"So I fooled you, did I, you gray rascals?" he said aloud. "You think you'll keep me here all night, do you, old hounds? Well, we'll see who wins out in the long run." Meanwhile, the wolves ran about howling disconsolately while Tom sat in the branches of the tree, rubbing his hands and arms to keep warm. He had removed the snowshoes and was just contemplating climbing to the top of the tree to keep his blood circulating, when three figures appeared on the brow of the hill. "As I live, it's the boys," he said to himself. "Go back!" he yelled, waving a red silk muffler. "Climb a tree quickly!" They had seen and heard him, and making for the nearest tree, each shinned up as fast as he could. "Here's a howdy-do," said Tom to himself. "Four boys treed by wolves and night coming on." Yet he swung his legs and whistled thoughtfully, while the others shouted to him, but he could not hear what they said, for the wind was blowing away from him. In the meantime the wolves did not all desert him and he could only wait patiently, with the others, for something to turn up. What did turn up was a good deal of a shock to all of them. Grace, Jessica, Nora and Anne suddenly emerged from the forest, standing out in bold relief on the brow of the hill. The three boys at the top of the hill all jumped to the ground at once. "Run for the trees," cried David, for the wolves had caught the new scent and had started toward them on a dead run. "Crack, crack," went a rifle. Instantly the first wolf staggered and fell backward. How was it that the boys had not noticed before that the girls were not alone? Another shot and a second wolf ran almost into their midst, gave a leap and fell dead. One more dropped; and the sole surviving wolf beat a frenzied retreat. "We found old Jean!" cried Grace. "Wasn't it the most fortunate thing in the world? And now nobody is killed and we are all safe and I'm so happy!" She gave the old hunter's arm a squeeze. Old Jean, enveloped in skins from top to toe, smiled good-naturedly. "It was the Bon Dieu, mademoiselle, who have preserve you. Do not t'ank ole Jean. It was the Bon Dieu who put it in ole Jean's haid to set rabbit trap to-night." He would accept neither money nor thanks for shooting the wolves. "I will skin them. It is sufficient." It was not long before eight very tired and very happy young people were seated around Mrs. Gray's dinner table. Grace was a little choky and homesick for her mother, now that all the danger was over, but the week of the house party was almost up, so she concealed her impatience to be home again. The softly shaded candles shed a warm glow over their faces, and the logs crackled on the brass andirons. They looked into each others' eyes and smiled sleepily. Had it all been a dream, their winter picnic, or was old Jean at that very moment really nailing wolf skins to his wall? CHAPTER XXI THE LOST LETTER