pe we shall
play it as well."

The wolves, however, seemed resolved not to let us escape. They nearly
overtook us; and though we turned, skating away now to the right and now
to the left bank of the river, they declined imitating our example.

"Our best chance is to keep straight on," said Uncle Mark. "Don't give
in, whatever you do. Our legs are as strong as theirs, and they will
begin to get tired at last."

I was not so sure of that till, looking back for a moment, I saw that
the pack was drawn out into a long line, showing that some, at all
events--probably the younger animals--were losing wind. If, however,
only one brute had succeeded in catching hold of our legs, it would have
been all up with us.

Fearfully depressing indeed were their howls; as they sounded close
behind us, they almost took the life out of me. Two of the largest of
the brutes were not five yards from us, and I was already beginning to
feel as if their sharp fangs were fixed in the calves of my legs, when I
saw several figures in the distance, and faint shouts were borne on the
breeze towards us.

"Courage, Roger! courage!" cried Uncle Mark. "Put forth all your
strength, and we shall be saved. Those are friends."

As we moved on we perceived Kepenau and a number of Indians rushing
towards us, flourishing sticks, and shouting at the top of their voices.
Kepenau himself, and three others, were armed with rifles.

"Turn on one side," he shouted, "and let us aim at the wolves."

We followed his advice; when four rifle-shots sent over as many of the
howling brutes. The rest, frightened by the shouts of the Indians as
much probably as by the death of their companions, turned off on one
side, and allowed us to escape. Instead, however, of going back, they
continued their course down the river. Probably they had been bound in
that direction when they first winded us.

We were saved; but so overcome were we by our long-continued violent
exertions, that, had not our Indian friends caught us in their arms, we
should have sunk exhausted on the ice. Taking off our skates, they
supported us between their arms to their camp. Here, seated on mats,
with our feet before the fire, we were kindly tended by the squaws, who
rubbed our ankles and legs, and bathed our feet in water. Some warm
broth--we did not examine too minutely the ingredients--quickly restored
us; and we were able to give an account of our adventure.

It was now too late to