She threw the rifle in the snow and tried it again, but she could not,
and then cast aside the food and the coat, and succeeded in clambering
into the sheltering nook just as the great wolf, leaping into the air,
swept past her, carrying in his teeth a shred of her skirt. She was
safe, but by a very narrow margin.
She looked up into the tree, for the branch upon which she was perched
was so near the ground that she was not safe from the leaps of the
savage and famished brutes.
But the next higher branch was far beyond her reach or her ability to
climb to.
She must defend herself as best she could.
Fortunately she had retained her revolver and had a good supply of
ammunition.
As the old wolf leaped again she fired, and knew that the ball had
entered his neck. If she could shoot him often enough, she ought to kill
him after a while.
But now the clamor was all about her. The pack had arrived, and was
leaping about the foot of the tree like waves upon a storm-tossed shore.
Her red coat had been torn to shreds, and, in the fight over the food
she had cast aside, more than one of the brutes had met his death by the
razorlike teeth of his comrades.
Suddenly, through the din about her, Stella lifted her head and
listened, while for a moment the wolves ceased leaping and howling and
stood listening also.
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