the outside of the shelter.

It was a moonlight night, and he could see across the lake with ease.
All was quiet saving for the distant hoot of an owl and the occasional
bark of a fox. The wind had gone down and not a tree branch was
stirring.

"What a glorious night for skating," mused the boy. "There must be a
good many out at Fairview, now that the ice is so solid."

He walked around the shelter four times and then came to a halt once
more in front of the lake.

As he did this, he saw some object move across the ice of the lake.
One object was followed by another, and then a third and a fourth.

"Animals of some kind," he thought. "But what?"

He watched the objects for several minutes.

They kept coming closer slowly, stopping every now and then, as if to
deliberate. Then of a sudden, a lonely, mournful howl rent the air.

"Wolves!" he muttered. "They have discovered our camp and are coming
towards it. I wonder what I had better do?"




CHAPTER VIII