He grabbed an axe from the toboggan and had time to gain the rock and
take a stand with his back against it.
As the animals rushed upon the half breed he swung the axe and split
the head of one. This temporarily repulsed them. He held them at bay
for a time, swinging his axe at every attempted approach. They formed
themselves into a half circle just beyond his reach, snapping and
snarling at him and showing their ugly fangs. Another big gray
creature, bolder than the rest, made a rush, but the swinging axe
split its head, just as it had the others. They retreated a few
paces, but they were not to be kept back for long. Micmac John knew
that his end had come. His face was drawn and terrified, and in spite
of the fearful cold and biting frost, perspiration stood out upon his
forehead.
It was broad daylight now. Another wolf attacked from the front and
fell under the axe. A little longer they parleyed. They were gradually
growing more bold and narrowing the circle--coming so close that they
were almost within reach of the swinging weapon. Finally a wolf on the
right, and one on the left, charged at the same time, and in an
instant those in front, as though acting upon a prearranged signal,
closed in, and the pack became one snarling, fighting, clamouring
mass.
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