reaks of blood on him and he stared at the
animal, amazed. He did not know that a black bear could make such a
fight against a powerful feline brute, but evidently, wild with terror,
he had used all his claws and teeth at once. The panther caught sight of
Henry looking at him, and, uttering a scream or two, bounded into the
bushes. In the cave, the bear remained silent and triumphant.

"What will happen next?" said Henry to himself.

The howl of the wolf pack came in reply.

CHAPTER III

A MERRY NIGHT

The long whine, a mingling of ferocity, fear and perhaps of hunger too,
came from a point nearer than before, and Henry was confirmed in his
opinion that Wyatt's main band had been joined by other and smaller
ones, thus enabling them to form a circle practically continuous,
through which the wolves had not dared to break. The pack, moreover, was
steadily being driven in toward the center of the circle which was
naturally the rocky hollow. He foresaw further complications.

Henry was very thoughtful. Affairs were not going as he had expected,
and yet he was not disappointed. He had believed that he would have to
show great activity himself, slipping here and there, and putting in a
timely shot or two, but other factors had entered into the situation,
and, with his normal flexibility of mind, he resolved at once to put
them to the best use.

The wind was blowing from the pack toward him, and, if it shifted, he
meant to shift with it, but meanwhile he made himself as inconspicuous
as possible, finding a small depression in which he stretched his body,
thus being hidden from any eye except the keenest. Although the night
was far advanced, it retained its quality of silky or luminous
brightness, the whole world still swimming in the silver haze which the
full moon and the countless stars cast.

He wondered what had become of the scratched and angry panther. Endowed
with strength, but only with a fitful courage, it too must be lying
somewhere near in the forest, torn by wrath and perplexity. He was quite
sure that like the wolves it was encircled by the Indian ring, and would
not dare the attempt to break it. He was compelled to laugh once more to
himself. It was, in truth, a merry night.

But as the laugh died in his throat his whole body gave a nervous
quiver. A cry came from a point not ten yards distant, a long,
melancholy, quavering sound, not without a hint of ferocity, in fact the
complaining voice of