He was pretty certain that death faced them both.

They might escape the wolves, but the refuge of a tree, with the voracious pack on guard below, meant only a more painless end by cold.

Still, while there was life there was hope, and he hurried on through the snow, listening for the wolves behind him and with each moment feeling more keenly that his own powers of endurance were rapidly reaching an end.
For some reason that Wabi could not explain the hunt-pack had ceased to give tongue.

Not only the allotted two minutes, but five of them, passed without the appearance of the animals on the lake.

Was it possible that they! had lost the trail?
Then it occurred to the Indian that perhaps he had wounded one of the pursuers, and that the others, discovering his injury, had set upon him and were now participating in one of the cannibalistic feasts that had saved them thus far.