When he reached the tree he crouched, or rather fell, on the ground within a yard of Jonathan and his dog.
He quivered and twitched; his nostrils flared; at every pant drops of blood flecked the snow; his great dark eyes had a strained and awful look, almost human in its agony.
Another yelp from the thicket and Jonathan looked up in time to see five timber wolves, gaunt, hungry looking beasts, burst from the bushes.

With their noses close to the snow they followed the trail.
When they came to the spot where the deer had fallen a chorus of angry, thirsty howls filled the air.
"Well, if this doesn't beat me! I thought I knew a little about deer," said Jonathan.

"Tige, we will save this buck from those gray devils if it costs a leg.

Steady now, old fellow, wait." When the wolves were within fifty yards of the tree and coming swiftly Jonathan threw his rifle forward and yelled with all the power of his strong lungs: "Hi! Hi! Hi! Take 'em, Tige!" In trying to stop quickly on the slippery snowcrust the wolves fell all over themselves.

One dropped dead and another fell wounded at the report of Jonathan's rifle.