Harry re-loaded and took careful aim at the largest wolf in the pack. But the beast was wary, and just as the young hunter pulled the trigger it leaped to one side, so that the shot flew wide of its mark, striking another wolf in the tail, causing an added howl of pain and rage, but no serious damage. After that the wolves seemed inclined to keep their distance. Occasionally one would draw closer, with nose uplifted, sniffing the blood of the deer, but as soon as one or the other of the lads raised his gun the beast would slink back behind a tree, bush, or rock. “I guess they are going to play a waiting game,” said Joe, after a dreary half hour had passed. “Do you think they expect us to come down?” “They know we won’t want to remain up here forever.” “If we only had something with which to scare them.” “Perhaps we can fix up something.” “What do you mean?” “I was thinking of those deer. What have you got in the way of powder and shot?” Harry showed his store, and Joe looked over what he possessed. “We’ll fix ’em,” said Joe, getting out his knife. With great care he cut a chunk of venison, and wrapped it in a piece of the deer skin. Inside of the skin he placed a quantity of powder and shot, and to this added a fuse, a rude affair, but one that looked as if it might burn. Then he cut several other pieces of venison. “Now feed these to the wolves, one at a time,” he said to his brother. Harry understood, and threw one of the bits far out from the tree. A wolf came and sniffed at it, and then began to eat. Another bit brought several other of the beasts up, and then the whole pack crowded up close. “Now then, take that, and see how you like it!” cried Joe, and, lighting the fuse, he threw the big piece down in the very center of the pack. “Now use your gun, Harry!” he cried, and snatched up his own firearm. There was a moment of suspense, and then bang! went the charge in the venison, causing several of the wolves to fall back badly wounded. An instant later crack! crack! went the two shotguns of the young hunters. When the smoke cleared away it was found that three of the wolves were dead, and two others were seriously, if not mortally, wounded. The slaughter thoroughly scared those which remained, and in a twinkling they turned and disappeared into the forest, some howling and yelping as they ran. “That is the time we did it!” cried Joe. “They’ve learned a lesson they won’t forget.” “Will they come back?” “I hardly think so. Runnell told me once that when a wolf is thoroughly scared he’ll run for miles before he stops.” The wounded beasts were drawing away as fast as their hurts would permit, and in a few minutes only the dead animals were in sight. With caution the young hunters descended to the ground and looked around among the trees. “They are gone, that’s certain,” announced Joe. “I don’t believe we’ll see or hear of them again.”