"By Jove, I think the brute is going to stand and fight!" said Ted to
himself.
Taking advantage of the situation, the pony trotted past Ted, who
scarcely gave it a look, and went on to the corral back of the house.
"So it's going to be a fight," said Ted, advancing cautiously toward the
wolf. "All right, old chap; I'll give you something to think about, if I
do not leave you on the ground entirely incapable of thinking. I wish
I'd gone after my Winchester now. That would have made it too short,
though. Come on, now. All I have is a short knife blade against four
sharp fangs, and you are as brave as the devil himself."
The wolf had not stirred except that his nose was constantly working as
he sniffed the air for Ted.
Ted knew that a wolf that will stand and fight a man by himself is
possessed of more than ordinary courage and brains, and, therefore, he
was on the lookout for the tricks of the fight.
It was well that he was so versed, for before he was quite ready for it
the wolf, without a sound, leaped straight through the air at his
throat. He had just time to dodge aside, and make a vicious swipe with
his knife.
But his blade did not touch the wolf, whose leap carried him several
feet past Ted. Had the wolf succeeded in striking Ted, they would
inevitably have gone down together, and Ted would have had none the best
of it.
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