a long, slender barreled rifle, with the muzzle pointing toward the forest.All accomplished marksmen, it would only be a matter of a moment for the stock to leap to the shoulder, the eye to glance down the barrel, the finger to pull the trigger, and the unerring bullet to leap forth.
"Henry, you give the word as usual," said Shif'less Sol.
Henry nodded.
Presently in the darkness they heard the pattering of light feet, and they saw many gleaming eyes draw near.There must have been at least thirty of the wolves, and the five figures that they saw reclining, silent and motionless, against the unburned portion of the house might well have been those of the dead and scalped, whom they had found in such numbers everywhere.They drew near in a semicircular group, its concave front extended toward the fire, the greatest wolves at the center.Despite many feastings, the wolves were hungry again.Nothing had opposed them before, but caution was instinctive.The big gray leaders did not mind the night or the wind or the rain, which they had known all their lives, and which they counted as nothing, but they always had involuntary suspicion of human figures, whether living or not, and they approached slowly, wrinkling back their noses and sniffing the wind which blew from them instead of the five figures.But their confidence increased as they advanced.They had found many such burned houses as this, but they had found nothing among the ruins except what they wished.
The big leaders advanced more boldly, glaring straight at the human figures, a slight froth on their lips, the lips themselves curling back farther from the strong white teeth.The outer ends of the concave semicircle also drew in.The whole pack was about to spring upon its unresisting prey, and it is, no doubt, true that many a wolfish pulse beat a little higher in anticipation.
With a suddenness as startling as it was terrifying the five figures raised themselves, five long, dark tubes leaped to their shoulders, and with a suddenness that was yet more terrifying, a gush of flame shot from five muzzles.Five of the wolves-and they were the biggest and the boldest, the leaders-fell dead upon the ashes of the charred timbers, and the others, howling their terror to the dark, skies, fled deep into the forest.
Henry strode over and pushed the body of the largest wolf with his foot.
