“The impudent beggars!” murmured Joe, and, bringing his shotgun up, he let drive at the nearest wolf. This time his aim was true, and the wolf leaped up, to fall dead. Instantly the other wolves fell upon their dead companion, rending the carcass limb from limb. “I must say I don’t like this,” declared Harry, in something of a nervous voice. “It looks as if they meant business. As soon as that wolf is gone they’ll turn on us again.” “Here comes a whole pack of wolves!” shouted Joe. He was right, a distant yelping and howling proclaimed their approach. Soon they burst into view, at least twenty strong, and in a twinkling the two young hunters found themselves completely surrounded! CHAPTER XI CONFRONTED BY THE ENEMY Fred had broken one of his snowshoes while running away from the deer, and Joel Runnell’s first work after Harry and Joe had left Snow Lodge was to repair this. “You want to be more careful in the future,” said the old hunter, when the job was finished. “So far you have tumbled into nothing worse than a snowbank. If you should slide over a cliff and land upon the rocks, you might get badly hurt.” “I intend to be careful in the future,” answered the youth. “I am sorry I ran away—now,” he added, regretfully. “Well, lad, as to that, it’s often much safer to run than to stand your ground. I dodged an old buck once for half an hour, and then escaped only by the skin of my teeth. Something got the matter with my gun, and it wouldn’t go off.” “Did you kill him?” “Yes, two days later. I made up my mind I’d have him, and I traveled nigh on thirty miles to lay him low.” After the necessary work around the lodge was concluded time hung heavily on Fred’s hands, and he decided to try his luck once more at fishing. “It’s better than doing nothing,” he said. “Well, it’s all right, only don’t fall into the hole, and get drowned,” cautioned Joel Runnell. And then Fred disappeared with his outfit, whistling merrily. Left to himself, Joel Runnell proceeded to split some more wood, and pile it up in a corner of the living-room. To his experienced eye he could see that another snowstorm was not far off, and how long it would last there was no telling. “We’ve got meat enough,” he reasoned to himself. “And so long as we have wood, too, there will be no cause to worry.” The thermometer had gone down once more, and he had to work at a lively rate to keep warm. He wondered how Fred was making out with his fishing, and grinned to himself. “Wager he won’t stay there long,” he muttered. “If he does, he’ll be frozen stiff.” The old hunter had just carried in his sixth armful of wood, when a shadow crossed the open doorway, and looking up he found himself confronted by Hiram Skeetles. The real estate dealer was a tall, thin man, with a leathery face and broken snags of yellowish teeth. He chewed tobacco constantly, and the corners of his mouth were much discolored in consequence.