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Chapter XII: A Fearful Dilemma

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Slim Tyler had no time to aim at the savage brute that had launched itself in mid-air in the attack on Jerry Marbury. But his trained muscles acted like lightning.

His rifle, held by the muzzle, described a circle and came down with crushing force on the wolf's head.

There was a sharp crack as the skull caved in, and the beast fell to the floor, rolling over and over in the agonies of death.

The besieged youths had no time to rejoice over the narrow escape, for the head of another brute appeared at the opening.

Before it could spring, Mylert's rifle rang out, and the body came tumbling to the earth floor of the cabin.

It was not mortally wounded and still showed fight, but another shot from Jerry's gun ended its life.

The young men looked at each other, pale and panting.

"A pretty lively time while it lasted," commented Slim, summoning up a wry smile.

"Sure keeps the blood in circulation," admitted Dick.

"And it isn't over yet!" cried Jerry, as his rifle rang out and filled the cabin with echoes.

A third beast at the roof opening fell back with a frightful snarl, and they could hear the body rolling over and over as it slithered along the snowy roof and finally fell to the ground.

"I wonder if they'll come for any more medicine of the same kind," remarked Jerry.

"I don't know," replied Slim. "It certainly takes a long time to get an idea through some fool heads."

It did seem, though, that the savage brutes had at last learned the lesson that the roof was not exactly a health resort for wolves. At all events, a long time elapsed before any move took place on the part of the besiegers that could be interpreted by the occupants of the cabin as an attack.

An hour went by, then two, and still the assault was delayed.

"Guess they've gone off now for fair," surmised Jerry.

"Don't kid yourself," said Dick, from the loophole through which he was peering. "Those fellows hang on like grim death. Why shouldn't they? They probably haven't any pressing engagements elsewhere, and they figure that luck may turn. There! I saw a couple just now slinking through the brushwood. Oh, they're there, all right. Hand me my gun, Jerry. I think I can pot one of them right now."

Jerry passed over the gun and Dick took careful aim and fired.

"Winged him!" he cried exultantly, as a howl of pain and fright followed the shot. "One less to count on. The pack's on him already. A minute more and all his troubles will be over."

Another hour passed and still no sign of attack.

"Getting near morning," remarked Slim, as he looked at his watch.

"And it will never again be so welcome," sighed Jerry. "Those fellows don't like the light and they'll scatter as soon as the sun rises."

"What's that smell of smoke?" asked Dick suddenly.

"Comes from the fireplace, I guess," yawned Jerry.

"Don't you believe it!" cried Slim. "It's more than that. And listen to that crackling! Boys, the cabin's on fire!"

That terrible pronouncement fell on the aviators' ears like the crack of doom. There was no mistaking the fact. Smoke was beginning to eddy in through the hole in the door and wisps of it shredded through the crack in the building. The crackling grew more pronounced, and the space before the building was lighted up with a lurid glare.

"It's those brands we threw outside to scare off the wolves," groaned Slim. "One of them must have dropped so close to the cabin that it's caught fire. Fools that we were! Why didn't we throw them farther away?"

Red tongues of fire now began to sift through the cracks in the logs and fill the cabin with a ruddy flickering light.

Those within looked at each other in consternation. There was no way to put out the fire. They had no water, and even if they had had, there would have been no way to apply it to the outside of the building. The wolves would have been on them in an instant the moment they showed themselves outside the door.

The wolves themselves seemed to realize the predicament in which the besieged were placed. The cunning beasts had gathered in front of the cabin and squatted there, their white fangs showing, their jaws slavering in expectation of a feast.

The young aviators looked at each other.

"The cabin's doomed!" groaned Jerry.

"Just a chance between being roasted or eaten alive," judged Dick gloomily.

"See if there's a back door to the place, Jerry," directed Slim Tyler, whose mind had been working at lightning speed.

Jerry darted into the lean-to and returned in an instant.

"Nothing doing," he reported. "Our only way of getting out is by the front door."

The front door! And in front of that door, only a few yards away, were a dozen or fifteen gaunt, hungry, savage wolves, waiting to launch themselves on their prey!

"There's only one chance, fellows," said Slim Tyler between his teeth, "and I'll admit that it's a desperate one. We've got to depend on surprise. Let's move that table back from the door."

This was done.

"Now," said Slim, "slip your cartridges into your pockets and strap your rifles over your shoulders, so that they won't be in the way of your arms and legs."

Slim's companions obeyed rapidly, not knowing yet what their leader had in mind, but yielding to him without hesitation.

"Pick out your trees," went on Slim. "Choose slender ones that you can climb rapidly and yet strong enough to support your weight. Then when I give the word we'll throw the door open and make for the trees. Each of us will pick out a couple of blazing brands from the fire and throw 'em in the faces of the pack as we run. We'll have the advantage of the surprise, anyway. It may work and it may not. It's a forlorn hope, but it's the only chance we have."

They shook hands solemnly. In the minds of each was the thought that they might never touch hands again. With a blazing brand in each hand they faced the door.

"All ready?" asked Slim.

"Ready," came the answer.

"Go!" shouted Slim, flinging open the door.

They charged down on the savage horde, yelling like Indians and waving their fiery torches before throwing them into the faces of the pack.

The astonished wolves, daunted by the fire, taken by surprise, and bewildered by finding themselves the hunted instead of the hunters, gave way in confusion and scattered in the woods.

Before they could recover themselves, the young adventurers were legging it for dear life toward their chosen trees!

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Lost over GreenlandChapter XII: A Fearful Dilemma

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