3 Among the Wolves Read Online Free Page B

hundred yards away, picked up a large stick, chewed it, then tossed it in the air. Charlie, sensing there was no danger, sat on his haunches and watched quietly.

    We were downwind and shielded by trees. Not daring to move lest we attract the bears’ attention, we at first sat motionless. Then I slowly lifted my camera from its resting place at my side and discreetly photographed the young grizzly as he played. Meanwhile, just in case, Bill reached for his shotgun, which he carried lashed to his pack.
    As we watched, fascinated, the little bear found a larger stick and proceeded to strip the coarse brown bark from its surface until the wood disintegrated. Then he wandered into the stream and caught a small fish, but soon lost interest and dropped it. Splashing his way out onto the low streambank, he gave a gigantic shake and then rolled in the grass to dry, just as piglike grunts came from deep in the forest. The young bear paused, then loped obediently back to his mother, his healthy coat rippling across his shoulders as he moved. Mother and son vanished into the trees.
    Charlie stood, stretched, and lay down to finish his nap. Bill and I leaned against our two trees and began to breathe again, still incredulous that we had witnessed a grizzly bear at play. “The right place at the right time,” I said.
    â€œI wonder where they’ll sleep tonight,” Bill said.
    â€œIn a safe place but away from our camp, I hope.”
    After a brief rest we set out again, stopping only when the mountain shadows once more reached across the valley. We stored our food bags as high as possible in a convenient spruce tree. After dinner we slid into our sleeping bags and dropped promptly off to sleep.
    About midnight, Charlie woke us by jumping to his feet. Ears forward, alert, he was listening to something outside. Bill and I sat up, mirroring Charlie’s silence. Then, with ears tuned to the slightest sound, we eased out of our sleeping bags. Bill again reached for the shotgun. Outside, we could hear paws crossing the mossy ground.

    Bill whispered, “Watch the back door. I’ll go to the front.” We heard a quiet grunt followed by a yip. From the opposite side of the tent came an answering yip.
    Wolves! Now we understood Charlie’s absolute quiet. He knew that wolves had surrounded the tent, and although he was used to wolves in the Arctic, he chose a respectful silence around these strangers.
    More soft, careful footsteps circled us, followed by loud sniffing at the base of the front door, only inches from Bill’s crouched, tense body. Probably one of our visitors was trying to discover the contents of our home.
    Soon the footsteps faded. Charlie slowly relaxed, then lay down, still alert, on my now empty sleeping bag. Eager to investigate, we stepped outside. A full moon glowed in the starry sky, lighting the night and casting long shadows across the nearby spruce forest.
    Deep within the woods, a great hoot pierced the stillness. Then came an answering hoot, followed by quiet. I wondered what these owls were saying to each other.

    Charlie senses wolves close by.
    As Bill and I started back to the tent, a long, richly toned howl surged from the shadows, followed by a higher-pitched howl joined by several other voices. We spun to face the trees as the eerie chorus carried through the treetops and faded away, only to start all over again with another great howl.
    Chills coursed down my spine. At the first howl, Charlie instinctively went to our side. As the howls subsided, he sent a soft woof in reply. We strained to see, but we could only imagine what was out there. A sudden loud hoot from an owl made my
heart race, while Bill visibly jumped. Only Charlie was unperturbed. He wandered off to the tent to once more claim most of my sleeping bag.
    Bill and I watched and listened until we began to shiver, then reluctantly returned to the tent, too excited to sleep. We were reasonably sure these wolves