apon was accompanied by the death cry of the savage, followed
quickly by a long, fierce yell of rage from the fallen man's comrades.

Then the pursuit hung back a little, but it came on again soon, as
terrible and as tenacious as ever. He reloaded his rifle as he ran, but
he knew that unless some strange chance intervened soon he must turn and
fight for his life. The ground dropped suddenly and he ran down a steep
slope into a wide valley, the trend of which was from north to south.
Here he gained a little, but he heard a shout on his right and saw three
warriors coming up the valley, not thirty yards away. At the same time,
the long, fierce whine of the wolves was registered somewhere on his
brain, but he did not take definite note of it until afterward.

The foremost of the Indians fired and missed, to receive in return the
bullet from Henry's reloaded rifle, but the other two came on, shouting.
He hurled his hatchet and struck down the second, but the third paused
twenty feet away and whirled his tomahawk about his head in glittering
circles. Henry instinctively raised his rifle to ward off the blade in
its flight, but he knew that the guard would not do. The tomahawk would
leave the warrior's hand like a thunderbolt, and it would go straight to
its destined mark. He saw the evil joy in the man's eyes, his
anticipation of quick and savage victory, and then the cloud of motes
before his own eyes increased to myriads. His heart, crying out against
so much exertion, beat so painfully that he thought he could not stand
it any longer, and a veil of thick mist was drawn down between him and
the triumphant warrior. Then he suddenly stood erect and the hair upon
his head lifted once more.

There was a horrible growl and a gigantic wolf, shooting out of the
mist, launched himself straight at the warrior's throat. Henry heard the
man's terrible cry and saw him go down, and then he saw the figures of
other wolves, enlarged by the vapors, following their leader. But that
was all he beheld then. Uttering a cry of his own, wrenched from him by
the appalling sight, he snatched up his hatchet, turned and ran up
the valley, with strength coming from new and unknown sources.

[Illustration: "A gigantic wolf ... launched himself straight at the
warrior's throat"]

The heavy mists that were floating over the low ground enclosed Henry,
but he did not look back. He knew instinctively that he was no longer
followed. Once he thought he