No scrap of clothing did the creatures wear, save a hide girdle, in which was stuck a broad-bladed knife, fit companion to the deadly-looking spear which each carried in its hand. Straight towards the great ruminant the creatures glided, their faces aglow with savage expectancy. Half a dozen paces from their quarry they paused, and, squatting on their haunches in a semicircle, raised a series of ghastly howls which thrilled the two spectators. The great bull trembled at the sound. Doubtless he knew these wolfish brutes of old; perhaps had been hunted by them, and had managed to shake them off. But now his time had come. Planting his forefeet firmly, he stood with lowered head, awaiting the end. Suddenly one of the hunters rose. Gripping his spear firmly with his teeth, he crouched for an instant, then leapt into the air. The amazing height of his leap staggered the watchers, while rousing a grudging admiration. “The brute must have sinews like watch-springs!” Seymour whispered, then---- A swift, upward flash of the great palmated antlers, a sound like the ripping of sacking, and, with a fearful death-cry, the daring leaper pitched heavily to the ground. The elk had drawn first blood! But it was his last effort in a hopeless struggle. Quick as lightning another of the elk-hunters sprang. High above the bull’s drooping head he leapt, and, ere the ill-fated animal could make another move, the wolfish creature was upon his back, stabbing out his life with his great spear. A few moments of feeble struggling, and then the elk fell with a crash, the life-blood pouring from his severed arteries. Scarcely was he down ere the waiting four were upon him, rending the still quivering flesh with their great nails. “Poor brute!” Seymour muttered compassionately; “let those demons have it, Silas.” The reports of the two rifles rang out as one, and a couple of the fearsome elk-hunters rolled over upon the carcase of their quarry, the rest diving like a flash to cover behind it. “I guess we’ll have to wipe them out now,” said the Yankee grimly, “or they’ll bring a hull hornet’s nest about our ears in half an hour.” A spear flashed up from behind the carcase as he spoke, and, missing Seymour by a hair’s-breadth, shivered itself to fragments against the boulder. “A close call,” remarked Silas. “Close indeed,” Seymour returned. “They’ll have one of us next time, sure as fate, if we remain here. Let us move round in opposite directions, and outflank them. Down!” he hissed suddenly, pushing Haverly violently to one side, as a second missile hummed towards them. His quick action saved the American, who would undoubtedly have been transfixed by the great weapon but for that. An instant later a hideous head poked up from behind the dead elk. Seymour let drive with a jerk, but, owing to the uncertain light, missed, his shot striking a monstrous puff-ball growing within a few feet of the spot whereon the carcase lay.