In trying to stop quickly on the slippery snowcrust the wolves fell all over themselves. When the wolves were within fifty yards of the tree and coming swiftly Jonathan threw his rifle forward and yelled with all the power of his strong lungs: "Tige, we will save this buck from those gray devils if it costs a leg. "Well, if this doesn't beat me! I thought I knew a little about deer," said Jonathan. When they came to the spot where the deer had fallen a chorus of angry, thirsty howls filled the air.
With their noses close to the snow they followed the trail. He quivered and twitched his nostrils flared at every pant drops of blood flecked the snow his great dark eyes had a strained and awful look, almost human in its agony.Īnother yelp from the thicket and Jonathan looked up in time to see five timber wolves, gaunt, hungry looking beasts, burst from the bushes. When he reached the tree he crouched, or rather fell, on the ground within a yard of Jonathan and his dog. He came on in a lame uneven trot, making straight for the tree. The buck, however, showed no intention of passing by in his abject terror he saw in the man and the dog foes less terrible than those which were yelping on his trail. He thought the buck would pass close by him and he determined to shoot at the most favorable moment. Jonathan stepped behind a tree, which, however, was not large enough to screen his body. When he saw the man and the dog he started toward them without a moment's hesitation.Īt a warning word from Jonathan the dog sank on the snow. The buck staggered to his feet he turned this way and that. The next instant the baying of the wolves, which had ceased for a moment, sounded close at hand. Jonathan saw that it was a buck and that he was well nigh exhausted his head swung low from side to side he sank slowly to his knees, and showed every indication of distress. Another moment and he was no longer in doubt, for a deer dashed out of the thicket. They were in pursuit of something, whether quadruped or man he could not decide. Jonathan could not see the wolves, but he heard distinctly their peculiar, broken howls. The hill sloped gradually on the other side, ending in a white, unbroken plain which extended to the edge of the laurel thicket a quarter of a mile distant. When he reached the summit the clear baying of hunting wolves was borne to his ears. He dropped his axe and the traps and ran the remaining short distance up the hill. Turning his ear to the breeze Jonathan heard faint yelps from far over the hilltop. Snow, snow everywhere, its white monotony relieved here and there by a black tree trunk.
Jonathan looked up and down the creek valley and along the hillside, but he saw no living thing. "Well, Tige, old fellow, what is it?" said Jonathan Zane, for this was he.
The big black dog had put his nose high in the air and had sniffed at the cold wind. His snow-shoes sank into the drifts as he labored up the steep hill. The man carried a rifle, an axe, and several steel traps. On this frosty January morning the only signs of life round the settlement were a man and a dog walking up Wheeling hill. The pine trees in the yard were weighted down and drooped helplessly with their white burden. Zane's fence and in some places the top rail had disappeared. The huge drifts were on a level with Col. The hills surrounding Fort Henry were white with snow.
This natural bridge would remain solid until spring had loosened the frozen grip of old winter. An ice gorge had formed in the bend of the river at the head of the island and from bank to bank logs, driftwood, broken ice and giant floes were packed and jammed so tightly as to resist the action of the mighty current. The Black Forest had changed autumn's gay crimson and yellow to the somber hue of winter and now looked indescribably dreary. THE chilling rains of November and December's flurry of snow had passed and mid-winter with its icy blasts had set in.
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