iteness, and, as
he paused to rest in the shelter of a pile of tops left by the axe-men,
the foremost of the gray shadows that for the last two hours had dogged
his footsteps, phantom-like, resolved itself into a very tangible pair
of wicked eyes which smoldered in greenish points of hate above a very
sharp, fang-studded muzzle, from which a long, red tongue licked
suggestively at back-curled lips.

CHAPTER XIV

AT BAY

Bill Carmody was no coward; but neither was he a fool, and for the
first time the seriousness of his position dawned upon him. Other
shapes appeared and ranged themselves beside their leader, and as the
man looked upon their gaunt, sinewy leanness, the slavering jaws, and
blazing eyes, he shuddered. Here, indeed, was a very real danger.

He decided to camp. Fire, he remembered to have read, would hold the
brutes at bay. Wood there was in plenty, and, quickly clearing a space
in the snow, he soon had the satisfaction of seeing tiny tongues of
flame crackle in a pile of dry branches.

He unslung his light axe and attacked the limbs of a dead pine that lay
at the edge of the road.

After an hour's work his cleared space was flanked on either side by
piles of dry firewood, and at his back the great pile of tops afforded
shelter from the wind which swept down the roadway, driving before it
stinging volleys of snow.

He spread his blanket and drew from his pack the unappetizing food. He
warmed the remaining half-can of salmon and whittled at his nubbin of
bread.

"Dinner is served, sir," he announced to himself, "dead fish with
formaldehyde dressing, petrified dough, and _aqua nivis_." The storm
continued, and as he smoked the gravity of his plight forced itself
upon him.

The laggards had caught up, and at the edge of the arc of firelight a
wide semicircle of insanely glaring eyeballs and gleaming fangs told
where the wolf-pack waited.

There was a terrifying sense of certainty in their method. They took no
chance of open attack, wasted no breath in needless howling or
snarling, but merely sat upon their haunches beyond the circle of the
firelight--waiting.

Again the man shuddered. Before him, he knew, lay at least fifteen
miles of trail knee-deep with snow, and he had left but one small
ration of unpalatable and unnutritious food.

"I seem to be up against a tough proposition," he mused. "What was it
Appleton said about battle, murder, and sudden death? It looks from
here as if the