"This is leadin' us right out on the pond."

"I declare, so it is!" murmured d.i.c.k. "We started due southwest, didn't we?"

"To a hair, lad. To tell the truth, I didn't take much to this trail from the start. To my mind this stream is a new one. I think the next outlet is one of the old-timers."

Once more they held a consultation, and Tom asked how far it was to the next stream.

"Right over yonder rise o' ground," answered the guide. "But hadn't you better wait till after dinner before ye tackle it?"

d.i.c.k consulted his watch.

"I declare! Quarter to twelve!" he exclaimed. "No wonder I'm feeling hungry."

"I was getting hungry myself," said Tom "But I wasn't going to be the first to stop. What shall we do--go back to camp?"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k. "I don't like the idea of leaving Jasper Grinder there all day alone."

"Nor I," came from the other Rovers.

John Barrow was asked to lead them back by the shortest route, and they started quarter of an hour later, after all had had a chance to rest and get back their wind.

"I hope we get a chance at some deer while we are up here," remarked d.i.c.k, as they turned back.

"I'll take you to where there are deer, after this hunt is over,"

replied John Barrow. "I know a famous spot, and it's not far, either."

"Hark!" suddenly cried Tom. "What sort of a yelping is that?"

All listened.

"Wolves!" answered John Barrow. "There must be quite a pack of 'em, too."

"I suppose they get pretty hungry when there is such a deep snow," said Tom.

"They do. More'n likely some of 'em have scented our b'ar meat and they want some."

"If they are heading for camp, they'll give Jasper Grinder trouble," put in Sam.

He had scarcely spoken when they heard the report of a gun, followed by a louder yelping than ever.

"They've attacked him, true enough!" cried John Barrow.

"Come on," said d.i.c.k. "The sooner we get back the better. Grinder may be having a pile of trouble, and the wolves may tear all our things to pieces if they get the chance."

CHAPTER XXIX.

JASPER GRINDER AND THE WOLVES.

Left to himself, Jasper Grinder piled the wood on the camp-fire and then sat down to meditate on the turn affairs had taken.

He was in a thoroughly sour frame of mind. To his way of thinking everything had gone wrong, and he wondered how matters would terminate.

"I was a fool to come out here, in the first place," he told himself. "I ought to have known that Baxter had no sure thing of it. If I hadn't fallen in with the Rovers, I would have frozen and starved to death. And they don't want me; that's plainly to be seen."

Had he felt able to do so, he would have packed a knapsack with provisions and started oh his way down the river toward Timber Run. But he did not know how far the settlement was away, and he was afraid to trust himself alone in such a wilderness as confronted him on every hand. He did not possess much money, but he would have given every dollar to be safe back in the city again.

He wondered if the Rovers would gain possession of the treasure before the Baxter party came up, and also wondered what would happen should the two parties come together. He had not been treated very well by Dan Baxter, and so he hardly cared who came out on top in the struggle for the treasure.

"Whoever gets it will try to count me out," was the way he reasoned.

"I'm at the bottom of the heap, and likely to stay there for some time to come."

The time dragged slowly, and to occupy himself he began to cut more wood for the fire. The task made him grit his teeth.

"Got to work like a common woodchopper," he muttered. "It's a shame!"

He was just dragging the last of the wood up to the fire when a sudden yelping broke upon his ears. Looking up, he saw a lone wolf standing at the edge of the timber, gazing fixedly at him.

"A wolf!" he muttered, and his face grew pale. "Scat!" And he waved his hand threateningly.

The wolf disappeared behind some brush, but did not go far. Sitting down, it let out the most dismal howls imaginable, which soon brought a dozen or more other wolves to the scene. Then all of the pack came into view, much to Jasper Grinder's horror.

"They want to eat me up!" he groaned, and ran for the nearest tree, which was close to the shelter. "Oh, I must get away, somehow!"

He clutched at the tree and began to climb with all possible-speed. His gun lay close at hand, but in his haste he forgot to pick it up. Once in the tree he sat down on a limb, a perfect picture of misery.

Seeing the man retreat the wolves at once became bolder, and keeping a safe distance from the fire, they drew up in a circle around the tree upon which Jasper Grinder rested, and from which hung the bear meat. At one point under the tree there was a spot covered with bear's blood, and this blood several of the wolves licked up in a manner to make the former teacher's own blood run cold.

"If they get at me they'll chew me up, I know they will," he moaned.

"Oh, why did I ever come out in this savage waste!"

Sitting in a circle, the wolves lifted their heads and howled dismally.

Two came to the tree and scratched the bark, as if to attempt climbing.

"Go away! Go away!" shrieked Jasper Grinder. "Scat! Go away!"

The wolves left the tree-trunk, but did not go away. Instead one after another began to leap up, trying to reach the meat which hung so temptingly above them. One or two prowled among the stores, tearing this and that, and picking up the sc.r.a.ps of the morning meal.

In this fashion half an hour went by, and it is safe to state that this was the longest and most trying half hour that Jasper Grinder experienced in his whole life. He shouted at the wolves and threw bits of sticks at them, but to this they paid no attention. Then he cried for help, but the Rovers and John Barrow were too far off to hear him.

"If I only had the gun, I could fire it as a signal," he said to himself. "Why did I not bring it up with me?"

He wondered if he could pull the gun up by means of a string he found in his pocket, and resolved to try. Making a loop in one end of the string he lowered it with care, until it rested close to the gun, and then he did his best to slide the string along under the barrel. This was comparatively easy, for the barrel was tilted up against a rock.

The wolves watched the maneuvering with interest, and no sooner did the gun begin to shift than three leaped forward, snarling angrily. One snapped at the barrel of the piece, one at the b.u.t.t, and a third at the trigger. An instant later came the report heard by the Rovers and John Barrow.