Part 12 (2/2)

”And here comes his successor,” whispered Albert. ”I suppose, d.i.c.k, we might call this an arithmetical or geometrical progression.”

An enormous timber wolf stalked into the clear s.p.a.ce. He bore no resemblance to the mean, sneaking little coyote of the prairie.

As he stood upright his white teeth could be seen, and there was the slaver of hunger on his lips. He, too, was restive, watchful, and suspicious, but it did not seem to either d.i.c.k or Albert that his movements betokened fear. There was strength in his long, lean body, and ferocity in his little red eyes.

”What a hideous brute!” whispered Albert, shuddering.

”And as wicked as he is ugly,” replied d.i.c.k. ”I hate the sight of these timber wolves. I don't wonder that the wild cat made himself scarce so quickly.”

”And he's surely hungry!” said Albert. ”See how he stretches out his head toward our Annex, as if he would devour everything inside it!”

Albert was right. The big wolf was hungry, hungry through and through, and the odor that came from the tree was exquisite and permeating; it was a mingled odor of many things and everything was good. He had never before known a tree to give forth such a delightful aroma and he thrilled in every wolfish fiber as it tickled his nostrils.

He approached the tree with all the caution of his cautious and crafty race, and, as he laid his nose upon the bark, that mingled aroma of many things good grew so keen and powerful that he came as near as a big wolf can to fainting with delight. He pushed at the places where the door fitted into the tree, but nothing yielded. Those keen and powerful odors that penetrated delightfully to every marrow of him were still there, but he could not reach their source. A certain disappointment, a vague fear of failure mingled with his antic.i.p.ation, and as the wolverine and the wild cat had done, he moved uneasily around the tree, scratching at the bark, and now and then biting it with teeth that were very long and cruel.

His troubled circuit brought him back to the door, where the aroma was finest and strongest. There he tore at the lowest bar with tooth and claw, but it did not move. He had the aroma and nothing more, and no big, strong wolf can live on odors only.

The vague disappointment grew into a positive rage. He felt instinctively that he could not reach the good things that the wonderful tree held within itself, but he persisted. He bent his back, uttered a growl of wrath just as a man swears, and fell to again with tooth and claw.

”If I didn't know that door was so very strong, I'd be afraid he'd get it,” whispered Albert.

”Never fear,” d.i.c.k whispered back with confidence.

The big wolf suddenly paused in his effort. Tooth and claw were still, and he crouched hard against the tree, as if he would have his body to blend with its shadow. A new odor had come to his nostrils. It did not come from the tree. Nor was it pleasant.

Instead, it told him of something hostile and powerful. He was big and strong himself, but this that came was bigger and stronger. The growl that had risen in his throat stopped at his teeth. A chill ran down his backbone and the hair upon it stood up. The great wolf was afraid, and he knew he was afraid.

”Look!” whispered Albert in rising excitement. ”The wolf, too, is stealing away! He is scared by something!”

”And good cause he has to be scared,” said d.i.c.k. ”See what's coming!”

A great tawny beast stood for a moment at the edge of the clearing. He was crouched low against the ground, but his body was long and powerful, with ma.s.sive shoulders and fore arms. His eyes were yellow in the moonlight, and they stared straight at the Annex. The big wolf took one hasty frightened look and then fled silently in the other direction. He knew now that the treasures of the Annex were not for him.

”It's a cougar,” whispered d.i.c.k, ”and it must be the king of them all. Did you ever see such a whopper?”

The cougar came farther into the clearing. He was of great size, but he was a cat--a huge cat, but a cat, nevertheless--and like a cat he acted. He dragged his body along the earth, and his eyes, now yellow, now green, in the moonlight, were swung suspiciously from side to side. He felt all that the wolf had felt, but he was even more cunning and his approach was slower.

It was his habit to spring when close enough, but he saw nothing to spring at except a tree trunk, and so he still crept forward on noiseless pads.

”Now, what will Mr. Cougar do?” asked Albert.

”Just what the others have done,” replied d.i.c.k. ”He will scratch and bite harder because he is bigger and stronger, but we've fixed our Annex for just such attacks. It will keep him out.”

d.i.c.k was right. The cougar or mountain lion behaved exactly as the others had done. He tore at the door, then he circled the tree two or three times, hunting in vain for an opening. Every vein in him was swollen with rage, and the yellowish-green eyes flared with anger.

”He'd be an ugly creature to meet just now,” whispered d.i.c.k.

”He's so mad that I believe he'd attack an elephant.”

”He's certainly in no good humor,” replied d.i.c.k. ”But look, Al!

See his tail drop between his legs! Now what under the moon is about to happen?”

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