"A shot might bring an answering signal from Dick," went on Tom suddenly. "What fools we have been, not to think of that before!" The wolf kept hidden and Tom did not shoot, expecting to see the beast reappear at any instant. On they went, keeping an eye on the bushes and trees on both sides of them. Once they heard the patter of the wolf's feet on a stretch of bare rocks, but that was all. "I'll fire a shot, anyway," said Tom at last, and aimed in the direction where they had heard the sounds last. To his intense surprise a yelp and a snarl followed. "Great Caesar! I hit him after all," began Tom, and then leaped back. "Look out, Sam, he's coming for us!" Tom was right. The wolf, wounded in the left flank, had suddenly appeared. His eyes blazed with pain and fury, and he made as if to spring upon the boys. Tom was in front of the sled and Sam behind it. With a quick leap Tom cleared the load and took up a position beside the youngest Rover. The wolf made the leap, but stopped short on the top of the load. As he prepared to spring again Tom swung his gun around by the barrel and hit the wolf a smart rap on the head. The animal rolled over on the ground. "Shoot him, Sam!" "I will, if I can!" came from Sam, who had now unslung his gun. Taking a quick aim, he fired. The shot proved a good one, for it took the wolf directly in the neck, just as he was scrambling to rise. Again he gave a yelp, and then began to turn over and over in his intense pain. Of a sudden he leaped up and landed on Tom's shoulder. For the instant poor Tom thought his last moment had come. But as the beast landed Sam struck it with his gun, and down it went once more, snarling viciously. Then it rolled and tossed until some brush was gained, when it managed to hide itself and crawl away, seriously, if not mortally, wounded. "He's gone!" came from Sam. "Well, don't go after him," panted Tom. "Let him go and welcome. I never want to see him again." "Nor I." Both reloaded with all haste--having learned years before that it is foolish to remain in the wilds with an empty firearm. Then they waited, to see if the wolf would return. "Hark!" cried Sam. "Did you hear that shot, Tom?" "I did. I think it came from that direction." And Tom pointed with his hand. "I think so myself. It must be Dick or Mr. Barrow, firing." "More than likely. Let us follow up the shot." They listened, but no more shots followed, and then they went on, over a stretch which was comparatively smooth and free from brushwood. But though they covered a quarter of a mile they saw nothing either of the river or of their lost companions. "We're getting lost more than ever," groaned Sam. "I declare I haven't the least idea where we are." "I'm going to fire another shot," answered his brother, and proceeded to do so. Both listened with strained ears, and soon an answering shot came back, slightly to the left of the path they had been pursuing.