Ten
minutes later the team swung down over the hill and back to the
komatik. From a distance the men saw them and also turned back, but
to their astonishment they counted not the eight dogs that composed
their team, but thirteen. On drawing nearer they realized that five
great wolves had joined the dogs.
The men's guns were lashed on the komatik, and both were, therefore,
unarmed, and before they could reach the komatik and unlash the rifles
the wolves had fled over the hill and out of range. The dogs, however,
answered the driver's call and were captured.
One winter evening a few years ago I drove my dog team to the isolated
cabin of Tom Broomfield, a trapper of the coast, where I was to spend
the night. When our dogs were fed and we had eaten our own supper, Tom
went to a chest and drew forth a huge wolf skin, which he held up for
my inspection.
"He's a big un, now! A wonderful big un!" he commented. "Most big
enough all by hisself for a man's sleepin' bag!"
"It's a monster!" I exclaimed. "Where did you kill it?"
"Right here handy t' th' door," he grinned.
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