His two friends were down, and a confused mass of struggling bodies alone showed where they had fallen.

For an instant he hesitated, debating whether he should leap down and strive to rescue them; but a glance below showed him that he would be pulled down long before he could reach the spot where they had fallen.
Shifting himself along the arm until he reached the trunk, he rose to his feet and sent his arrows vengefully into the midst of the struggling mass of wolves until he had but three or four shafts left.

These he reserved as a last resource.
There was nothing to do now, and he sat down on the branch, and burst into tears over the fate of his comrades.

When he looked up again all was quiet.

The fierce pack had devoured not only his comrades, but their own fallen companions, and now sat in a circle with their red tongues hanging out and their eyes fixed upon him.