He was learning the country well now, and, with the wonderful
place-memory of a woodman, he was able to follow his exact back
trail. It might not have been the best way, but it gave him this
advantage -- in nearly every case he was able to use again the
raft he had made in coming, and thereby saved many hours of
precious time.
On the way out he had seen a good many deer and one bear, and had
heard the howling of wolves every night; but always at a
distance. On the second night, in the very heart of the
wilderness, the wolves were noisy and seemed very near. Rolf was
camping in the darkness. He made a small fire with such stuff as
he could find by groping, then, when the fire blazed, he
discovered by its light a dead spruce some twenty yards away.
Taking his hatchet he went toward this, and, as he did so, a wolf
rose up, with its forefeet on a log, only five yards beyond the
tree and gazed curiously at him. Others were heard calling;
presently this wolf raised its muzzle and uttered a long smooth
howl.
Rolf had left his pistol back at the fire; he dared not throw his
hatchet, as that would have left him unarmed.
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