He passed his sword through and through the largest, and in its fall the wounded monster turned and bit savagely at the fore leg of a companion.

The bone cracked as a rotten branch snaps underfoot, and in another moment the two animals were rolling over and over, locked together in the death grapple.
Once, twice, and thrice Sholto struck right and left.

The rest of the beasts, seemingly astonished by the sudden flank attack, turned and fled.

Then, pushing off a huge wounded brute which lay gasping out its life in red jets upon the breast of the fallen man, he dragged James Douglas back to the tree which had been their fortress and propped him up against the trunk.
At the same moment a long wailing cry from the forest called the wolves off.

They retreated suddenly, disappearing apparently by magic into the depths of the forest, leaving their dead in quivering heaps all about the little bare glade where the unequal fight had been fought.
Malise the Brawny flung down the wolf whose head had served him with such deadly effect as a weapon against his brethren.