Just as he began to feel what he called "dopey," sitting there by the warm fire, his head nodding, Frank caught a sound that disturbed his growing confidence that the worst was past. It was a series of queer, blood-curdling yelps that he guessed came from a pack of those fierce, mountain gray wolves Jerry had told him about. From the tenor of their eager howls, the boy knew they must be hunting for something toothsome with which to sate their ferocious appetites! CHAPTER XIV THE TIMBER-WOLF PACK "That sounds bad to me," Frank told himself, as he listened to the long-drawn howls of the carniverous wolves, echoing so drearily along the side of the mountain. "Seems like this is my night for shaking hands with Old Man Trouble right along. Whew, there must be as many as half a dozen hungry creatures in that pack!" He fed more sticks to his snapping blaze, and a minute or two later had made up his mind. "Doesn't seem to be a decent-sized tree left around these diggings. I reckon an avalanche must have carried them all down to the foot of the mountain, and these saplings are second-growth timber. That means I'm not going to follow Paul's example, and roost in a tree." Frank, of course, was well acquainted with the fact that nearly all wild animals to be found in western wilds are afraid of fire. That would mean he must have sufficient fuel close at hand to keep his blaze going for several hours; really until the coming of dawn should send the ravenous beasts skulking off to their dens, they being creatures of the night. "Time I got busy and collected all the stuff that will burn," he said, after making this decision to stand by the fire as his best resort. "It might even be I'll have to start a second blaze, to keep them from creeping up from the rear and taking me off my guard." He went to the task with great energy, forgetting all about sore arms in his desire to pile up the wood. Crash! and down came the heavy rock again and again, breaking the wood in short lengths suitable for his purpose. It was wonderful how rapidly his pile grew, but then Frank was fully aware of the tremendous amount of fuel an open campfire can devour in the course of several hours, and if his supply gave out just at a critical moment he would be undone. Now and then he would stop to listen. "Their keen ears must have heard this noise of my wood-smasher at work, and chances are they'll get wise," he remarked between his gasps for breath at one period of his energetic labors. "Yes, their howls are a whole lot closer than when I first heard them." That caused a quick return to work, for his wood-pile was not as large as caution dictated. How Frank wished he had his rifle with him, for then he could rapidly diminish the pack until the rest took fright and left for some distant refuge.