But whether it was the threshing about of wolves dying in agony, or the fighting of the fortunate ones over those shot, could not be ascertained in the confusion.
Following his example Jones also fired rapidly on the other side of the tepee.

The same inarticulate, silently rustling wrestle succeeded this volley.
"Wait!" cried Rea.

"Be sparin' of cartridges." The dogs strained at their chains and bravely bayed the wolves.

The hunters heaped logs and brush on the fire, which, blazing up, sent a bright light far into the woods.

On the outer edge of that circle moved the white, restless, gliding forms.
"They're more afraid of fire than of us," said Jones.
So it proved.