Yet the unreal and sinister atmosphere that clothed him about was not dispelled in the least, and he could not rid himself of the feeling that in fighting them he was fighting dead and gone warriors.
Nearer and nearer came the great wolf on his right, dragging his body over the ground for all the world like a creeping Indian.

Robert's eyes, become uncommonly keen in the dusk, saw the long fangs, the slavering jaws and the red eyes, and he also saw the spot in the pulsing throat where he intended that the sharp point of his arrow should strike.
"Now!" whispered Tayoga.
Robert fitted the shaft to the string, and deftly throwing his weight into it bent the great bow.

Then he loosed the arrow, and, singing through the air, it buried itself almost to the feather in the big beast's throat, just at the spot that he had chosen.

The strangled howl of despair and death that followed was almost like that of a human being, but Robert did not stop to listen, as with all speed he fitted another arrow to the string and fired at the beast on the left, with equal success, piercing him in the heart.
"Well done, Dagaeoga," whispered Tayoga.

"Two shots and two wolves slain.