14 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 
dozen loud reports, and even as he leaped at the 
throat of a dog, Swiftfoot saw Whitefang rolling 
over on the snow, and another wolf half leap into 
the air and tumble back with blood spouting from 
its mouth. But he kept on and had his teeth in 
the woolly throat of a dog, harnessed and unable 
to fight, while the air resounded with snarls, 
barks, cries, and the terrible, loud explosions. 
Suddenly something stung Swiftfoot in the tail, 
near the base, the pain infuriating him. It 
couldn’t have been the dog he had by the throat. 
He let go his hold to turn on his new adversary, 
and at the same instant something hit him on the 
head—a shining black stick swung by one of the 
two-legged creatures. He fell down unconscious. 
When he came to he was conscious of the smell 
of blood, wolf blood. Staggering up, he looked 
about. 'The snow was stained where he himself 
had Jain; and his tail ached and was clotted with 
frozen blood. He sat down again and licked the 
wound. The bullet, a small automatic pistol ball, 
fortunately for him had only entered the tail 
(where it was still lodged, as a matter of fact), 
and had not injured the muscles of his hind quar- 
