The shout rang out above the noise of the still whining wind. Aroused from a sound sleep by the startling cry, Bob struggled to a sitting position. Fortunately, he was a boy not easily rattled. The sight of those gleaming eyes told him what had happened, and it was perhaps more through instinct than anything else that he immediately pushed his musket forward and let fly at the nearest pair. Sandy was not far behind, and the double report made a crash that seemed to produce a temporary panic among the gaunt callers. They hastily withdrew, though with many snarls and long-drawn howls. Both boys were now on their feet, ready to swing their guns by the barrels if necessary, and use them as a further means of defence. Seeing that their enemies had beaten a temporary retreat, Bob sprang to the fire, and, kicking the partly burned log with his foot, stirred the flame into new life. "Throw on some small wood, Sandy!" he called, as he bent over the barricade to ascertain whether their lead had been wasted, or found its mark. "Did we get anything?" demanded the younger boy, understanding the object of Robert's survey, and being possessed of the frontier hunter's instinct, which looked upon the loss of a charge of powder and shot as next door to a sin. "One is lying here, and from the snarling over yonder I take it they are tearing the wounded fellow to pieces," replied the older boy, as he proceeded to reload his musket. "Well, I want that skin the worst way," ventured Sandy; "and if we leave the beggar outside the fort they will spoil it. So keep a watch while I climb over and drag the wolf inside." "Be careful," warned Bob, who knew his brother's rash inclinations only too well. He stood ready, with both guns within reach, so that, if at any time Sandy seemed to be in peril, he could pour in a hot fire that must frighten the four-footed enemy away again. But Sandy, himself, knew better than to take too much risk. No sooner had he seized hold of the dead animal than he started to move backward toward the logs that had been piled up to form a rampart. "Hurry!" cried the voice of the one on guard. "They are coming with a rush, and from three quarters! Leave the hide to them, and save yourself, brother!" But Sandy was an obstinate lad. He had made up his mind to possess the skin of the dead wolf, and did not want to relinquish it to the tender mercies of the pack. Having dragged it close to the logs, he exerted himself to the utmost to give the weighty animal a toss that would accomplish his purpose. Nevertheless, but for the prompt assistance of Bob, who clutched the beast and dragged it over, Sandy must have failed in his endeavor. "Quick! Climb up! They are here!" he heard shrilled in his ear.