So much for
Wenzel's story, by way of explaining what followed; but as I stood
beside him that night at the hut's single crevice of a window, I could
have given Poland itself for ammunition enough to do service on the
wolves. They had now left nothing but the bones of our horses, which
they had dragged round and round the cottage, with a din of howlings
that almost drowned our voices within. Then they seized on the bodies
of their own slain companions, which were devoured to the very skins;
and still the gathering was going on. We could see them coming in
troops through the open glades of the forest, as if aware that some
human prey was in reserve. The hut was strongly built of great
pine-logs, but it was fearful to hear them tearing at the door and
scratching up the foundations. The bravest among us got terrified at
these sounds. Metski loudly avowed his belief that the wolves were
sent upon us as a punishment for hunting on Christmas-eve, and fell
instantly to his prayers. Wenzel flung a blazing brand among them from
the window, but they did not seem to care for fire; and three of them
were so near leaping in, that he drove to the log-shutter and gave up
that method of defence.
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