Once, twice, and thrice Sholto struck right and left. The rest of the
beasts, seemingly astonished by the sudden flank attack, turned and
fled. Then, pushing off a huge wounded brute which lay gasping out its
life in red jets upon the breast of the fallen man, he dragged James
Douglas back to the tree which had been their fortress and propped him
up against the trunk.
At the same moment a long wailing cry from the forest called the
wolves off. They retreated suddenly, disappearing apparently by magic
into the depths of the forest, leaving their dead in quivering heaps
all about the little bare glade where the unequal fight had been
fought.
Malise the Brawny flung down the wolf whose head had served him with
such deadly effect as a weapon against his brethren. The beast had
long been dead, with a skull smashed in and a neck dislocated by the
sweeping blows it had dealt its kin.
"Sholto! My Lord James!" cried Malise, coming up to them hastily. "How
fares it with you?"
"We are both here," answered his son. "Come and help me with the Lord
James.
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