Cowmen and Rustlers: A Story of the Wyoming Cattle Ranges by Edward Sylvester Ellis (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📖

his sister and drawing her toward the shore on the left.

"I don't mean to," replied the bright-witted girl, "but if we turn away from him too soon he will be able to head us off; he mustn't suspect what we intend to do."

"There's sense in that," remarked Sterry, "but don't wait too long."

The three were skating close together, with their eyes on the big creature, who was watching them sharply.

"Now!" called Fred, in a low, quick voice.

He had not loosened his grip of his sister's arm, so that when he made the turn she was forced to follow him. The moment was well chosen, and the three swung to one side as if all were controlled by the single impulse.

Bruin must have been astonished; for, while waiting for his supper to drop into his arms, he saw it leaving him. With an angry growl he began moving toward the laughing party.

The tinge of anxiety which Fred Whitney felt lasted but a moment. He saw that they could skate faster than the bear could travel; and, had it been otherwise, no cause for fear would have existed, for, with the power to turn like a flash, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to elude the efforts of the animal to seize them.

They expected pursuit, and it looked for a minute as if they were not to be disappointed. The animal headed in their direction with no inconsiderable speed, but, with more intelligence than his kind generally display, he abruptly stopped, turned aside, and disappeared in the wood before it could be said the race had really begun.

Jennie was the most disappointed of the three, for she had counted upon an adventure worth the telling, and here it was nipped in the bud. She expressed her regret.

"There's no helping it," said Monteith, "for I can think of no inducement that will bring him back; but we have a good many miles before us, and it isn't likely that he's the only bear in this part of Maine."

"There's some consolation in that," she replied, leading the way back toward the middle of the course; "if we see another, don't be so abrupt with him."

The stream now broadened to nearly three times its ordinary extent, so that it looked as if they were gliding over the bosom of some lake lagoon instead of a small river. At the widest portion, and from the furthest point on the right, twinkled a second light, so far back among the trees that the structure from whence it came was out of sight. They gave it little attention and kept on.

Sterry took out his watch. The moonlight was so strong that he saw the figures plainly. It lacked a few minutes of nine.

"And yonder is the mouth of Wild Man's Creek," said Fred; "we have made pretty good speed."

"Nothing to boast of," replied Jennie; "if it were not for fear of distressing mother, I would insist that we go ten or fifteen miles further before turning back."

Since plenty of time was at command, they continued their easy pace, passing over several long and comparatively straight stretches of frozen water, around sharp bends, beyond another expansion of the stream, in front of a couple of natural openings, and finally, while it lacked considerable of ten o'clock, they rounded to in front of a mass of gray towering rocks on the right bank of the stream, and, skating close into shore, sat down on a bowlder which obtruded several feet above the ice.

They were at the extremity of their excursion. These collective rocks bore the name of Wolf Glen, the legend being that at some time in the past a horde of wolves made their headquarters there, and, when the winters were unusually severe, held the surrounding country in what might be called a reign of terror. They had not yet wholly disappeared, but little fear of them was felt.

The friends could not be called tired, though, after skating fifteen miles, the rest on the stone was grateful.

They sat for half an hour chatting, laughing, and as merry as when they started from home. The sky was still unclouded, but the moon had passed beyond the zenith. A wall of shadow was thrown out from one of the banks, except for occasional short distances, where the course of the stream was directly toward or from the orb.

When Sterry again glanced at his watch it was a few minutes past ten. They had rested longer than any one suspected.

"Mother won't look for us before midnight," remarked Fred, "and we can easily make it in that time."

"She was so anxious," said the sister, who, despite her light-heartedness, was more thoughtful than her brother, "that I would like to please her by getting back sooner than she expects."

"We have only to keep up this pace to do it," said Monteith, "for we have been resting fully a half hour—"

He paused abruptly. From some point in the wintry wilderness came a dismal, resounding wail, apparently a mile distant.

"What is that?" asked Monteith, less accustomed to the Maine woods than his companions.

"It is the cry of a wolf," replied Fred; "I have heard it many times when hunting alone or with father."

"It isn't the most cheerful voice of the night," commented the young Bostonian, who, as yet never dreamed of connecting it with any peril to themselves. And then he sang:

Yes, the war whoop of the Indian may produce a pleasant thrill When mellowed by the distance that one feels increasing still; And the shrilling of the whistle from the engine's brazen snout May have minor tones of music, though I never found it out.

The verse was hardly finished when the howl was repeated.

"It is hard to tell from what point it comes," observed Fred, "but I think it is on the right shore as we go back."

"Do you imagine it is far from the river?" inquired Monteith.

"I think not, but I may be mistaken."

"I am quite sure Fred is right," said his sister; "and, more than that, that particular wolf isn't a great way off. I wonder whether he has scented our trail?"

Before any comment could be made upon this remark, a second, third, fourth, and fully a half-dozen additional howls rang through the forest arches. They came from the left shore, and apparently were about as far off as the cry first heard.

"They are answers," said Fred, in a low voice, in which his companions detected a slight tremor.

It was at this moment that the first fear thrilled all three. The cries might mean nothing, but more likely they meant a good deal. The wolf is one of the fiercest of American wild animals when suffering from hunger, though a coward at other times, and a horde of them are capable of attacking the most formidable denizens of the woods.

The fact that they were between the skaters and home, and at no great