The Adventures of Kathlyn

Kathlyn had to go down to the very bottom of the ravine. She must

follow the goat path, no matter where it wound, for this ultimately

would lead her to the rest house. As she started up the final incline,

through the cedars and pines, she heard the bark of the wolf, the red

wolf who hunted in packs of twenty or thirty, in reality far more

menacing than a tiger or a panther, since no hunter could kill a whole

pack.

To this wolf, when hunting his kill, the tiger gave wide berth; the

bear took to his cave, and all fleet-footed things of the jungles fled

in panic.

Kathlyn climbed as rapidly as she could. She dared not mount a tree,

for the red wolf would outwit her. She must go on. The bark, or yelp,

had been a signal; but now there came to her ears the long howl. She

had heard it often in the great forests at home. It was the call of

the pack that there was to be a kill. She might shoot half a dozen of

them, and the living rend the dead, but the main pack would follow on

and overtake her.

She swung on upward, catching a sapling here, a limb there, pulling

herself over hard bits of going. Once she turned and fired a chance

shot in the direction of the howling. Far away came the roar of one of

the mountain lions; and the pack of red wolves became suddenly and

magically silent. Kathlyn made good use of this interval. But

presently the pack raised its howl again, and she knew that the grim

struggle was about to begin.

She reached the door of the rest house just as the pack, a large one,

came into view, heads down, tails streaming. Pundita, who was at the

fire preparing the noon meal, seized Kathlyn by the arm and hurried her

into the house, barricading the door. The wolves, arriving, flung

themselves against it savagely. But the door was stout, and only a

battering-ram in human hands could have made it yield.

Unfortunately, there was no knowing when the men-folk would return from

their chase of the horses, nor how long the wolves would lay siege.

The two women tried shooting, though Pundita was the veriest tyro,

being more frightened at the weapon in her hands than at the howling

animals outside. They did little or no damage to the wolves, for the

available cracks were not at sufficiently good angles. An hour went

by, Kathlyn could hear the wolves as they crowded against the door,

sniffing the sill.

The colonel, Bruce, Ramabai and Ahmed had found the horses half a dozen

miles away; and they had thrashed the thieving natives soundly and

instilled the right kind of fear in their breasts. At rifle point they

had forced the natives back to the rest house. The crack of their

rifles soon announced to Kathlyn that the dread of wolves was a thing

of the past. She wisely refrained from recounting her experiences.

The men had worry enough.