diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-0.txt | 6397 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-8.txt | 6819 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 138110 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 300092 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-h/001.jpg | bin | 0 -> 42505 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-h/002.jpg | bin | 0 -> 39669 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-h/003.jpg | bin | 0 -> 38018 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-h/004.jpg | bin | 0 -> 38820 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084-h/10084-h.htm | 6858 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084.txt | 6819 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 10084.zip | bin | 0 -> 138082 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084-8.txt | 6819 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 138110 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 300092 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084-h/001.jpg | bin | 0 -> 42505 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084-h/002.jpg | bin | 0 -> 39669 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084-h/003.jpg | bin | 0 -> 38018 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084-h/004.jpg | bin | 0 -> 38820 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084-h/10084-h.htm | 6858 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084.txt | 6819 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10084.zip | bin | 0 -> 138082 bytes |
24 files changed, 47405 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10084-0.txt b/10084-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f46dbad --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6397 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10084 *** + +[Illustration: He heard Joan's voice] + +KAZAN + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +Author of +The Danger Trail, Etc. + +Illustrated by +Gayle Hoskins and Frank Hoffman + + +1914 + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE MIRACLE + + II. INTO THE NORTH + + III. McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + IV. FREE FROM BONDS + + V. THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + VI. JOAN + + VII. OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + VIII. THE GREAT CHANGE + + IX. THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + X. THE DAYS OF FIRE + + XI. ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + XII. THE RED DEATH + + XIII. THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + XIV. THE RIGHT OF FANG + + XV. A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + XVI. THE CALL + + XVII. HIS SON + +XVIII. THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + XIX. THE USURPERS + + XX. A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + XXI. A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + XXII. SANDY'S METHOD + +XXIII. PROFESSOR McGILL + + XXIV. ALONE IN DARKNESS + + XXV. THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + XXVI. AN EMPTY WORLD + +XXVII. THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MIRACLE + + +Kazan lay mute and motionless, his gray nose between his forepaws, his +eyes half closed. A rock could have appeared scarcely less lifeless than +he; not a muscle twitched; not a hair moved; not an eyelid quivered. Yet +every drop of the wild blood in his splendid body was racing in a +ferment of excitement that Kazan had never before experienced; every +nerve and fiber of his wonderful muscles was tense as steel wire. +Quarter-strain wolf, three-quarters "husky," he had lived the four years +of his life in the wilderness. He had felt the pangs of starvation. He +knew what it meant to freeze. He had listened to the wailing winds of +the long Arctic night over the barrens. He had heard the thunder of the +torrent and the cataract, and had cowered under the mighty crash of the +storm. His throat and sides were scarred by battle, and his eyes were +red with the blister of the snows. He was called Kazan, the Wild Dog, +because he was a giant among his kind and as fearless, even, as the men +who drove him through the perils of a frozen world. + +He had never known fear--until now. He had never felt in him before the +desire to _run_--not even on that terrible day in the forest when he had +fought and killed the big gray lynx. He did not know what it was that +frightened him, but he knew that he was in another world, and that many +things in it startled and alarmed him. It was his first glimpse of +civilization. He wished that his master would come back into the strange +room where he had left him. It was a room filled with hideous things. +There were great human faces on the wall, but they did not move or +speak, but stared at him in a way he had never seen people look before. +He remembered having looked on a master who lay very quiet and very cold +in the snow, and he had sat back on his haunches and wailed forth the +death song; but these people on the walls looked alive, and yet seemed +dead. + +Suddenly Kazan lifted his ears a little. He heard steps, then low +voices. One of them was his master's voice. But the other--it sent a +little tremor through him! Once, so long ago that it must have been in +his puppyhood days, he seemed to have had a dream of a laugh that was +like the girl's laugh--a laugh that was all at once filled with a +wonderful happiness, the thrill of a wonderful love, and a sweetness +that made Kazan lift his head as they came in. He looked straight at +them, his red eyes gleaming. At once he knew that she must be dear to +his master, for his master's arm was about her. In the glow of the light +he saw that her hair was very bright, and that there was the color of +the crimson _bakneesh_ vine in her face and the blue of the _bakneesh_ +flower in her shining eyes. Suddenly she saw him, and with a little cry +darted toward him. + +"Stop!" shouted the man. "He's dangerous! Kazan--" + +She was on her knees beside him, all fluffy and sweet and beautiful, her +eyes shining wonderfully, her hands about to touch him. Should he cringe +back? Should he snap? Was she one of the things on the wall, and his +enemy? Should he leap at her white throat? He saw the man running +forward, pale as death. Then her hand fell upon his head and the touch +sent a thrill through him that quivered in every nerve of his body. With +both hands she turned up his head. Her face was very close, and he heard +her say, almost sobbingly: + +"And you are Kazan--dear old Kazan, my Kazan, my hero dog--who brought +him home to me when all the others had died! My Kazan--my hero!" + +And then, miracle of miracles, her face was crushed down against him, +and he felt her sweet warm touch. + +In those moments Kazan did not move. He scarcely breathed. It seemed a +long time before the girl lifted her face from him. And when she did, +there were tears in her blue eyes, and the man was standing above them, +his hands gripped tight, his jaws set. + +"I never knew him to let any one touch him--with their naked hand," he +said in a tense wondering voice. "Move back quietly, Isobel. Good +heaven--look at that!" + +Kazan whined softly, his bloodshot eyes on the girl's face. He wanted to +feel her hand again; he wanted to touch her face. Would they beat him +with a club, he wondered, if he _dared_! He meant no harm now. He would +kill for her. He cringed toward her, inch by inch, his eyes never +faltering. He heard what the man said--"Good heaven! Look at that!"--and +he shuddered. But no blow fell to drive him back. His cold muzzle +touched her filmy dress, and she looked at him, without moving, her wet +eyes blazing like stars. + +"See!" she whispered. "See!" + +Half an inch more--an inch, two inches, and he gave his big gray body a +hunch toward her. Now his muzzle traveled slowly upward--over her foot, +to her lap, and at last touched the warm little hand that lay there. His +eyes were still on her face: he saw a queer throbbing in her bare white +throat, and then a trembling of her lips as she looked up at the man +with a wonderful look. He, too, knelt down beside them, and put his arm +about the girl again, and patted the dog on his head. Kazan did not like +the man's touch. He mistrusted it, as nature had taught him to mistrust +the touch of all men's hands, but he permitted it because he saw that it +in some way pleased the girl. + +"Kazan, old boy, you wouldn't hurt her, would you?" said his master +softly. "We both love her, don't we, boy? Can't help it, can we? And +she's ours, Kazan, all _ours_! She belongs to you and to me, and we're +going to take care of her all our lives, and if we ever have to we'll +fight for her like hell--won't we? Eh, Kazan, old boy?" + +For a long time after they left him where he was lying on the rug, +Kazan's eyes did not leave the girl. He watched and listened--and all +the time there grew more and more in him the craving to creep up to them +and touch the girl's hand, or her dress, or her foot. After a time his +master said something, and with a little laugh the girl jumped up and +ran to a big, square, shining thing that stood crosswise in a corner, +and which had a row of white teeth longer than his own body. He had +wondered what those teeth were for. The girl's fingers touched them now, +and all the whispering of winds that he had ever heard, all the music of +the waterfalls and the rapids and the trilling of birds in spring-time, +could not equal the sounds they made. It was his first music. For a +moment it startled and frightened him, and then he felt the fright pass +away and a strange tingling in his body. He wanted to sit back on his +haunches and howl, as he had howled at the billion stars in the skies on +cold winter nights. But something kept him from doing that. It was the +girl. Slowly he began slinking toward her. He felt the eyes of the man +upon him, and stopped. Then a little more--inches at a time, with his +throat and jaw straight out along the floor! He was half-way to +her--half-way across the room--when the wonderful sounds grew very soft +and very low. + +"Go on!" he heard the man urge in a low quick voice. "Go on! Don't +stop!" + +The girl turned her head, saw Kazan cringing there on the floor, and +continued to play. The man was still looking, but his eyes could not +keep Kazan back now. He went nearer, still nearer, until at last his +outreaching muzzle touched her dress where it lay piled on the floor. +And then--he lay trembling, for she had begun to sing. He had heard a +Cree woman crooning in front of her tepee; he had heard the wild chant +of the caribou song--but he had never heard anything like this +wonderful sweetness that fell from the lips of the girl. He forgot his +master's presence now. Quietly, cringingly, so that she would not know, +he lifted his head. He saw her looking at him; there was something in +her wonderful eyes that gave him confidence, and he laid his head in her +lap. For the second time he felt the touch of a woman's hand, and he +closed his eyes with a long sighing breath. The music stopped. There +came a little fluttering sound above him, like a laugh and a sob in one. +He heard his master cough. + +"I've always loved the old rascal--but I never thought he'd do that," he +said; and his voice sounded queer to Kazan. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +INTO THE NORTH + + +Wonderful days followed for Kazan. He missed the forests and deep snows. +He missed the daily strife of keeping his team-mates in trace, the +yapping at his heels, the straight long pull over the open spaces and +the barrens. He missed the "Koosh--koosh--Hoo-yah!" of the driver, the +spiteful snap of his twenty-foot caribou-gut whip, and that yelping and +straining behind him that told him he had his followers in line. But +something had come to take the place of that which he missed. It was in +the room, in the air all about him, even when the girl or his master was +not near. Wherever she had been, he found the presence of that strange +thing that took away his loneliness. It was the woman scent, and +sometimes it made him whine softly when the girl herself was actually +with him. He was not lonely, nights, when he should have been out +howling at the stars. He was not lonely, because one night he prowled +about until he found a certain door, and when the girl opened that door +in the morning she found him curled up tight against it. She had reached +down and hugged him, the thick smother of her long hair falling all over +him in a delightful perfume; thereafter she placed a rug before the door +for him to sleep on. All through the long nights he knew that she was +just beyond the door, and he was content. Each day he thought less and +less of the wild places, and more of her. + +Then there came the beginning of the change. There was a strange hurry +and excitement around him, and the girl paid less attention to him. He +grew uneasy. He sniffed the change in the air, and he began to study his +master's face. Then there came the morning, very early, when the babiche +collar and the iron chain were fastened to him again. Not until he had +followed his master out through the door and into the street did he +begin to understand. They were sending him away! He sat suddenly back on +his haunches and refused to budge. + +"Come, Kazan," coaxed the man. "Come on, boy." + +He hung back and showed his white fangs. He expected the lash of a whip +or the blow of a club, but neither came. His master laughed and took him +back to the house. When they left it again, the girl was with them and +walked with her hand touching his head. It was she who persuaded him to +leap up through a big dark hole into the still darker interior of a car, +and it was she who lured him to the darkest corner of all, where his +master fastened his chain. Then they went out, laughing like two +children. For hours after that, Kazan lay still and tense, listening to +the queer rumble of wheels under him. Several times those wheels +stopped, and he heard voices outside. At last he was sure that he heard +a familiar voice, and he strained at his chain and whined. The closed +door slid back. A man with a lantern climbed in, followed by his master. +He paid no attention to them, but glared out through the opening into +the gloom of night. He almost broke loose when he leaped down upon the +white snow, but when he saw no one there, he stood rigid, sniffing the +air. Over him were the stars he had howled at all his life, and about +him were the forests, black and silent, shutting them in like a wall. +Vainly he sought for that one scent that was missing, and Thorpe heard +the low note of grief in his shaggy throat. He took the lantern and held +it above his head, at the same time loosening his hold on the leash. At +that signal there came a voice from out of the night. It came from +behind them, and Kazan whirled so suddenly that the loosely held chain +slipped from the man's hand. He saw the glow of other lanterns. And +then, once more, the voice-- + +"Kaa-aa-zan!" + +He was off like a bolt. Thorpe laughed to himself as he followed. + +"The old pirate!" he chuckled. + +When he came to the lantern-lighted space back of the caboose, Thorpe +found Kazan crouching down at a woman's feet. It was Thorpe's wife. She +smiled triumphantly at him as he came up out of the gloom. + +"You've won!" he laughed, not unhappily. "I'd have wagered my last +dollar he wouldn't do that for any voice on earth. You've won! Kazan, +you brute, I've lost you!" + +His face suddenly sobered as Isobel stooped to pick up the end of the +chain. + +"He's yours, Issy," he added quickly, "but you must let me care for him +until--we _know_. Give me the chain. I won't trust him even now. He's a +wolf. I've seen him take an Indian's hand off at a single snap. I've +seen him tear out another dog's jugular in one leap. He's an outlaw--a +bad dog--in spite of the fact that he hung to me like a hero and brought +me out alive. I can't trust him. Give me the chain--" + +He did not finish. With the snarl of a wild beast Kazan had leaped to +his feet. His lips drew up and bared his long fangs. His spine +stiffened, and with a sudden cry of warning, Thorpe dropped a hand to +the revolver at his belt. + +Kazan paid no attention to him. Another form had approached out of the +night, and stood now in the circle of illumination made by the lanterns. +It was McCready, who was to accompany Thorpe and his young wife back to +the Red River camp, where Thorpe was in charge of the building of the +new Trans-continental. The man was straight, powerfully built and clean +shaven. His jaw was so square that it was brutal, and there was a glow +in his eyes that was almost like the passion in Kazan's as he looked at +Isobel. + +Her red and white stocking-cap had slipped free of her head and was +hanging over her shoulder. The dull blaze of the lanterns shone in the +warm glow of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, suddenly +turned to him, were as blue as the bluest _bakneesh_ flower and glowed +like diamonds. McCready shifted his gaze, and instantly her hand fell on +Kazan's head. For the first time the dog did not seem to feel her touch. +He still snarled at McCready, the rumbling menace in his throat growing +deeper. Thorpe's wife tugged at the chain. + +"Down, Kazan--down!" she commanded. + +At the sound of her voice he relaxed. + +"Down!" she repeated, and her free hand fell on his head again. He slunk +to her feet. But his lips were still drawn back. Thorpe was watching +him. He wondered at the deadly venom that shot from the wolfish eyes, +and looked at McCready. The big guide had uncoiled his long dog-whip. A +strange look had come into his face. He was staring hard at Kazan. +Suddenly he leaned forward, with both hands on his knees, and for a +tense moment or two he seemed to forget that Isobel Thorpe's wonderful +blue eyes were looking at him. + +"Hoo-koosh, Pedro--_charge_!" + +That one word--_charge_--was taught only to the dogs in the service of +the Northwest Mounted Police. Kazan did not move. McCready straightened, +and quick as a shot sent the long lash of his whip curling out into the +night with a crack like a pistol report. + +"Charge, Pedro--_charge_!" + +The rumble in Kazan's throat deepened to a snarling growl, but not a +muscle of his body moved. McCready turned to Thorpe. + +"I could have sworn that I knew that dog," he said. "If it's Pedro, he's +_bad_!" + +Thorpe was taking the chain. Only the girl saw the look that came for an +instant into McCready's face. It made her shiver. A few minutes before, +when the train had first stopped at Les Pas, she had offered her hand +to this man and she had seen the same thing then. But even as she +shuddered she recalled the many things her husband had told her of the +forest people. She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough +manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and +suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of +fear and dislike. + +"He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make +friends with him?" + +She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain. +McCready came to her side as she bent over the dog. His back was to +Thorpe as he hunched down. Isobel's bowed head was within a foot of his +face. He could see the glow in her cheek and the pouting curve of her +mouth as she quieted the low rumbling in Kazan's throat. Thorpe stood +ready to pull back on the chain, but for a moment McCready was between +him and his wife, and he could not see McCready's face. The man's eyes +were not on Kazan. He was staring at the girl. + +"You're brave," he said. "I don't dare do that. He would take off my +hand!" + +He took the lantern from Thorpe and led the way to a narrow snow-path +branching off, from the track. Hidden back in the thick spruce was the +camp that Thorpe had left a fortnight before. There were two tents there +now in place of the one that he and his guide had used. A big fire was +burning in front of them. Close to the fire was a long sledge, and +fastened to trees just within the outer circle of firelight Kazan saw +the shadowy forms and gleaming eyes of his team-mates. He stood stiff +and motionless while Thorpe fastened him to a sledge. Once more he was +back in his forests--and in command. His mistress was laughing and +clapping her hands delightedly in the excitement of the strange and +wonderful life of which she had now become a part. Thorpe had thrown +back the flap of their tent, and she was entering ahead of him. She did +not look back. She spoke no word to him. He whined, and turned his red +eyes on McCready. + +In the tent Thorpe was saying: + +"I'm sorry old Jackpine wouldn't go back with us, Issy. He drove me +down, but for love or money I couldn't get him to return. He's a Mission +Indian, and I'd give a month's salary to have you see him handle the +dogs. I'm not sure about this man McCready. He's a queer chap, the +Company's agent here tells me, and knows the woods like a book. But dogs +don't like a stranger. Kazan isn't going to take to him worth a cent!" + +Kazan heard the girl's voice, and stood rigid and motionless listening +to it. He did not hear or see McCready when he came up stealthily behind +him. The man's voice came as suddenly as a shot at his heels. + +"_Pedro_!" + +In an instant Kazan cringed as if touched by a lash. + +"Got you that time--didn't I, you old devil!" whispered McCready, his +face strangely pale in the firelight. "Changed your name, eh? But I +_got_ you--didn't I?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + +For a long time after he had uttered those words McCready sat in silence +beside the fire. Only for a moment or two at a time did his eyes leave +Kazan. After a little, when he was sure that Thorpe and Isobel had +retired for the night, he went into his own tent and returned with a +flask of whisky. During the next half-hour he drank frequently. Then he +went over and sat on the end of the sledge, just beyond the reach of +Kazan's chain. + +"Got you, didn't I?" he repeated, the effect of the liquor beginning to +show in the glitter of his eyes. "Wonder who changed your name, Pedro. +And how the devil did _he_ come by you? Ho, ho, if you could only +talk--" + +They heard Thorpe's voice inside the tent. It was followed by a low +girlish peal of laughter, and McCready jerked himself erect. His face +blazed suddenly red, and he rose to his feet, dropping the flask in his +coat pocket. Walking around the fire, he tiptoed cautiously to the +shadow of a tree close to the tent and stood there for many minutes +listening. His eyes burned with a fiery madness when he returned to the +sledge and Kazan. It was midnight before he went into his own tent. + +In the warmth of the fire, Kazan's eyes slowly closed. He slumbered +uneasily, and his brain was filled with troubled pictures. At times he +was fighting, and his jaws snapped. At others he was straining at the +end of his chain, with McCready or his mistress just out of reach. He +felt the gentle touch of the girl's hand again and heard the wonderful +sweetness of her voice as she sang to him and his master, and his body +trembled and twitched with the thrills that had filled him that night. +And then the picture changed. He was running at the head of a splendid +team--six dogs of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police--and his master was +calling him Pedro! The scene shifted. They were in camp. His master was +young and smooth-faced and he helped from the sledge another man whose +hands were fastened in front of him by curious black rings. Again it was +later--and he was lying before a great fire. His master was sitting +opposite him, with his back to a tent, and as he looked, there came out +of the tent the man with the black rings--only now the rings were gone +and his hands were free, and in one of them he carried a heavy club. He +heard the terrible blow of the club as it fell on his master's head--and +the sound of it aroused him from his restless sleep. + +He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. +The fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that +precedes dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready. Again he was +standing close to the tent of his mistress, and he knew now that this +was the man who had worn the black iron rings, and that it was he who +had beaten him with whip and club for many long days after he had killed +his master. McCready heard the menace in his throat and came back +quickly to the fire. He began to whistle and draw the half-burned logs +together, and as the fire blazed up afresh he shouted to awaken Thorp +and Isobel. In a few minutes Thorpe appeared at the tent-flap and his +wife followed him out. Her loose hair rippled in billows of gold about +her shoulders and she sat down on the sledge, close to Kazan, and began +brushing it. McCready came up behind her and fumbled among the packages +on the sledge. As if by accident one of his hands buried itself for an +instant in the rich tresses that flowed down her back. She did not at +first feel the caressing touch of his fingers, and Thorpe's back was +toward them. + +Only Kazan saw the stealthy movement of the hand, the fondling clutch of +the fingers in her hair, and the mad passion burning in the eyes of the +man. Quicker than a lynx, the dog had leaped the length of his chain +across the sledge. McCready sprang back just in time, and as Kazan +reached the end of his chain he was jerked back so that his body struck +sidewise against the girl. Thorpe had turned in time to see the end of +the leap. He believed that Kazan had sprung at Isobel, and in his horror +no word or cry escaped his lips as he dragged her from where she had +half fallen over the sledge. He saw that she was not hurt, and he +reached for his revolver. It was in his holster in the tent. At his feet +was McCready's whip, and in the passion of the moment he seized it and +sprang upon Kazan. The dog crouched in the snow. He made no move to +escape or to attack. Only once in his life could he remember having +received a beating like that which Thorpe inflicted upon him now. But +not a whimper or a growl escaped him. + +[Illustration: "Not another blow!"] + +And then, suddenly, his mistress ran forward and caught the whip poised +above Thorpe's head. + +"Not another blow!" she cried, and something in her voice held him from +striking. McCready did not hear what she said then, but a strange look +came into Thorpe's eyes, and without a word he followed his wife into +their tent. + +"Kazan did not leap at me," she whispered, and she was trembling with a +sudden excitement. Her face was deathly white. "That man was behind me," +she went on, clutching her husband by the arm. "I felt him touch me--and +then Kazan sprang. He wouldn't bite _me_. It's the _man_! There's +something--wrong--" + +She was almost sobbing, and Thorpe drew her close in his arms. + +"I hadn't thought before--but it's strange," he said. "Didn't McCready +say something about knowing the dog? It's possible. Perhaps he's had +Kazan before and abused him in a way that the dog has not forgotten. +To-morrow I'll find out. But until I know--will you promise to keep away +from Kazan?" + +Isobel gave the promise. When they came out from the tent Kazan lifted +his great head. The stinging lash had closed one of his eyes and his +mouth was dripping blood. Isobel gave a low sob, but did not go near +him. Half blinded, he knew that his mistress had stopped his punishment, +and he whined softly, and wagged his thick tail in the snow. + +Never had he felt so miserable as through the long hard hours of the day +that followed, when he broke the trail for his team-mates into the +North. One of his eyes was closed and filled with stinging fire, and his +body was sore from the blows of the caribou lash. But it was not +physical pain that gave the sullen droop to his head and robbed his body +of that keen quick alertness of the lead-dog--the commander of his +mates. It was his spirit. For the first time in his life, it was broken. +McCready had beaten him--long ago; his master had beaten him; and +during all this day their voices were fierce and vengeful in his ears. +But it was his mistress who hurt him most. She held aloof from him, +always beyond they reach of his leash; and when they stopped to rest, +and again in camp, she looked at him with strange and wondering eyes, +and did not speak. She, too, was ready to beat him. He believed that, +and so slunk away from her and crouched on his belly in the snow. With +him, a broken spirit meant a broken heart, and that night he lurked in +one of the deepest shadows about the camp-fire and grieved alone. None +knew that it was grief--unless it was the girl. She did not move toward +him. She did not speak to him. But she watched him closely--and studied +him hardest when he was looking at McCready. + +Later, after Thorpe and his wife had gone into their tent, it began to +snow, and the effect of the snow upon McCready puzzled Kazan. The man +was restless, and he drank frequently from the flask that he had used +the night before. In the firelight his face grew redder and redder, and +Kazan could see the strange gleam of his teeth as he gazed at the tent +in which his mistress was sleeping. Again and again he went close to +that tent, and listened. Twice he heard movement. The last time, it was +the sound of Thorpe's deep breathing. McCready hurried back to the fire +and turned his face straight up to the sky. The snow was falling so +thickly that when he lowered his face he blinked and wiped his eyes. +Then he went out into the gloom and bent low over the trail they had +made a few hours before. It was almost obliterated by the falling snow. +Another hour and there would be no trail--nothing the next day to tell +whoever might pass that they had come this way. By morning it would +cover everything, even the fire, if he allowed it to die down. McCready +drank again, out in the darkness. Low words of an insane joy burst from +his lips. His head was hot with a drunken fire. His heart beat madly, +but scarcely more furiously than did Kazan's when the dog saw that +McCready was returning _with a club_! The club he placed on end against +a tree. Then he took a lantern from the sledge and lighted it. He +approached Thorpe's tent-flap, the lantern in his hand. + +"Ho, Thorpe--Thorpe!" he called. + +There was no answer. He could hear Thorpe breathing. He drew the flap +aside a little, and raised his voice. + +"Thorpe!" + +Still there was no movement inside, and he untied the flap strings and +thrust in his lantern. The light flashed on Isobel's golden head, and +McCready stared at it, his eyes burning like red coals, until he saw +that Thorpe was awakening. Quickly he dropped the flap and rustled it +from the outside. + +"Ho, Thorpe!--Thorpe!" he called again. + +This time Thorpe replied. + +"Hello, McCready--is that you?" + +McCready drew the flap back a little, and spoke in a low voice. + +"Yes. Can you come out a minute? Something's happening out in the woods. +Don't wake up your wife!" + +He drew back and waited. A minute later Thorpe came quietly out of the +tent. McCready pointed into the thick spruce. + +"I'll swear there's some one nosing around the camp," he said. "I'm +certain that I saw a man out there a few minutes ago, when I went for a +log. It's a good night for stealing dogs. Here--you take the lantern! If +I wasn't clean fooled, we'll find a trail in the snow." + +He gave Thorpe the lantern and picked up the heavy club. A growl rose in +Kazan's throat, but he choked it back. He wanted to snarl forth his +warning, to leap at the end of his leash, but he knew that if he did +that, they would return and beat him. So he lay still, trembling and +shivering, and whining softly. He watched them until they +disappeared--and then waited--listened. At last he heard the crunch of +snow. He was not surprised to see McCready come back alone. He had +expected him to return alone. For he knew what a club meant! + +McCready's face was terrible now. It was like a beast's. He was hatless. +Kazan slunk deeper in his shadow at the low horrible laugh that fell +from his lips--for the man still held the club. In a moment he dropped +that, and approached the tent. He drew back the flap and peered in. +Thorpe's wife was sleeping, and as quietly as a cat he entered and hung +the lantern on a nail in the tent-pole. His movement did not awaken her, +and for a few moments he stood there, staring--staring. + +Outside, crouching in the deep shadow, Kazan tried to fathom the meaning +of these strange things that were happening. Why had his master and +McCready gone out into the forest? Why had not his master returned? It +was his master, and not McCready, who belonged in that tent. Then why +was McCready there? He watched McCready as he entered, and suddenly the +dog was on his feet, his back tense and bristling, his limbs rigid. He +saw McCready's huge shadow on the canvas, and a moment later there came +a strange piercing cry. In the wild terror of that cry he recognized +_her_ voice--and he leaped toward the tent. The leash stopped him, +choking the snarl in his throat. He saw the shadows struggling now, and +there came cry after cry. She was calling to his master, and with his +master's name she was calling _him_! + +"_Kazan_--_Kazan_--" + +He leaped again, and was thrown upon his back. A second and a third +time he sprang the length of the leash into the night, and the babiche +cord about his neck cut into his flesh like a knife. He stopped for an +instant, gasping for breath. The shadows were still fighting. Now they +were upright! Now they were crumpling down! With a fierce snarl he flung +his whole weight once more at the end of the chain. There was a snap, as +the thong about his neck gave way. + +In half a dozen bounds Kazan made the tent and rushed under the flap. +With a snarl he was at McCready's throat. The first snap of his powerful +jaws was death, but he did not know that. He knew only that his mistress +was there, and that he was fighting for her. There came one choking +gasping cry that ended with a terrible sob; it was McCready. The man +sank from his knees upon his back, and Kazan thrust his fangs deeper +into his enemy's throat; he felt the warm blood. + +The dog's mistress was calling to him now. She was pulling at his shaggy +neck. But he would not loose his hold--not for a long time. When he did, +his mistress looked down once upon the man and covered her face with +her hands. Then she sank down upon the blankets. She was very still. Her +face and hands were cold, and Kazan muzzled them tenderly. Her eyes were +closed. He snuggled up close against her, with his ready jaws turned +toward the dead man. Why was she so still, he wondered? + +A long time passed, and then she moved. Her eyes opened. Her hand +touched him. + +Then he heard a step outside. + +It was his master, and with that old thrill of fear--fear of the +club--he went swiftly to the door. Yes, there was his master in the +firelight--and in his hand he held the club. He was coming slowly, +almost falling at each step, and his face was red with blood. But he had +_the club_! He would beat him again--beat him terribly for hurting +McCready; so Kazan slipped quietly under the tent-flap and stole off +into the shadows. From out the gloom of the thick spruce he looked back, +and a low whine of love and grief rose and died softly in his throat. +They would beat him always now--after _that_. Even _she_ would beat him. +They would hunt him down, and beat him when they found him. + +From out of the glow of the fire he turned his wolfish head to the +depths of the forest. There were no clubs or stinging lashes out in that +gloom. They would never find him there. + +For another moment he wavered. And then, as silently as one of the wild +creatures whose blood was partly his, he stole away into the blackness +of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FREE FROM BONDS + + +There was a low moaning of the wind in the spruce-tops as Kazan slunk +off into the blackness and mystery of the forest. For hours he lay near +the camp, his red and blistered eyes gazing steadily at the tent wherein +the terrible thing had happened a little while before. + +He knew now what death was. He could tell it farther than man. He could +smell it in the air. And he knew that there was death all about him, and +that he was the cause of it. He lay on his belly in the deep snow and +shivered, and the three-quarters of him that was dog whined in a +grief-stricken way, while the quarter that was wolf still revealed +itself menacingly in his fangs, and in the vengeful glare of his eyes. + +Three times the man--his master--came out of the tent, and shouted +loudly, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" + +Three times the woman came with him. In the firelight Kazan could see +her shining hair streaming about her, as he had seen it in the tent, +when he had leaped up and killed the other man. In her blue eyes there +was the same wild terror, and her face was white as the snow. And the +second and third time, she too called, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!"--and all +that part of him that was dog, and not wolf, trembled joyously at the +sound of her voice, and he almost crept in to take his beating. But fear +of the club was the greater, and he held back, hour after hour, until +now it was silent again in the tent, and he could no longer see their +shadows, and the fire was dying down. + +Cautiously he crept out from the thick gloom, working his way on his +belly toward the packed sledge, and what remained of the burned logs. +Beyond that sledge, hidden in the darkness of the trees, was the body of +the man he had killed, covered with a blanket. Thorpe, his master, had +dragged it there. + +He lay down, with his nose to the warm coals and his eyes leveled +between his forepaws, straight at the closed tent-flap. He meant to +keep awake, to watch, to be ready to slink off into the forest at the +first movement there. But a warmth was rising from out of the gray ash +of the fire-bed, and his eyes closed. Twice--three times--he fought +himself back into watchfulness; but the last time his eyes came only +half open, and closed heavily again. + +And now, in his sleep, he whined softly, and the splendid muscles of his +legs and shoulders twitched, and sudden shuddering ripples ran along his +tawny spine. Thorpe, who was in the tent, if he had seen him, would have +known that he was dreaming. And Thorpe's wife, whose golden head lay +close against his breast, and who shuddered and trembled now and then +even as Kazan was doing, would have known what he was dreaming about. + +In his sleep he was leaping again at the end of his chain. His jaws +snapped like castanets of steel,--and the sound awakened him, and he +sprang to his feet, his spine as stiff as a brush, and his snarling +fangs bared like ivory knives. He had awakened just in time. There was +movement in the tent. His master was awake, and if he did not escape-- + +He sped swiftly into the thick spruce, and paused, flat and hidden, with +only his head showing from behind a tree. He knew that his master would +not spare him. Three times Thorpe had beaten him for snapping at +McCready. The last time he would have shot him if the girl had not saved +him. And now he had torn McCready's throat. He had taken the life from +him, and his master would not spare him. Even the woman could not save +him. + +Kazan was sorry that his master had returned, dazed and bleeding, after +he had torn McCready's jugular. Then he would have had her always. She +would have loved him. She did love him. And he would have followed her, +and fought for her always, and died for her when the time came. But +Thorpe had come in from the forest again, and Kazan had slunk away +quickly--for Thorpe meant to him what all men meant to him now: the +club, the whip and the strange things that spat fire and death. And +now-- + +Thorpe had come out from the tent. It was approaching dawn, and in his +hand he held a rifle. A moment later the girl came out, and her hand +caught the man's arm. They looked toward the thing covered by the +blanket. Then she spoke to Thorpe and he suddenly straightened and +threw back his head. + +"H-o-o-o-o--Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" he called. + +A shiver ran through Kazan. The man was trying to inveigle him back. He +had in his hand the thing that killed. + +"Kazan--Kazan--Ka-a-a-a-zan!" he shouted again. + +Kazan sneaked cautiously back from the tree. He knew that distance meant +nothing to the cold thing of death that Thorpe held in his hand. He +turned his head once, and whined softly, and for an instant a great +longing filled his reddened eyes as he saw the last of the girl. + +He knew, now, that he was leaving her forever, and there was an ache in +his heart that had never been there before, a pain that was not of the +club or whip, of cold or hunger, but which was greater than them all, +and which filled him with a desire to throw back his head and cry out +his loneliness to the gray emptiness of the sky. + +Back in the camp the girl's voice quivered. + +"He is gone." + +The man's strong voice choked a little. + +"Yes, he is gone. _He knew_--and I didn't. I'd give--a year of my +life--if I hadn't whipped him yesterday and last night. He won't come +back." + +Isobel Thorpe's hand tightened on his arm. + +"He will!" she cried. "He won't leave me. He loved me, if he was savage +and terrible. And he knows that I love him. He'll come back--" + +"Listen!" + +From deep in the forest there came a long wailing howl, filled with a +plaintive sadness. It was Kazan's farewell to the woman. + +After that cry Kazan sat for a long time on his haunches, sniffing the +new freedom of the air, and watching the deep black pits in the forest +about him, as they faded away before dawn. 'Now and then, since the day +the traders had first bought him and put him into sledge-traces away +over on the Mackenzie, he had often thought of this freedom longingly, +the wolf blood in him urging him to take it. But he had never quite +dared. It thrilled him now. There were no clubs here, no whips, none of +the man-beasts whom he had first learned to distrust, and then to hate. +It was his misfortune--that quarter-strain of wolf; and the clubs, +instead of subduing him, had added to the savagery that was born in him. +Men had been his worst enemies. They had beaten him time and again until +he was almost dead. They called him "bad," and stepped wide of him, and +never missed the chance to snap a whip over his back. His body was +covered with scars they had given him. + +He had never felt kindness, or love, until the first night the woman had +put her warm little hand on his head, and had snuggled her face close +down to his, while Thorpe--her husband--had cried out in horror. He had +almost buried his fangs in her white flesh, but in an instant her gentle +touch, and her sweet voice, had sent through him that wonderful thrill +that was his first knowledge of love. And now it was a man who was +driving him from her, away from the hand that had never held a club or a +whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper into the forest. + +He came to the edge of a swamp as day broke. For a time he had been +filled with a strange uneasiness, and light did not quite dispel it. At +last he was free of men. He could detect nothing that reminded him of +their hated presence in the air. But neither could he smell the presence +of other dogs, of the sledge, the fire, of companionship and food, and +so far back as he could remember they had always been a part of his +life. + +Here it was very quiet. The swamp lay in a hollow between two +ridge-mountains, and the spruce and cedar grew low and thick--so thick +that there was almost no snow under them, and day was like twilight. Two +things he began to miss more than all others--food and company. Both the +wolf and the dog that was in him demanded the first, and that part of +him that was dog longed for the latter. To both desires the wolf blood +that was strong in him rose responsively. It told him that somewhere in +this silent world between the two ridges there was companionship, and +that all he had to do to find it was to sit back on his haunches, and +cry out his loneliness. More than once something trembled in his deep +chest, rose in his throat, and ended there in a whine. It was the wolf +howl, not yet quite born. + +Food came more easily than voice. Toward midday he cornered a big white +rabbit under a log, and killed it. The warm flesh and blood was better +than frozen fish, or tallow and bran, and the feast he had gave him +confidence. That afternoon he chased many rabbits, and killed two more. +Until now, he had never known the delight of pursuing and killing at +will, even though he did not eat all he killed. + +But there was no fight in the rabbits. They died too easily. They were +very sweet and tender to eat, when he was hungry, but the first thrill +of killing them passed away after a time. He wanted something bigger. He +no longer slunk along as if he were afraid, or as if he wanted to remain +hidden. He held his head up. His back bristled. His tail swung free and +bushy, like a wolf's. Every hair in his body quivered with the electric +energy of life and action. He traveled north and west. It was the call +of early days--the days away up on the Mackenzie. The Mackenzie was a +thousand miles away. + +He came upon many trails in the snow that day, and sniffed the scents +left by the hoofs of moose and caribou, and the fur-padded feet of a +lynx. He followed a fox, and the trail led him to a place shut in by +tall spruce, where the snow was beaten down and reddened with blood. +There was an owl's head, feathers, wings and entrails lying here, and he +knew that there were other hunters abroad besides himself. + +Toward evening he came upon tracks in the snow that were very much like +his own. They were quite fresh, and there was a warm scent about them +that made him whine, and filled him again with that desire to fall back +upon his haunches and send forth the wolf-cry. This desire grew stronger +in him as the shadows of night deepened in the forest. He had traveled +all day, but he was not tired. There was something about night, now that +there were no men near, that exhilarated him strangely. The wolf blood +in him ran swifter and swifter. To-night it was clear. The sky was +filled with stars. The moon rose. And at last he settled back in the +snow and turned his head straight up to the spruce-tops, and the wolf +came out of him in a long mournful cry which quivered through the still +night for miles. + +For a long time he sat and listened after that howl. He had found +voice--a voice with a strange new note in it, and it gave him still +greater confidence. He had expected an answer, but none came. He had +traveled in the face of the wind, and as he howled, a bull moose crashed +through the scrub timber ahead of him, his horns rattling against the +trees like the tattoo of a clear birch club as he put distance between +himself and that cry. + +Twice Kazan howled before he went on, and he found joy in the practise +of that new note. He came then to the foot of a rough ridge, and turned +up out of the swamp to the top of it. The stars and the moon were nearer +to him there, and on the other side of the ridge he looked down upon a +great sweeping plain, with a frozen lake glistening in the moonlight, +and a white river leading from it off into timber that was neither so +thick nor so black as that in the swamp. + +And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped. From +far off in the plain there came a cry. It was _his_ cry--the wolf-cry. +His jaws snapped. His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his +throat. He wanted to reply, but some strange instinct urged him not to. +That instinct of the wild was already becoming master of him. In the +air, in the whispering of the spruce-tops, in the moon and the stars +themselves, there breathed a spirit which told him that what he had +heard was the wolf-cry, but that it was not the wolf _call_. + +The other came an hour later, clear and distinct, that same wailing howl +at the beginning--but ending in a staccato of quick sharp yelps that +stirred his blood at once into a fiery excitement that it had never +known before. The same instinct told him that this was the call--the +hunt-cry. It urged him to come quickly. A few moments later it came +again, and this time there was a reply from close down along the foot of +the ridge, and another from so far away that Kazan could scarcely hear +it. The hunt-pack was gathering for the night chase; but Kazan sat quiet +and trembling. + +He was not afraid, but he was not ready to go. The ridge seemed to split +the world for him. Down there it was new, and strange, and without men. +From the other side something seemed pulling him back, and suddenly he +turned his head and gazed back through the moonlit space behind him, and +whined. It was the dog-whine now. The woman was back there. He could +hear her voice. He could feel the touch of her soft hand. He could see +the laughter in her face and eyes, the laughter that had made him warm +and happy. She was calling to him through the forests, and he was torn +between desire to answer that call, and desire to go down into the +plain. For he could also see many men waiting for him with clubs, and he +could hear the cracking of whips, and feel the sting of their lashes. + +For a long time he remained on the top of the ridge that divided his +world. And then, at last, he turned and went down into the plain. + +All that night he kept close to the hunt-pack, but never quite +approached it. This was fortunate for him. He still bore the scent of +traces, and of man. The pack would have torn him into pieces. The first +instinct of the wild is that of self-preservation. It may have been +this, a whisper back through the years of savage forebears, that made +Kazan roll in the snow now and then where the feet of the pack had trod +the thickest. + +That night the pack killed a caribou on the edge of the lake, and +feasted until nearly dawn. Kazan hung in the face of the wind. The smell +of blood and of warm flesh tickled his nostrils, and his sharp ears +could catch the cracking of bones. But the instinct was stronger than +the temptation. + +Not until broad day, when the pack had scattered far and wide over the +plain, did he go boldly to the scene of the kill. He found nothing but +an area of blood-reddened snow, covered with bones, entrails and torn +bits of tough hide. But it was enough, and he rolled in it, and buried +his nose in what was left, and remained all that day close to it, +saturating himself with the scent of it. + +That night, when the moon and the stars came out again, he sat back with +fear and hesitation no longer in him, and announced himself to his new +comrades of the great plain. + +The pack hunted again that night, or else it was a new pack that started +miles to the south, and came up with a doe caribou to the big frozen +lake. The night was almost as clear as day, and from the edge of the +forest Kazan first saw the caribou run out on the lake a third of a mile +away. The pack was about a dozen strong, and had already split into the +fatal horseshoe formation, the two leaders running almost abreast of the +kill, and slowly closing in. + +With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out into the moonlight. He was directly +in the path of the fleeing doe, and bore down upon her with lightning +speed. Two hundred yards away the doe saw him, and swerved to the right, +and the leader on that side met her with open jaws. Kazan was in with +the second leader, and leaped at the doe's soft throat. In a snarling +mass the pack closed in from behind, and the doe went down, with Kazan +half under her body, his fangs sunk deep in her jugular. She lay heavily +on him, but he did not lose his hold. It was his first big kill. His +blood ran like fire. He snarled between his clamped teeth. + +Not until the last quiver had left the body over him did he pull himself +out from under her chest and forelegs. He had killed a rabbit that day +and was not hungry. So he sat back in the snow and waited, while the +ravenous pack tore at the dead doe. After a little he came nearer, nosed +in between two of them, and was nipped for his intrusion. + +As Kazan drew back, still hesitating to mix with his wild brothers, a +big gray form leaped out of the pack and drove straight for his throat. +He had just time to throw his shoulder to the attack, and for a moment +the two rolled over and over in the snow. They were up before the +excitement of sudden battle had drawn the pack from the feast. Slowly +they circled about each other, their white fangs bare, their yellowish +backs bristling like brushes. The fatal ring of wolves drew about the +fighters. + +It was not new to Kazan. A dozen times he had sat in rings like this, +waiting for the final moment. More than once he had fought for his life +within the circle. It was the sledge-dog way of fighting. Unless man +interrupted with a club or a whip it always ended in death. Only one +fighter could come out alive. Sometimes both died. And there was no man +here--only that fatal cordon of waiting white-fanged demons, ready to +leap upon and tear to pieces the first of the fighters who was thrown +upon his side or back. Kazan was a stranger, but he did not fear those +that hemmed him in. The one great law of the pack would compel them to +be fair. + +He kept his eyes only on the big gray leader who had challenged him. +Shoulder to shoulder they continued to circle. Where a few moments +before there had been the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh +there was now silence. Soft-footed and soft-throated mongrel dogs from +the South would have snarled and growled, but Kazan and the wolf were +still, their ears laid forward instead of back, their tails free and +bushy. + +Suddenly the wolf struck in with the swiftness of lightning, and his +jaws came together with the sharpness of steel striking steel. They +missed by an inch. In that same instant Kazan darted in to the side, and +like knives his teeth gashed the wolf's flank. + +They circled again, their eyes growing redder, their lips drawn back +until they seemed to have disappeared. And then Kazan leaped for that +death-grip at the throat--and missed. It was only by an inch again, and +the wolf came back, as he had done, and laid open Kazan's flank so that +the blood ran down his leg and reddened the snow. The burn of that +flank-wound told Kazan that his enemy was old in the game of fighting. +He crouched low, his head straight out, and his throat close to the +snow. It was a trick Kazan had learned in puppyhood--to shield his +throat, and wait. + +Twice the wolf circled about him, and Kazan pivoted slowly, his eyes +half closed. A second time the wolf leaped, and Kazan threw up his +terrible jaws, sure of that fatal grip just in front of the forelegs. +His teeth snapped on empty air. With the nimbleness of a cat the wolf +had gone completely over his back. + +The trick had failed, and with a rumble of the dog-snarl in his throat, +Kazan reached the wolf in a single bound. They met breast to breast. +Their fangs clashed and with the whole weight of his body, Kazan flung +himself against the wolf's shoulders, cleared his jaws, and struck again +for the throat hold. It was another miss--by a hair's breadth--and +before he could recover, the wolf's teeth were buried in the back of +his neck. + +For the first time in his life Kazan felt the terror and the pain of the +death-grip, and with a mighty effort he flung his head a little forward +and snapped blindly. His powerful jaws closed on the wolf's foreleg, +close to the body. There was a cracking of bone and a crunching of +flesh, and the circle of waiting wolves grew tense and alert. One or the +other of the fighters was sure to go down before the holds were broken, +and they but awaited that fatal fall as a signal to leap in to the +death. + +Only the thickness of hair and hide on the back of Kazan's neck, and the +toughness of his muscles, saved him from that terrible fate of the +vanquished. The wolf's teeth sank deep, but not deep enough to reach the +vital spot, and suddenly Kazan put every ounce of strength in his limbs +to the effort, and flung himself up bodily from under his antagonist. +The grip on his neck relaxed, and with another rearing leap he tore +himself free. + +As swift as a whip-lash he whirled on the broken-legged leader of the +pack and with the full rush and weight of his shoulders struck him +fairly in the side. More deadly than the throat-grip had Kazan sometimes +found the lunge when delivered at the right moment. It was deadly now. +The big gray wolf lost his feet, rolled upon his back for an instant, +and the pack rushed in, eager to rend the last of life from the leader +whose power had ceased to exist. + +From out of that gray, snarling, bloody-lipped mass, Kazan drew back, +panting and bleeding. He was weak. There was a curious sickness in his +head. He wanted to lie down in the snow. But the old and infallible +instinct warned him not to betray that weakness. From out of the pack a +slim, lithe, gray she-wolf came up to him, and lay down in the snow +before him, and then rose swiftly and sniffed at his wounds. + +She was young and strong and beautiful, but Kazan did not look at her. +Where the fight had been he was looking, at what little remained of the +old leader. The pack had returned to the feast. He heard again the +cracking of bones and the rending of flesh, and something told him that +hereafter all the wilderness would hear and recognize his voice, and +that when he sat back on his haunches and called to the moon and the +stars, those swift-footed hunters of the big plain would respond to it. +He circled twice about the caribou and the pack, and then trotted off to +the edge of the black spruce forest. + +When he reached the shadows he looked back. Gray Wolf was following him. +She was only a few yards behind. And now she came up to him, a little +timidly, and she, too, looked back to the dark blotch of life out on the +lake. And as she stood there close beside him, Kazan sniffed at +something in the air that was not the scent of blood, nor the perfume of +the balsam and spruce. It was a thing that seemed to come to him from +the clear stars, the cloudless moon, the strange and beautiful quiet of +the night itself. And its presence seemed to be a part of Gray Wolf. + +He looked at her, and he found Gray Wolf's eyes alert and questioning. +She was young--so young that she seemed scarcely to have passed out of +puppyhood. Her body was strong and slim and beautifully shaped. In the +moonlight the hair under her throat and along her back shone sleek and +soft. She whined at the red staring light in Kazan's eyes, and it was +not a puppy's whimper. Kazan moved toward her, and stood with his head +over her back, facing the pack. He felt her trembling against his chest. +He looked at the moon and the stars again, the mystery of Gray Wolf and +of the night throbbing in his blood. + +Not much of his life had been spent at the posts. Most of it had been on +the trail--in the traces--and the spirit of the mating season had only +stirred him from afar. But it was very near now. Gray Wolf lifted her +head. Her soft muzzle touched the wound on his neck, and in the +gentleness of that touch, in the low sound in her throat, Kazan felt and +heard again that wonderful something that had come with the caress of +the woman's hand and the sound of her voice. + +He turned, whining, his back bristling, his head high and defiant of the +wilderness which he faced. Gray Wolf trotted close at his side as they +entered into the gloom of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + +They found shelter that night under thick balsam, and when they lay down +on the soft carpet of needles which the snow had not covered, Gray Wolf +snuggled her warm body close to Kazan and licked his wounds. The day +broke with a velvety fall of snow, so white and thick that they could +not see a dozen leaps ahead of them in the open. It was quite warm, and +so still that the whole world seemed filled with only the flutter and +whisper of the snowflakes. Through this day Kazan and Gray Wolf traveled +side by side. Time and again he turned his head back to the ridge over +which he had come, and Gray Wolf could not understand the strange note +that trembled in his throat. + +In the afternoon they returned to what was left of the caribou doe on +the lake. In the edge of the forest Gray Wolf hung back. She did not yet +know the meaning of poison-baits, deadfalls and traps, but the instinct +of numberless generations was in her veins, and it told her there was +danger in visiting a second time a thing that had grown cold in death. + +Kazan had seen masters work about carcasses that the wolves had left. He +had seen them conceal traps cleverly, and roll little capsules of +strychnine in the fat of the entrails, and once he had put a foreleg in +a trap, and had experienced its sting and pain and deadly grip. But he +did not have Gray Wolf's fear. He urged her to accompany him to the +white hummocks on the ice, and at last she went with him and sank back +restlessly on her haunches, while he dug out the bones and pieces of +flesh that the snow had kept from freezing. But she would not eat, and +at last Kazan went and sat on his haunches at her side, and with her +looked at what he had dug out from under the snow. He sniffed the air. +He could not smell danger, but Gray Wolf told him that it might be +there. + +She told him many other things in the days and nights that followed. The +third night Kazan himself gathered the hunt-pack and led in the chase. +Three times that month, before the moon left the skies, he led the +chase, and each time there was a kill. But as the snows began to grow +softer under his feet he found a greater and greater companionship in +Gray Wolf, and they hunted alone, living on the big white rabbits. In +all the world he had loved but two things, the girl with the shining +hair and the hands that had caressed him--and Gray Wolf. + +He did not leave the big plain, and often He took his mate to the top of +the ridge, and he would try to tell her what he had left back there. +With the dark nights the call of the woman became so strong upon him +that he was filled with a longing to go back, and take Gray Wolf with +him. + +Something happened very soon after that. They were crossing the open +plain one day when up on the face of the ridge Kazan saw something that +made his heart stand still. A man, with a dog-sledge and team, was +coming down into their world. The wind had not warned them, and suddenly +Kazan saw something glisten in the man's hands. He knew what it was. It +was the thing that spat fire and thunder, and killed. + +He gave his warning to Gray Wolf, and they were off like the wind, side +by side. And then came the _sound_--and Kazan's hatred of men burst +forth in a snarl as he leaped. There was a queer humming over their +heads. The sound from behind came again, and this time Gray Wolf gave a +yelp of pain, and rolled over and over in the snow. She was on her feet +again in an instant, and Kazan dropped behind her, and ran there until +they reached the shelter of the timber. Gray Wolf lay down, and began +licking the wound in her shoulder. Kazan faced the ridge. The man was +taking up their trail. He stopped where Gray Wolf had fallen, and +examined the snow. Then he came on. + +Kazan urged Gray Wolf to her feet, and they made for the thick swamp +close to the lake. All that day they kept in the face of the wind, and +when Gray Wolf lay down Kazan stole back over their trail, watching and +sniffing the air. + +For days after that Gray Wolf ran lame, and when once they came upon the +remains of an old camp, Kazan's teeth were bared in snarling hatred of +the man-scent that had been left behind. Growing in him there was a +desire for vengeance--vengeance for his own hurts, and for Gray Wolf's. +He tried to nose out the man-trail under the cover of fresh snow, and +Gray Wolf circled around him anxiously, and tried to lure him deeper +into the forest. At last he followed her sullenly. There was a savage +redness in his eyes. + +Three days later the new moon came. And on the fifth night Kazan struck +a trail. It was fresh--so fresh that he stopped as suddenly as though +struck by a bullet when he ran upon it, and stood with every muscle in +his body quivering, and his hair on end. It was a man-trail. There were +the marks of the sledge, the dogs' feet, and the snow-shoeprints of his +enemy. + +Then he threw up his head to the stars, and from his throat there rolled +out over the wide plains the hunt-cry--the wild and savage call for the +pack. Never had he put the savagery in it that was there to-night. Again +and again he sent forth that call, and then there came an answer and +another and still another, until Gray Wolf herself sat back on her +haunches and added her voice to Kazan's, and far out on the plain a +white and haggard-faced man halted his exhausted dogs to listen, while a +voice said faintly from the sledge: + +"The wolves, father. Are they coming--after us?" + +The man was silent. He was not young. The moon shone in his long white +beard, and added grotesquely to the height of his tall gaunt figure. A +girl had raised her head from a bearskin pillow on the sleigh. Her dark +eyes were filled beautifully with the starlight. She was pale. Her hair +fell in a thick shining braid over her shoulder, and she was hugging +something tightly to her breast. + +"They're on the trail of something--probably a deer," said the man, +looking at the breech of his rifle. "Don't worry, Jo. We'll stop at the +next bit of scrub and see if we can't find enough dry stuff for a +fire.--Wee-ah-h-h-h, boys! Koosh--koosh--" and he snapped his whip over +the backs of his team. + +From the bundle at the girl's breast there came a small wailing cry. And +far back in the plain there answered it the scattered voice of the pack. + +At last Kazan was on the trail of vengeance. He ran slowly at first, +with Gray Wolf close beside him, pausing every three or four hundred +yards to send forth the cry. A gray leaping form joined them from +behind. Another followed. Two came in from the side, and Kazan's +solitary howl gave place to the wild tongue of the pack. Numbers +grew, and with increasing number the pace became swifter. +Four--six--seven--ten--fourteen, by the time the more open and +wind-swept part of the plain was reached. + +It was a strong pack, filled with old and fearless hunters. Gray Wolf +was the youngest, and she kept close to Kazan's shoulders. She could see +nothing of his red-shot eyes and dripping jaws, and would not have +understood if she had seen. But she could _feel_ and she was thrilled by +the spirit of that strange and mysterious savagery that had made Kazan +forget all things but hurt and death. + +The pack made no sound. There was only the panting of breath and the +soft fall of many feet. They ran swiftly and close. And always Kazan was +a leap ahead, with Gray Wolf nosing his shoulder. + +Never had he wanted to kill as he felt the desire in him to kill now. +For the first time he had no fear of man, no fear of the club, of the +whip, or of the thing that blazed forth fire and death. He ran more +swiftly, in order to overtake them and give them battle sooner. All of +the pent-up madness of four years of slavery and abuse at the hands of +men broke loose in thin red streams of fire in his veins, and when at +last he saw a moving blotch far out on the plain ahead of him, the cry +that came out of his throat was one that Gray Wolf did not understand. + +Three hundred yards beyond that moving blotch was the thin line of +timber, and Kazan and his followers bore down swiftly. Half-way to the +timber they were almost upon it, and suddenly it stopped and became a +black and motionless shadow on the snow. From out of it there leaped +that lightning tongue of flame that Kazan had always dreaded, and he +heard the hissing song of the death-bee over his head. He did not mind +it now. He yelped sharply, and the wolves raced in until four of them +were neck-and-neck with him. + +A second flash--and the death-bee drove from breast to tail of a huge +gray fighter close to Gray Wolf. A third--a fourth--a fifth spurt of +that fire from the black shadow, and Kazan himself felt a sudden swift +passing of a red-hot thing along his shoulder, where the man's last +bullet shaved off the hair and stung his flesh. + +Three of the pack had gone down under the fire of the rifle, and half of +the others were swinging to the right and the left. But Kazan drove +straight ahead. Faithfully Gray Wolf followed him. + +The sledge-dogs had been freed from their traces, and before he could +reach the man, whom he saw with his rifle held like a club in his hands, +Kazan was met by the fighting mass of them. He fought like a fiend, and +there was the strength and the fierceness of two mates in the mad +gnashing of Gray Wolf's fangs. Two of the wolves rushed in, and Kazan +heard the terrific, back-breaking thud of the rifle. To him it was the +_club_. He wanted to reach it. He wanted to reach the man who held it, +and he freed himself from the fighting mass of the dogs and sprang to +the sledge. For the first time he saw that there was something human on +the sledge, and in an instant he was upon it. He buried his jaws deep. +They sank in something soft and hairy, and he opened them for another +lunge. And then he heard the voice! It was _her voice_! Every muscle in +his body stood still. He became suddenly like flesh turned to lifeless +stone. + +_Her voice_! The bear rug was thrown back and what had been hidden under +it he saw clearly now in the light of the moon and the stars. In him +instinct worked more swiftly than human brain could have given birth to +reason. It was not _she_. But the voice was the same, and the white +girlish face so close to his own blood-reddened eyes held in it that +same mystery that he had learned to love. And he saw now that which she +was clutching to her breast, and there came from it a strange thrilling +cry--and he knew that here on the sledge he had found not enmity and +death, but that from which he had been driven away in the other world +beyond the ridge. + +In a flash he turned. He snapped at Gray Wolf's flank, and she dropped +away with a startled yelp. It had all happened in a moment, but the man +was almost down. Kazan leaped under his clubbed rifle and drove into the +face of what was left of the pack. His fangs cut like knives. If he had +fought like a demon against the dogs, he fought like ten demons now, and +the man--bleeding and ready to fall--staggered back to the sledge, +marveling at what was happening. For in Gray Wolf there was now the +instinct of matehood, and seeing Kazan tearing and righting the pack she +joined him in the struggle which she could not understand. + +When it was over, Kazan and Gray Wolf were alone out on the plain. The +pack had slunk away into the night, and the same moon and stars that had +given to Kazan the first knowledge of his birthright told him now that +no longer would those wild brothers of the plains respond to his call +when he howled into the sky. + +He was hurt. And Gray Wolf was hurt, but not so badly as Kazan. He was +torn and bleeding. One of his legs was terribly bitten. After a time he +saw a fire in the edge of the forest. The old call was strong upon him. +He wanted to crawl in to it, and feel the girl's hand on his head, as +he had felt that other hand in the world beyond the ridge. He would have +gone--and would have urged Gray Wolf to go with him--but the man was +there. He whined, and Gray Wolf thrust her warm muzzle against his neck. +Something told them both that they were outcasts, that the plains, and +the moon, and the stars were against them now, and they slunk into the +shelter and the gloom of the forest. + +Kazan could not go far. He could still smell the camp when he lay down. +Gray Wolf snuggled close to him. Gently she soothed with her soft tongue +Kazan's bleeding wounds. And Kazan, lifting his head, whined softly to +the stars. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOAN + + +On the edge of the cedar and spruce forest old Pierre Radisson built the +fire. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds, where the fangs of the wolves +had reached to his flesh, and he felt in his breast that old and +terrible pain, of which no one knew the meaning but himself. He dragged +in log after log, piled them on the fire until the flames leaped tip to +the crisping needles of the limbs above, and heaped a supply close at +hand for use later in the night. + +From the sledge Joan watched him, still wild-eyed and fearful, still +trembling. She was holding her baby close to her breast. Her long heavy +hair smothered her shoulders and arms in a dark lustrous veil that +glistened and rippled in the firelight when she moved. Her young face +was scarcely a woman's to-night, though she was a mother. She looked +like a child. + +Old Pierre laughed as he threw down the last armful of fuel, and stood +breathing hard. + +"It was close, _ma cheri_" he panted through his white beard. "We were +nearer to death out there on the plain than we will ever be again, I +hope. But we are comfortable now, and warm. Eh? You are no longer +afraid?" + +He sat down beside his daughter, and gently pulled back the soft fur +that enveloped the bundle she held in her arms. He could see one pink +cheek of baby Joan. The eyes of Joan, the mother, were like stars. + +"It was the baby who saved us," she whispered. "The dogs were being torn +to pieces by the wolves, and I saw them leaping upon you, when one of +them sprang to the sledge. At first I thought it was one of the dogs. +But it was a wolf. He tore once at us, and the bearskin saved us. He was +almost at my throat when baby cried, and then he stood there, his red +eyes a foot from us, and I could have sworn again that he was a dog. In +an instant he turned, and was fighting the wolves. I saw him leap upon +one that was almost at your throat." + +"He _was_ a dog," said old Pierre, holding out his hands to the warmth. +"They often wander away from the posts, and join the wolves. I have had +dogs do that. _Ma cheri_, a dog is a dog all his life. Kicks, abuse, +even the wolves can not change him--for long. He was one of the pack. He +came with them--to kill. But when he found _us_--" + +"He fought for us," breathed the girl. She gave him the bundle, and +stood up, straight and tall and slim in the firelight. "He fought for +us--and he was terribly hurt," she said. "I saw him drag himself away. +Father, if he is out there--dying--" + +Pierre Radisson stood up. He coughed in a shuddering way, trying to +stifle the sound under his beard. The fleck of crimson that came to his +lips with the cough Joan did not see. She had seen nothing of it during +the six days they had been traveling up from the edge of civilization. +Because of that cough, and the stain that came with it, Pierre had made +more than ordinary haste. + +"I have been thinking of that," he said. "He was badly hurt, and I do +not think he went far. Here--take little Joan and sit close to the fire +until I come back." + +The moon and the stars were brilliant in the sky when he went out in the +plain. A short distance from the edge of the timber-line he stood for a +moment upon the spot where the wolves had overtaken them an hour before. +Not one of his four dogs had lived. The snow was red with their blood, +and their bodies lay stiff where they had fallen under the pack. Pierre +shuddered as he looked at them. If the wolves had not turned their first +mad attack upon the dogs, what would have become of himself, Joan and +the baby? He turned away, with another of those hollow coughs that +brought the blood to his lips. + +A few yards to one side he found in the snow the trail of the strange +dog that had come with the wolves, and had turned against them in that +moment when all seemed lost. It was not a clean running trail. It was +more of a furrow in the snow, and Pierre Radisson followed it, expecting +to find the dog dead at the end of it. + +In the sheltered spot to which he had dragged himself in the edge of the +forest Kazan lay for a long time after the fight, alert and watchful. +He felt no very great pain. But he had lost the power to stand upon his +legs. His flanks seemed paralyzed. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, +sniffing the air. They could smell the camp, and Kazan could detect the +two things that were there--_man_ and _woman_. He knew that the girl was +there, where he could see the glow of the firelight through the spruce +and the cedars. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to drag himself close +in to the fire, and take Gray Wolf with him, and listen to her voice, +and feel the touch of her hand. But the man was there, and to him man +had always meant the club, the whip, pain, death. + +Gray Wolf crouched close to his side, and whined softly as she urged +Kazan to flee deeper with her into the forest. At last she understood +that he could not move, and she ran nervously out into the plain, and +back again, until her footprints were thick in the trail she made. The +instincts of matehood were strong in her. It was she who first saw +Pierre Radisson coming over their trail, and she ran swiftly back to +Kazan and gave the warning. + +Then Kazan caught the scent, and he saw the shadowy figure coming +through the starlight. He tried to drag himself back, but he could move +only by inches. The man came rapidly nearer. Kazan caught the glisten of +the rifle in his hand. He heard his hollow cough, and the tread of his +feet in the snow. Gray Wolf crouched shoulder to shoulder with him, +trembling and showing her teeth. When Pierre had approached within fifty +feet of them she slunk back into the deeper shadows of the spruce. + +Kazan's fangs were bared menacingly when Pierre stopped and looked down +at him. With an effort he dragged himself to his feet, but fell back +into the snow again. The man leaned his rifle against a sapling and bent +over him fearlessly. With a fierce growl Kazan snapped at his extended +hands. To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club. He +held out his hand again--cautiously--and spoke in a voice new to Kazan. +The dog snapped again, and growled. + +The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened +hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it. +Again and again the man reached out his hand, and three times Kazan felt +the touch of it, and there was neither threat nor hurt in it. At last +Pierre turned away and went back over the trail. + +When he was out of sight and hearing, Kazan whined, and the crest along +his spine flattened. He looked wistfully toward the glow of the fire. +The man had not hurt him, and the three-quarters of him that was dog +wanted to follow. + +Gray Wolf came back, and stood with stiffly planted forefeet at his +side. She had never been this near to man before, except when the pack +had overtaken the sledge out on the plain. She could not understand. +Every instinct that was in her warned her that he was the most dangerous +of all things, more to be feared than the strongest beasts, the storms, +the floods, cold and starvation. And yet this man had not harmed her +mate. She sniffed at Kazan's back and head, where the mittened hand had +touched. Then she trotted back into the darkness again, for beyond the +edge of the forest she once more saw moving life. + +The man was returning, and with him was the girl. Her voice was soft +and sweet, and there was about her the breath and sweetness of woman. +The man stood prepared, but not threatening. + +"Be careful, Joan," he warned. + +She dropped on her knees in the snow, just out of reach. + +"Come, boy--come!" she said gently. She held out her hand. Kazan's +muscles twitched. He moved an inch--two inches toward her. There was the +old light in her eyes and face now, the love and gentleness he had known +once before, when another woman with shining hair and eyes had come into +his life. "Come!" she whispered as she saw him move, and she bent a +little, reached a little farther with her hand, and at last touched his +head. + +Pierre knelt beside her. He was proffering something, and Kazan smelled +meat. But it was the girl's hand that made him tremble and shiver, and +when she drew back, urging him to follow her, he dragged himself +painfully a foot or two through the snow. Not until then did the girl +see his mangled leg. In an instant she had forgotten all caution, and +was down close at his side. + +"He can't walk," she cried, a sudden tremble in her voice. "Look, _mon +père!_ Here is a terrible cut. We must carry him." + +"I guessed that much," replied Radisson. "For that reason I brought the +blanket. _Mon Dieu_, listen to that!" + +From the darkness of the forest there came a low wailing cry. + +Kazan lifted his head and a trembling whine answered in his throat. It +was Gray Wolf calling to him. + +It was a miracle that Pierre Radisson should put the blanket about +Kazan, and carry him in to the camp, without scratch or bite. It was +this miracle that he achieved, with Joan's arm resting on Kazan's shaggy +neck as she held one end of the blanket. They laid him down close to the +fire, and after a little it was the man again who brought warm water and +washed away the blood from the torn leg, and then put something on it +that was soft and warm and soothing, and finally bound a cloth about it. + +All this Was strange and new to Kazan. Pierre's hand, as well as the +girl's, stroked his head. It was the man who brought him a gruel of meal +and tallow, and urged him to eat, while Joan sat with her chin in her +two hands, looking at the dog, and talking to him. After this, when he +was quite comfortable, and no longer afraid, he heard a strange small +cry from the furry bundle on the sledge that brought his head up with a +jerk. + +Joan saw the movement, and heard the low answering whimper in his +throat. She turned quickly to the bundle, talking and cooing to it as +she took it in her arms, and then she pulled back the bearskin so that +Kazan could see. He had never seen a baby before, and Joan held it out +before him, so that he could look straight at it and see what a +wonderful creature it was. Its little pink face stared steadily at +Kazan. Its tiny fists reached out, and it made queer little sounds at +him, and then suddenly it kicked and screamed with delight and laughed. +At those sounds Kazan's whole body relaxed, and he dragged himself to +the girl's feet. + +"See, he likes the baby!" she cried. "_Mon père_, we must give him a +name. What shall it be?" + +"Wait till morning for that," replied the father. "It is late, Joan. Go +into the tent, and sleep. We have no dogs now, and will travel slowly. +So we must start early." + +With her hand on the tent-flap, Joan, turned. + +"He came with the wolves," she said. "Let us call him Wolf." With one +arm she was holding the little Joan. The other she stretched out to +Kazan. "Wolf! Wolf!" she called softly. + +Kazan's eyes were on her. He knew that she was speaking to him, and he +drew himself a foot toward her. + +"He knows it already!" she cried. "Good night, _mon père_." + +For a long time after she had gone into the tent, old Pierre Radisson +sat on the edge of the sledge, facing the fire, with Kazan at his feet. +Suddenly the silence was broken again by Gray Wolf's lonely howl deep in +the forest. Kazan lifted his head and whined. + +"She's calling for you, boy," said Pierre understandingly. + +He coughed, and clutched a hand to his breast, where the pain seemed +rending him. + +"Frost-bitten lung," he said, speaking straight at Kazan. "Got it early +in the winter, up at Fond du Lac. Hope we'll get home--in time--with the +kids." + +In the loneliness and emptiness of the big northern wilderness one falls +into the habit of talking to one's self. But Kazan's head was alert, and +his eyes watchful, so Pierre spoke to him. + +"We've got to get them home, and there's only you and me to do it," he +said, twisting his beard. Suddenly he clenched his fists. + +His hollow racking cough convulsed him again. + +"Home!" he panted, clutching his chest. "It's eighty miles straight +north--to the Churchill--and I pray to God we'll get there--with the +kids--before my lungs give out." + +He rose to his feet, and staggered a little as he walked. There was a +collar about Kazan's neck, and he chained him to the sledge. After that +he dragged three or four small logs upon the fire, and went quietly into +the tent where Joan and the baby were already asleep. Several times +that night Kazan heard the distant voice of Gray Wolf calling for him, +but something told him that he must not answer it now. Toward dawn Gray +Wolf came close in to the camp, and for the first time Kazan replied to +her. + +His howl awakened the man. He came out of the tent, peered for a few +moments up at the sky, built up the fire, and began to prepare +breakfast. He patted Kazan on the head, and gave him a chunk of meat. +Joan came out a few moments later, leaving the baby asleep in the tent. +She ran up and kissed Pierre, and then dropped down on her knees beside +Kazan, and talked to him almost as he had heard her talk to the baby. +When she jumped up to help her father, Kazan followed her, and when Joan +saw him standing firmly upon his legs she gave a cry of pleasure. + +It was a strange journey that began into the North that day. Pierre +Radisson emptied the sledge of everything but the tent, blankets, food +and the furry nest for baby Joan. Then he harnessed himself in the +traces and dragged the sledge over the snow. He coughed incessantly. + +"It's a cough I've had half the winter," lied Pierre, careful that Joan +saw no sign of blood on his lips or beard. "I'll keep in the cabin for a +week when we get home." + +Even Kazan, with that strange beast knowledge which man, unable to +explain, calls instinct, knew that what he said was not the truth. +Perhaps it was largely because he had heard other men cough like this, +and that for generations his sledge-dog ancestors had heard men cough as +Radisson coughed--and had learned what followed it. + +More than once he had scented death in tepees and cabins, which he had +not entered, and more than once he had sniffed at the mystery of death +that was not quite present, but near--just as he had caught at a +distance the subtle warning of storm and of fire. And that strange thing +seemed to be very near to him now, as he followed at the end of his +chain behind the sledge. It made him restless, and half a dozen times, +when the sledge stopped, he sniffed at the bit of humanity buried in the +bearskin. Each time that he did this Joan was quickly at his side, and +twice she patted his scarred and grizzled head until every drop of +blood in his body leaped riotously with a joy which his body did not +reveal. + +This day the chief thing that he came to understand was that the little +creature on the sledge was very precious to the girl who stroked his +head and talked to him, and that it was very helpless. He learned, too, +that Joan was most delighted, and that her voice was softer and thrilled +him more deeply, when he paid attention to that little, warm, living +thing in the bearskin. + +For a long time after they made camp Pierre Radisson sat beside the +fire. To-night he did not smoke. He stared straight into the flames. +When at last he rose to go into the tent with the girl and the baby, he +bent over Kazan and examined his hurt. + +"You've got to work in the traces to-morrow, boy," he said. "We must +make the river by to-morrow night. If we don't--" + +He did not finish. He was choking back one of those tearing coughs when +the tent-flap dropped behind him. Kazan lay stiff and alert, his eyes +filled with a strange anxiety. He did not like to see Radisson enter the +tent, for stronger than ever there hung that oppressive mystery in the +air about him, and it seemed to be a part of Pierre. + +Three times that night he heard faithful Gray Wolf calling for him deep +in the forest, and each time he answered her. Toward dawn she came in +close to camp. Once he caught the scent of her when she circled around +in the wind, and he tugged and whined at the end of his chain, hoping +that she would come in and lie down at his side. But no sooner had +Radisson moved in the tent than Gray Wolf was gone. The man's face was +thinner, and his eyes were redder this morning. His cough was not so +loud or so rending. It was like a wheeze, as if something had given way +inside, and before the girl came out he clutched his hands often at his +throat. Joan's face whitened when she saw him. Anxiety gave way to fear +in her eyes. Pierre Radisson laughed when she flung her arms about him, +and coughed to prove that what he said was true. + +"You see the cough is not so bad, my Joan," he said. "It is breaking up. +You can not have forgotten, _ma cheri_? It always leaves one red-eyed +and weak." + +It was a cold bleak dark day that followed, and through it Kazan and +the man tugged at the fore of the sledge, with Joan following in the +trail behind. Kazan's wound no longer hurt him. He pulled steadily with +all his splendid strength, and the man never lashed him once, but patted +him with his mittened hand on head and back. The day grew steadily +darker and in the tops of the trees there was the low moaning of a +storm. + +Darkness and the coming of the storm did not drive Pierre Radisson into +camp. "We must reach the river," he said to himself over and over again. +"We must reach the river--we must reach the river--" And he steadily +urged Kazan on to greater effort, while his own strength at the end of +the traces grew less. + +It had begun to storm when Pierre stopped to build a fire at noon. The +snow fell straight down in a white deluge so thick that it hid the tree +trunks fifty yards away. Pierre laughed when Joan shivered and snuggled +close up to him with the baby in her arms. He waited only an hour, and +then fastened Kazan in the traces again, and buckled the straps once +more about his own waist. In the silent gloom that was almost night +Pierre carried his compass in his hand, and at last, late in the +afternoon, they came to a break in the timber-line, and ahead of them +lay a plain, across which Radisson pointed an exultant hand. + +"There's the river, Joan," he said, his voice faint and husky. "We can +camp here now and wait for the storm to pass." + +Under a thick clump of spruce he put up the tent, and then began +gathering fire-wood. Joan helped him. As soon as they had boiled coffee +and eaten a supper of meat and toasted biscuits, Joan went into the tent +and dropped exhausted on her thick bed of balsam boughs, wrapping +herself and the baby up close in the skins and blankets. To-night she +had no word for Kazan. And Pierre was glad that she was too tired to sit +beside the fire and talk. And yet-- + +Kazan's alert eyes saw Pierre start suddenly. He rose from his seat on +the sledge and went to the tent. He drew back the flap and thrust in his +head and shoulders. + +"Asleep, Joan?" he asked. + +"Almost, father. Won't you please come--soon?" + +"After I smoke," he said. "Are you comfortable?" + +"Yes, I'm so tired--and--sleepy--" + +Pierre laughed softly. In the darkness he was gripping at his throat. + +"We're almost home, Joan. That is our river out there--the Little +Beaver. If I should run away and leave you to-night you could follow it +right to our cabin. It's only forty miles. Do you hear?" + +"Yes--I know--" + +"Forty miles--straight down the river. You couldn't lose yourself, Joan. +Only you'd have to be careful of air-holes in the ice." + +"Won't you come to bed, father? You're tired--and almost sick." + +"Yes--after I smoke," he repeated. "Joan, will you keep reminding me +to-morrow of the air-holes? I might forget. You can always tell them, +for the snow and the crust over them are whiter than that on the rest of +the ice, and like a sponge. Will you remember--the airholes--" + +"Yes-s-s-s--" + +Pierre dropped the tent-flap and returned to the fire. He staggered as +he walked. + +"Good night, boy," he said. "Guess I'd better go in with the kids. Two +days more--forty miles--two days--" + +Kazan watched him as he entered the tent. He laid his weight against the +end of his chain until the collar shut off his wind. His legs and back +twitched. In that tent where Radisson had gone were Joan and the baby. +He knew that Pierre would not hurt them, but he knew also that with +Pierre Radisson something terrible and impending was hovering very near +to them. He wanted the man outside--by the fire--where he could lie +still, and watch him. + +In the tent there was silence. Nearer to him than before came Gray +Wolf's cry. Each night she was calling earlier, and coming closer to the +camp. He wanted her very near to him to-night, but he did not even whine +in response. He dared not break that strange silence in the tent. He lay +still for a long time, tired and lame from the day's journey, but +sleepless. The fire burned lower; the wind in the tree-tops died away; +and the thick gray clouds rolled like a massive curtain from under the +skies. The stars began to glow white and metallic, and from far in the +North there came faintly a crisping moaning sound, like steel +sleigh-runners running over frosty snow--the mysterious monotone of the +Northern Lights. After that it grew steadily and swiftly colder. + +To-night Gray Wolf did not compass herself by the direction of the wind. +She followed like a sneaking shadow over the trail Pierre Radisson had +made, and when Kazan heard her again, long after midnight, he lay with, +his head erect, and his body rigid, save for a curious twitching of his +muscles. There was a new note in Gray Wolf's voice, a wailing note in +which there was more than the mate-call. It was The Message. And at the +sound of it Kazan rose from out of his silence and his fear, and with +his head turned straight up to the sky he howled as the wild dogs of the +North howl before the tepees of masters who are newly dead. + +Pierre Radisson was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + +It was dawn when the baby snuggled close to Joan's warm breast and +awakened her with its cry of hunger. She opened her eyes, brushed back +the thick hair from her face, and could see where the shadowy form of +her father was lying at the other side of the tent. He was very quiet, +and she was pleased that he was still sleeping. She knew that the day +before he had been very near to exhaustion, and so for half an hour +longer she lay quiet, cooing softly to the baby Joan. Then she arose +cautiously, tucked the baby in the warm blankets and furs, put on her +heavier garments, and went outside. + +By this time it was broad day, and she breathed a sigh of relief when +she saw that the storm had passed. It was bitterly cold. It seemed to +her that she had never known it to be so cold in all her life. The fire +was completely out. Kazan was huddled in a round ball, his nose tucked +under his body. He raised his head, shivering, as Joan came out. With +her heavily moccasined foot Joan scattered the ashes and charred sticks +where the fire had been. There was not a spark left. In returning to the +tent she stopped for a moment beside Kazan, and patted his shaggy head. + +"Poor Wolf!" she said. "I wish I had given you one of the bearskins!" + +She threw back the tent-flap and entered. For the first time she saw her +father's face in the light--and outside, Kazan heard the terrible +moaning cry that broke from her lips. No one could have looked at Pierre +Radisson's face once--and not have understood. + +After that one agonizing cry, Joan flung herself upon her father's +breast, sobbing so softly that even Kazan's sharp ears heard no sound. +She remained there in her grief until every vital energy of womanhood +and motherhood in her girlish body was roused to action by the wailing +cry of baby Joan. Then she sprang to her feet and ran out through the +tent opening. Kazan tugged at the end of his chain to meet her, but she +saw nothing of him now. The terror of the wilderness is greater than +that of death, and in an instant it had fallen upon Joan. It was not +because of fear for herself. It was the baby. The wailing cries from the +tent pierced her like knife-thrusts. + +And then, all at once, there came to her what old Pierre had said the +night before--his words about the river, the air-holes, the home forty +miles away. "_You couldn't lose yourself, Joan_" He had guessed what +might happen. + +She bundled the baby deep in the furs and returned to the fire-bed. Her +one thought now was that they must have fire. She made a little pile of +birch-bark, covered it with half-burned bits of wood, and went into the +tent for the matches. Pierre Radisson carried them in a water-proof box +in a pocket of his bearskin coat. She sobbed as she kneeled beside him +again, and obtained the box. As the fire flared up she added other bits +of wood, and then some of the larger pieces that Pierre had dragged into +camp. The fire gave her courage. Forty miles--and the river led to their +home! She must make that, with the baby and Wolf. For the first time +she turned to him, and spoke his name as she put her hand on his head. +After that she gave him a chunk of meat which she thawed out over the +fire, and melted the snow for tea. She was not hungry, but she recalled +how her father had made her eat four or five times a day, so she forced +herself to make a breakfast of a biscuit, a shred of meat and as much +hot tea as she could drink. + +The terrible hour she dreaded followed that. She wrapped blankets +closely about her father's body, and tied them with babiche cord. After +that she piled all the furs and blankets that remained on the sledge +close to the fire, and snuggled baby Joan deep down in them. Pulling +down the tent was a task. The ropes were stiff and frozen, and when she +had finished, one of her hands was bleeding. She piled the tent on the +sledge, and then, half, covering her face, turned and looked back. + +Pierre Radisson lay on his balsam bed, with nothing over him now but the +gray sky and the spruce-tops. Kazan stood stiff-legged and sniffed the +air. His spine bristled when Joan went back slowly and kneeled beside +the blanket-wrapped object. When she returned to him her face was white +and tense, and now there was a strange and terrible look in her eyes as +she stared out across the barren. She put him in the traces, and +fastened about her slender waist the strap that Pierre had used. Thus +they struck out for the river, floundering knee-deep in the freshly +fallen and drifted snow. Half-way Joan stumbled in a drift and fell, her +loose hair flying in a shimmering veil over the snow. With a mighty pull +Kazan was at her side, and his cold muzzle touched her face as she drew +herself to her feet. For a moment Joan took his shaggy head between her +two hands. + +"Wolf!" she moaned. "Oh, Wolf!" + +She went on, her breath coming pantingly now, even from her brief +exertion. The snow was not so deep on the ice of the river. But a wind +was rising. It came from the north and east, straight in her face, and +Joan bowed her head as she pulled with Kazan. Half a mile down the river +she stopped, and no longer could she repress the hopelessness that rose +to her lips in a sobbing choking cry. Forty miles! She clutched her +hands at her breast, and stood breathing like one who had been beaten, +her back to the wind. The baby was quiet. Joan went back and peered down +under the furs, and what she saw there spurred her on again almost +fiercely. Twice she stumbled to her knees in the drifts during the next +quarter of a mile. + +After that there was a stretch of wind-swept ice, and Kazan pulled the +sledge alone. Joan walked at his side. There was a pain in her chest. A +thousand needles seemed pricking her face, and suddenly she remembered +the thermometer. She exposed it for a time on the top of the tent. When +she looked at it a few minutes later it was thirty degrees below zero. +Forty miles! And her father had told her that she could make it--and +could not lose herself! But she did not know that even her father would +have been afraid to face the north that day, with the temperature at +thirty below, and a moaning wind bringing the first warning of a +blizzard. + +The timber was far behind her now. Ahead there was nothing but the +pitiless barren, and the timber beyond that was hidden by the gray gloom +of the day. If there had been trees, Joan's heart would not have choked +so with terror. But there was nothing--nothing but that gray ghostly +gloom, with the rim of the sky touching the earth a mile away. + +The snow grew heavy under her feet again. Always she was watching for +those treacherous, frost-coated traps in the ice her father had spoken +of. But she found now that all the ice and snow looked alike to her, and +that there was a growing pain back of her eyes. It was the intense cold. + +The river widened into a small lake, and here the wind struck her in the +face with such force that her weight was taken from the strap, and Kazan +dragged the sledge alone. A few inches of snow impeded her as much as a +foot had done before. Little by little she dropped back. Kazan forged to +her side, every ounce of his magnificent strength in the traces. By the +time they were on the river channel again, Joan was at the back of the +sledge, following in the trail made by Kazan. She was powerless to help +him. She felt more and more the leaden weight of her legs. There was but +one hope--and that was the forest. If they did not reach it soon, within +half an hour, she would be able to go no farther. Over and over again +she moaned a prayer for her baby as she struggled on. She fell in the +snow-drifts. Kazan and the sledge became only a dark blotch to her. And +then, all at once, she saw that they were leaving her. They were not +more than twenty feet ahead of her--but the blotch seemed to be a vast +distance away. Every bit of life and strength in her body was now bent +upon reaching the sledge--and baby Joan. + +It seemed an interminable time before she gained. With the sledge only +six feet ahead of her she struggled for what seemed to her to be an hour +before she could reach out and touch it. With a moan she flung herself +forward, and fell upon it. She no longer heard the wailing of the storm. +She no longer felt discomfort. With her face in the furs under which +baby Joan was buried, there came to her with swiftness and joy a vision +of warmth and home. And then the vision faded away, and was followed by +deep night. + +Kazan stopped in the trail. He came back then and sat down upon his +haunches beside her, waiting for her to move and speak. But she was +very still. He thrust his nose into her loose hair. A whine rose in his +throat, and suddenly he raised his head and sniffed in the face of the +wind. Something came to him with that wind. He muzzled Joan again, hut +she did not stir. Then he went forward, and stood in his traces, ready +for the pull, and looked hack at her. Still she did not move or speak, +and Kazan's whine gave place to a sharp excited bark. + +The strange thing in the wind came to him stronger for a moment. He +began to pull. The sledge-runners had frozen to the snow, and it took +every ounce of his strength to free them. Twice during the next five +minutes he stopped and sniffed the air. The third time that he halted, +in a drift of snow, he returned to Joan's side again, and whined to +awaken her. Then he tugged again at the end of his traces, and foot by +foot he dragged the sledge through the drift. Beyond the drift there was +a stretch of clear ice, and here Kazan rested. During a lull in the wind +the scent came to him stronger than before. + +At the end of the clear ice was a narrow break in the shore, where a +creek ran into the main stream. If Joan had been conscious she would +have urged him straight ahead. But Kazan turned into the break, and for +ten minutes he struggled through the snow without a rest, whining more +and more frequently, until at last the whine broke into a joyous bark. +Ahead of him, close to the creek, was a small cabin. Smoke was rising +out of the chimney. It was the scent of smoke that had come to him in +the wind. A hard level slope reached to the cabin door, and with the +last strength that was in him Kazan dragged his burden up that. Then he +settled himself back beside Joan, lifted his shaggy head to the dark sky +and howled. + +A moment later the door opened. A man came out. Kazan's reddened, +snow-shot eyes followed him watchfully as he ran to the sledge. He heard +his startled exclamation as he bent over Joan. In another lull of the +wind there came from out of the mass of furs on the sledge the wailing, +half-smothered voice of baby Joan. + +A deep sigh of relief heaved up from Kazan's chest. He was exhausted. +His strength was gone. His feet were torn and bleeding. But the voice +of baby Joan filled him with a strange happiness, and he lay down in his +traces, while the man carried Joan and the baby into the life and warmth +of the cabin. + +A few minutes later the man reappeared. He was not old, like Pierre +Radisson. He came close to Kazan, and looked down at him. + +"My God," he said. "And you did that--_alone!_" + +He bent down fearlessly, unfastened him from the traces, and led him +toward the cabin door. Kazan hesitated but once--almost on the +threshold. He turned his head, swift and alert. From out of the moaning +and wailing of the storm it seemed to him that for a moment he had heard +the voice of Gray Wolf. + +Then the cabin door closed behind him. + +Back in a shadowy corner of the cabin he lay, while the man prepared +something over a hot stove for Joan. It was a long time before Joan rose +from the cot on which the man had placed her. After that Kazan heard her +sobbing; and then the man made her eat, and for a time they talked. Then +the stranger hung up a big blanket in front of the bunk, and sat down +close to the stove. Quietly Kazan slipped along the wall, and crept +under the bunk. For a long time he could hear the sobbing breath of the +girl. Then all was still. + +The next morning he slipped out through the door when the man opened it, +and sped swiftly into the forest. Half a mile away he found the trail of +Gray Wolf, and called to her. From the frozen river came her reply, and +he went to her. + +Vainly Gray Wolf tried to lure him back into their old haunts--away from +the cabin and the scent of man. Late that morning the man harnessed his +dogs, and from the fringe of the forest Kazan saw him tuck Joan and the +baby among the furs on the sledge, as old Pierre had done. All that day +he followed in the trail of the team, with Gray Wolf slinking behind +him. They traveled until dark; and then, under the stars and the moon +that had followed the storm, the man still urged on his team. It was +deep in the night when they came to another cabin, and the man beat upon +the door. A light, the opening of the door, the joyous welcome of a +man's voice, Joan's sobbing cry--Kazan heard these from the shadows in +which he was hidden, and then slipped back to Gray Wolf. + +In the days and weeks that followed Joan's home-coming the lure of the +cabin and of the woman's hand held Kazan. As he had tolerated Pierre, so +now he tolerated the younger man who lived with Joan and the baby. He +knew that the man was very dear to Joan, and that the baby was very dear +to him, as it was to the girl. It was not until the third day that Joan +succeeded in coaxing him into the cabin--and that was the day on which +the man returned with the dead and frozen body of Pierre. It was Joan's +husband who first found the name on the collar he wore, and they began +calling him Kazan. + +Half a mile away, at the summit of a huge mass of rock which the Indians +called the Sun Rock, he and Gray Wolf had found a home; and from here +they went down to their hunts on the plain, and often the girl's voice +reached up to them, calling, "_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +Through all the long winter Kazan hovered thus between the lure of Joan +and the cabin--and Gray Wolf. + +Then came Spring--and the Great Change. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE GREAT CHANGE + + +The rocks, the ridges and the valleys were taking on a warmer glow. The +poplar buds were ready to burst. The scent of balsam and of spruce grew +heavier in the air each day, and all through the wilderness, in plain +and forest, there was the rippling murmur of the spring floods finding +their way to Hudson's Bay. In that great bay there was the rumble and +crash of the ice fields thundering down in the early break-up through +the Roes Welcome--the doorway to the Arctic, and for that reason there +still came with the April wind an occasional sharp breath of winter. + +Kazan had sheltered himself against that wind. Not a breath of air +stirred in the sunny spot the wolf-dog had chosen for himself. He was +more comfortable than he had been at any time during the six months of +terrible winter--and as he slept he dreamed. + +Gray Wolf, his wild mate, lay near him, flat on her belly, her forepaws +reaching out, her eyes and nostrils as keen and alert as the smell of +man could make them. For there was that smell of man, as well as of +balsam and spruce, in the warm spring air. She gazed anxiously and +sometimes steadily, at Kazan as he slept. Her own gray spine stiffened +when she saw the tawny hair along Kazan's back bristle at some dream +vision. She whined softly as his upper lip snarled back, showing his +long white fangs. But for the most part Kazan lay quiet, save for the +muscular twitchings of legs, shoulders and muzzle, which always tell +when a dog is dreaming; and as he dreamed there came to the door of the +cabin out on the plain a blue-eyed girl-woman, with a big brown braid +over her shoulder, who called through the cup of her hands, "Kazan, +Kazan, Kazan!" + +The voice reached faintly to the top of the Sun Rock, and Gray Wolf +flattened her ears. Kazan stirred, and in another instant he was awake +and on his feet. He leaped to an outcropping ledge, sniffing the air and +looking far out over the plain that lay below them. + +Over the plain the woman's voice came to them again, and Kazan ran to +the edge of the rock and whined. Gray Wolf stepped softly to his side +and laid her muzzle on his shoulder. She had grown to know what the +Voice meant. Day and night she feared it, more than she feared the scent +or sound of man. + +Since she had given up the pack and her old life for Kazan, the Voice +had become Gray Wolf's greatest enemy, and she hated it. It took Kazan +from her. And wherever it went, Kazan followed. + +Night after night it robbed her of her mate, and left her to wander +alone under the stars and the moon, keeping faithfully to her +loneliness, and never once responding with her own tongue to the +hunt-calls of her wild brothers and sisters in the forests and out on +the plains. Usually she would snarl at the Voice, and sometimes nip +Kazan lightly to show her displeasure. But to-day, as the Voice came a +third time, she slunk back into the darkness of a fissure between two +rocks, and Kazan saw only the fiery glow of her eyes. + +Kazan ran nervously to the trail their feet had worn up to the top of +the Sun Rock, and stood undecided. All day, and yesterday, he had been +uneasy and disturbed. Whatever it was that stirred him seemed to be in +the air, for he could not see it or hear it or scent it. But he could +_feel_ it. He went to the fissure and sniffed at Gray Wolf. Usually she +whined coaxingly. But her response to-day was to draw back her lips +until he could see her white fangs. + +A fourth tune the Voice came to them faintly, and she snapped fiercely +at some unseen thing in the darkness between the two rocks. Kazan went +again to the trail, still hesitating. Then he began to go down. It was a +narrow winding trail, worn only by the pads and claws of animals, for +the Sun Rock was a huge crag that rose almost sheer up for a hundred +feet above the tops of the spruce and balsam, its bald crest catching +the first gleams of the sun in the morning and the last glow of it in +the evening. Gray Wolf had first led Kazan to the security of the +retreat at the top of the rock. + +When he reached the bottom he no longer hesitated, but darted swiftly in +the direction of the cabin. Because of that instinct of the wild that +was still in him, he always approached the cabin with caution. He never +gave warning, and for a moment Joan was startled when she looked up from +her baby and saw Kazan's shaggy head and shoulders in the open door. The +baby struggled and kicked in her delight, and held out her two hands +with cooing cries to Kazan. Joan, too, held out a hand. + +"Kazan!" she cried softly. "Come in, Kazan!" + +Slowly the wild red light in Kazan's eyes softened. He put a forefoot on +the sill, and stood there, while the girl urged him again. Suddenly his +legs seemed to sink a little under him, his tail drooped and he slunk in +with that doggish air of having committed a crime. The creatures he +loved were in the cabin, but the cabin itself he hated. He hated all +cabins, for they all breathed of the club and the whip and bondage. Like +all sledge-dogs he preferred the open snow for a bed, and the +spruce-tops for shelter. + +Joan dropped her hand to his head, and at its touch there thrilled +through him that strange joy that was his reward for leaving Gray Wolf +and the wild. Slowly he raised his head until his black muzzle rested on +her lap, and he closed his eyes while that wonderful little creature +that mystified him so--the baby--prodded him with her tiny feet, and +pulled his tawny hair. He loved these baby-maulings even more than the +touch of Joan's hand. + +Motionless, sphinx-like, undemonstrative in every muscle of his body, +Kazan stood, scarcely breathing. More than once this lack of +demonstration had urged Joan's husband to warn her. But the wolf that +was in Kazan, his wild aloofness, even his mating with Gray Wolf had +made her love him more. She understood, and had faith in him. + +In the days of the last snow Kazan had proved himself. A neighboring +trapper had run over with his team, and the baby Joan had toddled up to +one of the big huskies. There was a fierce snap of jaws, a scream of +horror from Joan, a shout from the men as they leaped toward the pack. +But Kazan was ahead of them all. In a gray streak that traveled with the +speed of a bullet he was at the big husky's throat. When they pulled him +off, the husky was dead. Joan thought of that now, as the baby kicked +and tousled Kazan's head. + +"Good old Kazan," she cried softly, putting her face down close to him. +"We're glad you came, Kazan, for we're going to be alone to-night--baby +and I. Daddy's gone to the post, and you must care for us while he's +away." + +She tickled his nose with the end of her long shining braid. This always +delighted the baby, for in spite of his stoicism Kazan had to sniff and +sometimes to sneeze, and twig his ears. And it pleased him, too. He +loved the sweet scent of Joan's hair. + +"And you'd fight for us, if you had to, wouldn't you?" she went on. Then +she rose quietly. "I must close the door," she said. "I don't want you +to go away again to-day, Kazan. You must stay with us." + +Kazan went off to his corner, and lay down. Just as there had been some +strange thing at the top of the Sun Rock to disturb him that day, so now +there was a mystery that disturbed him in the cabin. He sniffed the air, +trying to fathom its secret. Whatever it was, it seemed to make his +mistress different, too. And she was digging out all sorts of odds and +ends of things about the cabin, and doing them up in packages. Late that +night, before she went to bed, Joan came and snuggled her hand close +down beside him for a few moments. + +"We're going away," she whispered, and there was a curious tremble that +was almost a sob in her voice. "We're going home, Kazan. We're going +away down where his people live--where they have churches, and cities, +and music, and all the beautiful things in the world. And we're going to +take _you_, Kazan!" + +Kazan didn't understand. But he was happy at having the woman so near to +him, and talking to him. At these times he forgot Gray Wolf. The dog +that was in him surged over his quarter-strain of wildness, and the +woman and the baby alone filled his world. But after Joan had gone to +her bed, and all was quiet in the cabin, his old uneasiness returned. He +rose to his feet and moved stealthily about the cabin, sniffing at the +walls, the door and the things his mistress had done into packages. A +low whine rose in his throat. Joan, half asleep, heard it, and murmured: +"Be quiet, Kazan. Go to sleep--go to sleep--" + +Long after that, Kazan stood rigid in the center of the room, listening, +trembling. And faintly he heard, far away, the wailing cry of, Gray +Wolf. But to-night it was not the cry of loneliness. It sent a thrill +through him. He ran to the door, and whined, but Joan was deep in +slumber and did not hear him. Once more he heard the cry, and only once. +Then the night grew still. He crouched down near the door. + +Joan found him there, still watchful, still listening, when she awoke in +the early morning. She came to open the door for him, and in a moment he +was gone. His feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth as he sped in the +direction of the Sun Rock. Across the plain he could see the cap of it +already painted with a golden glow. + +He came to the narrow winding trail, and wormed his way up it swiftly. + +Gray Wolf was not at the top to greet him. But he could smell her, and +the scent of that other thing was strong in the air. His muscles +tightened; his legs grew tense. Deep down in his chest there began the +low rumble of a growl. He knew now what that strange thing was that had +haunted him, and made him uneasy. It was _life_. Something that lived +and breathed had invaded the home which he and Gray Wolf had chosen. He +bared his long fangs, and a snarl of defiance drew back his lips. +Stiff-legged, prepared to spring, his neck and head reaching out, he +approached the two rocks between which Gray Wolf had crept the night +before. She was still there. And with her was _something else_. After a +moment the tenseness left Kazan's body. His bristling crest drooped +until it lay flat. His ears shot forward, and he put his head and +shoulders between the two rocks, and whined softly. And Gray Wolf +whined. Slowly Kazan backed out, and faced the rising sun. Then he lay +down, so that his body shielded I the entrance to the chamber between +the rocks. + +Gray Wolf was a mother. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + +All that day Kazan guarded the top of the Sun Rock. Fate, and the fear +and brutality of masters, had heretofore kept him from fatherhood, and +he was puzzled. Something told him now that he belonged to the Sun Rock, +and not to the cabin. The call that came to him from over the plain was +not so strong. At dusk Gray Wolf came out from her retreat, and slunk to +his side, whimpering, and nipped gently at his shaggy neck. It was the +old instinct of his fathers that made him respond by caressing Gray +Wolf's face with his tongue. Then Gray Wolf's jaws opened, and she +laughed in short panting breaths, as if she had been hard run. She was +happy, and as they heard a little snuffling sound from between the +rocks, Kazan wagged his tail, and Gray Wolf darted back to her young. + +The babyish cry and its effect upon Gray Wolf taught Kazan his first +lesson in fatherhood. Instinct again told him that Gray Wolf could not +go down to the hunt with him now--that she must stay at the top of the +Sun Rock. So when the moon rose he went down alone, and toward dawn +returned with a big white rabbit between his jaws. It was the wild in +him that made him do this, and Gray Wolf ate ravenously. Then he knew +that each night hereafter he must hunt for Gray Wolf--and the little +whimpering creatures hidden between the two rocks. + +The next day, and still the next, he did not go to the cabin, though he +heard the voices of both the man and the woman calling him. On the fifth +he went down, and Joan and the baby were so glad that the woman hugged +him, and the baby kicked and laughed and screamed at him, while the man +stood by cautiously, watching their demonstrations with a gleam of +disapprobation in his eyes. + +"I'm afraid of him," he told Joan for the hundredth time. "That's the +wolf-gleam in his eyes. He's of a treacherous breed. Sometimes I wish +we'd never brought him home." + +"If we hadn't--where would the baby--have gone?" Joan reminded him, a +little catch in her voice. + +"I had almost forgotten that," said her husband. "Kazan, you old devil, +I guess I love you, too." He laid his hand caressingly on Kazan's head. +"Wonder how he'll take to life down there?" he asked. "He has always +been used to the forests. It'll seem mighty strange." + +"And so--have I--always been used to the forests," whispered Joan. "I +guess that's why I love Kazan--next to you and the baby. Kazan--dear old +Kazan!" + +This time Kazan felt and scented more of that mysterious change in the +cabin. Joan and her husband talked incessantly of their plans when they +were together; and when the man was away Joan talked to the baby, and to +him. And each time that he came down to the cabin during the week that +followed, he grew more and more restless, until at last the man noticed +the change in him. + +"I believe he knows," he said to Joan one evening. "I believe he knows +we're preparing to leave." Then he added: "The river was rising again +to-day. It will be another week before we can start, perhaps longer." + +That same night the moon flooded the top of the Sun Rock with a golden +light, and out into the glow of it came Gray Wolf, with her three little +whelps toddling behind her. There was much about these soft little balls +that tumbled about him and snuggled in his tawny coat that reminded +Kazan of the baby. At times they made the same queer, soft little +sounds, and they staggered about on their four little legs just as +helplessly as baby Joan made her way about on two. He did not fondle +them, as Gray Wolf did, but the touch of them, and their babyish +whimperings, filled him with a kind of pleasure that he had never +experienced before. + +The moon was straight above them, and the night was almost as bright as +day, when he went down again to hunt for Gray Wolf. At the foot of the +rock a big white rabbit popped up ahead of him, and he gave chase. For +half a mile he pursued, until the wolf instinct in him rose over the +dog, and he gave up the futile race. A deer he might have overtaken, but +small game the wolf must hunt as the fox hunts it, and he began to slip +through the thickets slowly and as quietly as a shadow. He was a mile +from the Sun Rock when two quick leaps put Gray Wolf's supper between +his jaws. He trotted back slowly, dropping the big seven-pound snow-shoe +hare now and then to rest. + +When he came to the narrow trail that led to the top of the Sun Rock he +stopped. In that trail was the warm scent of strange feet. The rabbit +fell from his jaws. Every hair in his body was suddenly electrified into +life. What he scented was not the scent of a rabbit, a marten or a +porcupine. Fang and claw had climbed the path ahead of him. And then, +coming faintly to him from the top of the rock, he heard sounds which +sent him up with a terrible whining cry. When he reached the summit he +saw in the white moonlight a scene that stopped him for a single moment. +Close to the edge of the sheer fall to the rocks, fifty feet below, Gray +Wolf was engaged in a death-struggle with a huge gray lynx. She was +down--and under, and from her there came a sudden sharp terrible cry of +pain. + +Kazan flew across the rock. His attack was the swift silent assault of +the wolf, combined with the greater courage, the fury and the strategy +of the husky. Another husky would have died in that first attack. But +the lynx was not a dog or a wolf. It was "Mow-lee, the swift," as the +Sarcees had named it--the quickest creature in the wilderness. Kazan's +inch-long fangs should have sunk deep in its jugular. But in a +fractional part of a second the lynx had thrown itself back like a huge +soft ball, and Kazan's teeth buried themselves in the flesh of its neck +instead of the jugular. And Kazan was not now fighting the fangs of a +wolf in the pack, or of another husky. He was fighting claws--claws that +ripped like twenty razor-edged knives, and which even a jugular hold +could not stop. + +Once he had fought a lynx in a trap, and he had not forgotten the lesson +the battle had taught him. He fought to pull the lynx _down_, instead of +forcing it on its back, as he would have done with another dog or a +wolf. He knew that when on its back the fierce cat was most dangerous. +One rip of its powerful hindfeet could disembowel him. + +Behind him he heard Gray Wolf sobbing and crying, and he knew that she +was terribly hurt. He was filled with the rage and strength of two dogs, +and his teeth met through the flesh and hide of the cat's throat. But +the big lynx escaped death by half an inch. It would take a fresh grip +to reach the jugular, and suddenly Kazan made the deadly lunge. There +was an instant's freedom for the lynx, and in that moment it flung +itself back, and Kazan gripped at its throat--_on top_. + +The cat's claws ripped through his flesh, cutting open his side--a +little too high to kill. Another stroke and they would have cut to his +vitals. But they had struggled close to the edge of the rock wall, and +suddenly, without a snarl or a cry, they rolled over. It was fifty or +sixty feet to the rocks of the ledge below, and even as they pitched +over and over in the fall, Kazan's teeth sank deeper. They struck with +terrific force, Kazan uppermost. The shock sent him half a dozen feet +from his enemy. He was up like a flash, dizzy, snarling, on the +defensive. The lynx lay limp and motionless where it had fallen. Kazan +came nearer, still prepared, and sniffed cautiously. Something told him +that the fight was over. He turned and dragged himself slowly along the +ledge to the trail, and returned to Gray Wolf. + +Gray Wolf was no longer in the moonlight. Close to the two rocks lay the +limp and lifeless little bodies of the three pups. The lynx had torn +them to pieces. With a whine of grief Kazan approached the two boulders +and thrust his head between them. Gray Wolf was there, crying to herself +in that terrible sobbing way. He went in, and began to lick her bleeding +shoulders and head. All the rest of that night she whimpered with pain. +With dawn she dragged herself out to the lifeless little bodies on the +rock. + +And then Kazan saw the terrible work of the lynx. For Gray Wolf was +blind--not for a day or a night, but blind for all time. A gloom that no +sun could break had become her shroud. And perhaps again it was that +instinct of animal creation, which often is more wonderful than man's +reason, that told Kazan what had happened. For he knew now that she was +helpless--more helpless than the little creatures that had gamboled in +the moonlight a few hours before. He remained close beside her all +that day. + +[Illustration: Kazan gripped at its throat] + +Vainly that day did Joan call for Kazan. Her voice rose to the Sun Rock, +and Gray Wolf's head snuggled closer to Kazan, and Kazan's ears dropped +back, and he licked her wounds. Late in the afternoon Kazan left Gray +Wolf long enough to run to the bottom of the trail and bring up the +snow-shoe rabbit. Gray Wolf muzzled the fur and flesh, but would not +eat. Still a little later Kazan urged her to follow him to the trail. He +no longer wanted to stay at the top of the Sun Rock, and he no longer +wanted Gray Wolf to stay there. Step by step he drew her down the +winding path away from her dead puppies. She would move only when he was +very near her--so near that she could touch his scarred flank with her +nose. + +They came at last to the point in the trail where they had to leap down +a distance of three or four feet from the edge of a rock, and here Kazan +saw how utterly helpless Gray Wolf had become. She whined, and crouched +twenty times before she dared make the spring, and then she jumped +stiff-legged, and fell in a heap at Kazan's feet. After this Kazan did +not have to urge her so hard, for the fall impinged on her the fact that +she was safe only when her muzzle touched her mate's flank. She followed +him obediently when they reached the plain, trotting with her +foreshoulder to his hip. + +Kazan was heading for a thicket in the creek bottom half a mile away, +and a dozen times in that short distance Gray Wolf stumbled and fell. +And each time that she fell Kazan learned a little more of the +limitations of blindness. Once he sprang off in pursuit of a rabbit, but +he had not taken twenty leaps when he stopped and looked back. Gray Wolf +had not moved an inch. She stood motionless, sniffing the air--waiting +for him! For a full minute Kazan stood, also waiting. Then he returned +to her. Ever after this he returned to the point where he had left Gray +Wolf, knowing that he would find her there. + +All that day they remained in the thicket. In the afternoon he visited +the cabin. Joan and her husband were there, and both saw at once +Kazan's torn side and his lacerated head and shoulders. + +"Pretty near a finish fight for him," said the man, after he had +examined him. "It was either a lynx or a bear. Another wolf could not do +that." + +For half an hour Joan worked over him, talking to him all the time, and +fondling him with her soft hands. She bathed his wounds in warm water, +and then covered them with a healing salve, and Kazan was filled again +with that old restful desire to remain with her always, and never to go +back into the forests. For an hour she let him lie on the edge of her +dress, with his nose touching her foot, while she worked on baby things. +Then she rose to prepare supper, and Kazan got up--a little wearily--and +went to the door. Gray Wolf and the gloom of the night were calling him, +and he answered that call with a slouch of his shoulders and a drooping +head. Its old thrill was gone. He watched his chance, and went out +through the door. The moon had risen when he rejoined Gray Wolf. She +greeted his return with a low whine of joy, and muzzled him with her +blind face. In her helplessness she looked happier than Kazan in all his +strength. + +From now on, during the days that followed, it was a last great fight +between blind and faithful Gray Wolf and the woman. If Joan had known of +what lay in the thicket, if she could once have seen the poor creature +to whom Kazan was now all life--the sun, the stars, the moon, and +food--she would have helped Gray Wolf. But as it was she tried to lure +Kazan more and more to the cabin, and slowly she won. + +At last the great day came, eight days after the fight on the Sun Rock. +Kazan had taken Gray Wolf to a wooded point on the river two days +before, and there he had left her the preceding night when he went to +the cabin. This time a stout babiche thong was tied to the collar round +his neck, and he was fastened to a staple in the log wall. Joan and her +husband were up before it was light next day. The sun was just rising +when they all went out, the man carrying the baby, and Joan leading him. +Joan turned and locked the cabin door, and Kazan heard a sob in her +throat as they followed the man down to the river. The big canoe was +packed and waiting. Joan got in first, with the baby. Then, still +holding the babiche thong, she drew Kazan up close to her, so that he +lay with his weight against her. + +The sun fell warmly on Kazan's back as they shoved off, and he closed +his eyes, and rested his head on Joan's lap. Her hand fell softly on his +shoulder. He heard again that sound which the man could not hear, the +broken sob in her throat, as the canoe moved slowly down to the wooded +point. + +Joan waved her hand back at the cabin, just disappearing behind the +trees. + +"Good-by!" she cried sadly. "Good-by--" And then she buried her face +close down to Kazan and the baby, and sobbed. + +The man stopped paddling. + +"You're not sorry--Joan?" he asked. + +They were drifting past the point now, and the scent of Gray Wolf came +to Kazan's nostrils, rousing him, and bringing a low whine from his +throat. + +"You're not sorry--we're going?" Joan shook her head. + +"No," she replied. "Only I've--always lived here--in the forests--and +they're--home!" + +The point with its white finger of sand, was behind them now. And Kazan +was standing rigid, facing it. The man called to him, and Joan lifted +her head. She, too, saw the point, and suddenly the babiche leash +slipped from her fingers, and a strange light leaped into her blue eyes +as she saw what stood at the end of that white tip of sand. It was Gray +Wolf. Her blind eyes were turned toward Kazan. At last Gray Wolf, the +faithful, understood. Scent told her what her eyes could not see. Kazan +and the man-smell were together. And they were going--going--going-- + +"Look!" whispered Joan. + +The man turned. Gray Wolf's forefeet were in the water. And now, as the +canoe drifted farther and farther away, she settled back on her +haunches, raised her head to the sun which she could not see and gave +her last long wailing cry for Kazan. + +The canoe lurched. A tawny body shot through the air--and Kazan was +gone. + +The man reached forward for his rifle. Joan's hand stopped him. Her +face was white. + +"Let him go back to her! Let him go--let him go!" she cried. "It is his +place--with her." + +And Kazan reaching the shore, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and +looked for the last time toward the woman. The canoe was drifting slowly +around the first bend. A moment more and it had disappeared. Gray Wolf +had won. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DAYS OF FIRE + + +From the night of the terrible fight with the big gray lynx on the top +of the Sun Rock, Kazan remembered less and less vividly the old days +when he had been a sledge-dog, and the leader of a pack. He would never +quite forget them, and always there would stand out certain memories +from among the rest, like fires cutting the blackness of night. But as +man dates events from his birth, his marriage, his freedom from a +bondage, or some foundation-step in his career, so all things seemed to +Kazan to begin with two tragedies which had followed one fast upon the +other after the birth of Gray Wolf's pups. + +The first was the fight on the Sun Rock, when the big gray lynx had +blinded his beautiful wolf mate for all time, and had torn her pups into +pieces. He in turn had killed the lynx. But Gray Wolf was still blind. +Vengeance had not been able to give her sight. She could no longer hunt +with him, as they had hunted with the wild wolf-packs out on the plain, +and in the dark forests. So at thought of that night he always snarled, +and his lips curled back to reveal his inch-long fangs. + +The other tragedy was the going of Joan, her baby and her husband. +Something more infallible than reason told Kazan that they would not +come back. Brightest of all the pictures that remained with him was that +of the sunny morning when the woman and the baby he loved, and the man +he endured because of them, had gone away in the canoe, and often he +would go to the point, and gaze longingly down-stream, where he had +leaped from the canoe to return to his blind mate. + +So Kazan's life seemed now to be made up chiefly of three things: his +hatred of everything that bore the scent or mark of the lynx, his +grieving for Joan and the baby, and Gray Wolf. It was natural that the +strongest passion in him should be his hatred of the lynx, for not only +Gray Wolf's blindness and the death of the pups, but even the loss of +the woman and the baby he laid to that fatal struggle on the Sun Rock. +From that hour he became the deadliest enemy of the lynx tribe. Wherever +he struck the scent of the big gray cat he was turned into a snarling +demon, and his hatred grew day by day, as he became more completely a +part of the wild. + +He found that Gray Wolf was more necessary to him now than she had ever +been since the day she had left the wolf-pack for him. He was +three-quarters dog, and the dog-part of him demanded companionship. +There was only Gray Wolf to give him that now. They were alone. +Civilization was four hundred miles south of them. The nearest Hudson's +Bay post was sixty miles to the west. Often, in the days of the woman +and the baby, Gray Wolf had spent her nights alone out in the forest, +waiting and calling for Kazan. Now it was Kazan who was lonely and +uneasy when he was away from her side. + +In her blindness Gray Wolf could no longer hunt with her mate. But +gradually a new code of understanding grew up between them, and through +her blindness they learned many things that they had not known before. +By early summer Gray Wolf could travel with Kazan, if he did not move +too swiftly. She ran at his flank, with her shoulder or muzzle touching +him, and Kazan learned not to leap, but to trot. Very quickly he found +that he must choose the easiest trails for Gray Wolf's feet. When they +came to a space to be bridged by a leap, he would muzzle Gray Wolf and +whine, and she would stand with ears alert--listening. Then Kazan would +take the leap, and she understood the distance she had to cover. She +always over-leaped, which was a good fault. + +In another way, and one that was destined to serve them many times in +the future, she became of greater help than ever to Kazan. Scent and +hearing entirely took the place of sight. Each day developed these +senses more and more, and at the same time there developed between them +the dumb language whereby she could impress upon Kazan what she had +discovered by scent or sound. It became a curious habit of Kazan's +always to look at Gray Wolf when they stopped to listen, or to scent the +air. + +After the fight on the Sun Rock, Kazan had taken his blind mate to a +thick clump of spruce and balsam in the river-bottom, where they +remained until early summer. Every day for weeks Kazan went to the cabin +where Joan and the baby--and the man--had been. For a long time he went +hopefully, looking each day or night to see some sign of life there. But +the door was never open. The boards and saplings at the windows always +remained. Never a spiral of smoke rose from the clay chimney. Grass and +vines began to grow in the path. And fainter and fainter grew that scent +which Kazan could still find about it--the scent of man, of the woman, +the baby. + +One day he found a little baby moccasin under one of the closed windows. +It was old, and worn out, and blackened by snow and rain, but he lay +down beside it, and remained there for a long time, while the baby +Joan--a thousand miles away--was playing with the strange toys of +civilization. Then he returned to Gray Wolf among the spruce and balsam. + +The cabin was the one place to which Gray Wolf would not follow him. At +all other times she was at his side. Now that she had become accustomed +to blindness, she even accompanied him on his hunts, until he struck +game, and began the chase. Then she would wait for him. Kazan usually +hunted the big snow-shoe rabbits. But one night he ran down and killed a +young doe. The kill was too heavy to drag to Gray Wolf, so he returned +to where she was waiting for him and guided her to the feast. In many +ways they became more and more inseparable as the summer lengthened, +until at last, through all the wilderness, their footprints were always +two by two and never one by one. + +Then came the great fire. + +Gray Wolf caught the scent of it when it was still two days to the west. +The sun that night went down in a lurid cloud. The moon, drifting into +the west, became blood red. When it dropped behind the wilderness in +this manner, the Indians called it the Bleeding Moon, and the air was +filled with omens. + +All the next day Gray Wolf was nervous, and toward noon Kazan caught in +the air the warning that she had sensed many hours ahead of him. +Steadily the scent grew stronger, and by the middle of the afternoon the +sun was veiled by a film of smoke. + +The flight of the wild things from the triangle of forest between the +junctions of the Pipestone and Cree Rivers would have begun then, but +the wind shifted. It was a fatal shift. The fire was raging from the +west and south. Then the wind swept straight eastward, carrying the +smoke with it, and during this breathing spell all the wild creatures in +the triangle between the two rivers waited. This gave the fire time to +sweep completely, across the base of the forest triangle, cutting off +the last trails of escape. + +Then the wind shifted again, and the fire swept north. The head of the +triangle became a death-trap. All through the night the southern sky was +filled with a lurid glow, and by morning the heat and smoke and ash were +suffocating. + +Panic-striken, Kazan searched vainly for a means of escape. Not for an +instant did he leave Gray Wolf. It would have been easy for him to swim +across either of the two streams, for he was three-quarters dog. But at +the first touch of water on her paws, Gray Wolf drew back, shrinking. +Like all her breed, she would face fire and death before water. Kazan +urged. A dozen times he leaped in, and swam out into the stream. But +Gray Wolf would come no farther than she could wade. + +They could hear the distant murmuring roar of the fire now. Ahead of it +came the wild things. Moose, caribou and deer plunged into the water of +the streams and swam to the safety of the opposite side. Out upon a +white finger of sand lumbered a big black bear with two cubs, and even +the cubs took to the water, and swam across easily. Kazan watched them, +and whined to Gray Wolf. + +And then out upon that white finger of sand came other things that +dreaded the water as Gray Wolf dreaded it: a big fat porcupine, a sleek +little marten, a fisher-cat that sniffed the air and wailed like a +child. Those things that could not or would not swim outnumbered the +others three to one. Hundreds of little ermine scurried along the shore +like rats, their squeaking little voices sounding incessantly; foxes ran +swiftly along the banks, seeking a tree or a windfall that might bridge +the water for them; the lynx snarled and faced the fire; and Gray +Wolf's own tribe--the wolves--dared take no deeper step than she. + +Dripping and panting, and half choked by heat and smoke, Kazan came to +Gray Wolf's side. There was but one refuge left near them, and that was +the sand-bar. It reached out for fifty feet into the stream. Quickly he +led his blind mate toward it. As they came through the low bush to the +river-bed, something stopped them both. To their nostrils had come the +scent of a deadlier enemy than fire. A lynx had taken possession of the +sand-bar, and was crouching at the end of it. Three porcupines had +dragged themselves into the edge of the water, and lay there like balls, +their quills alert and quivering. A fisher-cat was snarling at the lynx. +And the lynx, with ears laid back, watched Kazan and Gray Wolf as they +began the invasion of the sand-bar. + +Faithful Gray Wolf was full of fight, and she sprang shoulder to +shoulder with Kazan, her fangs bared. With an angry snap, Kazan drove +her back, and she stood quivering and whining while he advanced. +Light-footed, his pointed ears forward, no menace or threat in his +attitude, he advanced. It was the deadly advance of the husky trained +in battle, skilled in the art of killing. A man from civilization would +have said that the dog was approaching the lynx with friendly +intentions. But the lynx understood. It was the old feud of many +generations--made deadlier now by Kazan's memory of that night at the +top of the Sun Rock. + +Instinct told the fisher-cat what was coming, and it crouched low and +flat; the porcupines, scolding like little children at the presence of +enemies and the thickening clouds of smoke, thrust their quills still +more erect. The lynx lay on its belly, like a cat, its hindquarters +twitching, and gathered for the spring. Kazan's feet seemed scarcely to +touch the sand as he circled lightly around it. The lynx pivoted as he +circled, and then it shot in a round snarling ball over the eight feet +of space that separated them. + +Kazan did not leap aside. He made no effort to escape the attack, but +met it fairly with the full force of his shoulders, as sledge-dog meets +sledge-dog. He was ten pounds heavier than the lynx, and for a moment +the big loose-jointed cat with its twenty knife-like claws was thrown +on its side. Like a flash Kazan took advantage of the moment, and drove +for the back of the cat's neck. + +In that same moment blind Gray Wolf leaped in with a snarling cry, and +fighting under Kazan's belly, she fastened her jaws in one of the cat's +hindlegs. The bone snapped. The lynx, twice outweighed, leaped backward, +dragging both Kazan and Gray Wolf. It fell back down on one of the +porcupines, and a hundred quills drove into its body. Another leap and +it was free--fleeing into the face of the smoke. Kazan did not pursue. +Gray Wolf came to his side and licked his neck, where fresh blood was +crimsoning his tawny hide. The fisher-cat lay as if dead, watching them +with fierce little black eyes. The porcupines continued to chatter, as +if begging for mercy. And then a thick black suffocating pall of smoke +drove low over the sand-bar and with it came air that was furnace-hot. + +At the uttermost end of the sand-bar Kazan and Gray Wolf rolled +themselves into balls and thrust their heads under their bodies. The +fire was very near now. The roar of it was like that of a great +cataract, with now and then a louder crash of falling trees. The air +was filled with ash and burning sparks, and twice Kazan drew forth his +head to snap at blazing embers that fell upon and seared him like hot +irons. + +Close along the edge of the stream grew thick green bush, and when the +fire reached this, it burned more slowly, and the heat grew less. Still, +it was a long time before Kazan and Gray Wolf could draw forth their +heads and breathe more freely. Then they found that the finger of sand +reaching out into the river had saved them. Everywhere in that triangle +between the two rivers the world had turned black, and was hot +underfoot. + +The smoke cleared away. The wind changed again, and swung down cool and +fresh from the west and north. The fisher-cat was the first to move +cautiously back to the forests that had been, but the porcupines were +still rolled into balls when Gray Wolf and Kazan left the sand-bar. They +began to travel up-stream, and before night came, their feet were sore +from hot ash and burning embers. + +The moon was strange and foreboding that night, like a spatter of blood +in the sky, and through the long silent hours there was not even the +hoot of an owl to give a sign that life still existed where yesterday +had been a paradise of wild things. Kazan knew that there was nothing to +hunt, and they continued to travel all that night. With dawn they struck +a narrow swamp along the edge of the stream. Here beavers had built a +dam, and they were able to cross over into the green country on the +opposite side. For another day and another night they traveled westward, +and this brought them into the thick country of swamp and timber along +the Waterfound. + +And as Kazan and Gray Wolf came from the west, there came from the +Hudson's Bay post to the east a slim dark-faced French half-breed by the +name of Henri Loti, the most famous lynx hunter in all the Hudson's Bay +country. He was prospecting for "signs," and he found them in abundance +along the Waterfound. It was a game paradise, and the snow-shoe rabbit +abounded in thousands. As a consequence, the lynxes were thick, and +Henri built his trapping shack, and then returned to the post to wait +until the first snows fell, when he would come back with his team, +supplies and traps. + +And up from the south, at this same time, there was slowly working his +way by canoe and trail a young university zoologist who was gathering +material for a book on _The Reasoning of the Wild_. His name was Paul +Weyman, and he had made arrangements to spend a part of the winter with +Henri Loti, the half-breed. He brought with him plenty of paper, a +camera and the photograph of a girl. His only weapon was a pocket-knife. + +And meanwhile Kazan and Gray Wolf found the home they were seeking in a +thick swamp five or six miles from the cabin that Henri Loti had built. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + +It was January when a guide from the post brought Paul Weyman to Henri +Loti's cabin on the Waterfound. He was a man of thirty-two or three, +full of the red-blooded life that made Henri like him at once. If this +had not been the case, the first few days in the cabin might have been +unpleasant, for Henri was in bad humor. He told Weyman about it their +first night, as they were smoking pipes alongside the redly glowing box +stove. + +"It is damn strange," said Henri. "I have lost seven lynx in the traps, +torn to pieces like they were no more than rabbits that the foxes had +killed. No thing--not even bear--have ever tackled lynx in a trap +before. It is the first time I ever see it. And they are torn up so bad +they are not worth one half dollar at the post. Seven!--that is over two +hundred dollar I have lost! There are two wolves who do it. Two--I know +it by the tracks--always two--an'--never one. They follow my trap-line +an' eat the rabbits I catch. They leave the fisher-cat, an' the mink, +an' the ermine, an' the marten; but the lynx--_sacré_ an' damn!--they +jump on him an' pull the fur from him like you pull the wild cotton +balls from the burn-bush! I have tried strychnine in deer fat, an' I +have set traps and deadfalls, but I can not catch them. They will drive +me out unless I get them, for I have taken only five good lynx, an' they +have destroyed seven." + +This roused Weyman. He was one of that growing number of thoughtful men +who believe that man's egoism, as a race, blinds him to many of the more +wonderful facts of creation. He had thrown down the gantlet, and with a +logic that had gained him a nation-wide hearing, to those who believed +that man was the only living creature who could reason, and that common +sense and cleverness when displayed by any other breathing thing were +merely instinct. The facts behind Henri's tale of woe struck him as +important, and until midnight they talked about the two strange wolves. + +"There is one big wolf an' one smaller," said Henri. "An' it is always +the big wolf who goes in an' fights the lynx. I see that by the snow. +While he's fighting, the smaller wolf makes many tracks in the snow just +out of reach, an' then when the lynx is down, or dead, it jumps in an' +helps tear it into pieces. All that I know by the snow. Only once have I +seen where the smaller one went in an' fought with the other, an' then +there was blood all about that was not lynx blood; I trailed the devils +a mile by the dripping." + +During the two weeks that followed, Weyman found much to add to the +material of his book. Not a day passed that somewhere along Henri's +trap-line they did not see the trails of the two wolves, and Weyman +observed that--as Henri had told him--the footprints were always two by +two, and never one by one. On the third day they came to a trap that had +held a lynx, and at sight of what remained Henri cursed in both French +and English until he was purple in the face. The lynx had been torn +until its pelt was practically worthless. + +Weyman saw where the smaller wolf had waited on its haunches, while its +companion had killed the lynx. He did not tell Henri all he thought. But +the days that followed convinced him more and more that he had found the +most dramatic exemplification of his theory. Back of this mysterious +tragedy of the trap-line there was a _reason_. + +Why did the two wolves not destroy the fisher-cat, the ermine and the +marten? Why was their feud with the lynx alone? + +Weyman was strangely thrilled. He was a lover of wild things, and for +that reason he never carried a gun. And when he saw Henri placing +poison-baits for the two marauders, he shuddered, and when, day after +day, he saw that these poison-baits were untouched, he rejoiced. +Something in his own nature went out in sympathy to the heroic outlaw of +the trap-line who never failed to give battle to the lynx. Nights in the +cabin he wrote down his thoughts and discoveries of the day. One night +he turned suddenly on Henri. + +"Henri, doesn't it ever make you sorry to kill so many wild things?" he +asked. + +Henri stared and shook his head. + +"I kill t'ousand an' t'ousand," he said. "I kill t'ousand more." + +"And there are twenty thousand others just like you in this northern +quarter of the continent--all killing, killing for hundreds of years +back, and yet you can't kill out wild life. The war of Man and the +Beast, you might call it. And, if you could return five hundred years +from now, Henri, you'd still find wild life here. Nearly all the rest of +the world is changing, but you can't change these almost impenetrable +thousands of square miles of ridges and swamps and forests. The +railroads won't come here, and I, for one, thank God for that. Take all +the great prairies to the west, for instance. Why, the old buffalo +trails are still there, plain as day--and yet, towns and cities are +growing up everywhere. Did you ever hear of North Battleford?" + +"Is she near Montreal or Quebec?" Henri asked. + +Weyman smiled, and drew a photograph from his pocket. It was the picture +of a girl. + +"No. It's far to the west, in Saskatchewan. Seven years ago I used to +go up there every year, to shoot prairie chickens, coyotes and elk. +There wasn't any North Battleford then--just the glorious prairie, +hundreds and hundreds of square miles of it. There was a single shack on +the Saskatchewan River, where North Battleford now stands, and I used to +stay there. In that shack there was a little girl, twelve years old. We +used to go out hunting together--for I used to kill things in those +days. And the little girl would cry sometimes when I killed, and I'd +laugh at her. + +"Then a railroad came, and then another, and they joined near the shack, +and all at once a town sprang up. Seven years ago there was only the +shack there, Henri. Two years ago there were eighteen hundred people. +This year, when I came through, there were five thousand, and two years +from now there'll be ten thousand. + +"On the ground where that shack stood are three banks, with a capital of +forty million dollars; you can see the glow of the electric lights of +the city twenty miles away. It has a hundred-thousand dollar college, a +high school, the provincial asylum, a fire department, two clubs, a +board of trade, and it's going to have a street-car line within two +years. Think of that--all where the coyotes howled a few years ago! + +"People are coming in so fast that they can't keep a census. Five years +from now there'll be a city of twenty thousand where the old shack +stood. And the little girl in that shack, Henri--she's a young lady now, +and her people are--well, rich. I don't care about that. The chief thing +is that she is going to marry me in the spring. Because of her I stopped +killing things when she was only sixteen. The last thing I killed was a +prairie wolf, and it had young. Eileen kept the little puppy. She's got +it now--tamed. That's why above all other wild things I love the wolves. +And I hope these two leave your trap-line safe." + +Henri was staring at him. Weyman gave him the picture. It was of a +sweet-faced girl, with deep pure eyes, and there came a twitch at the +corners of Henri's mouth as he looked at it. + +"My Iowaka died t'ree year ago," he said. "She too loved the wild +thing. But them wolf--damn! They drive me out if I can not kill them!" +He put fresh fuel into the stove, and prepared for bed. + +One day the big idea came to Henri. + +Weyman was with him when they struck fresh signs of lynx. There was a +great windfall ten or fifteen feet high, and in one place the logs had +formed a sort of cavern, with almost solid walls on three sides. The +snow was beaten down by tracks, and the fur of rabbit was scattered +about. Henri was jubilant. + +"We got heem--sure!" he said. + +He built the bait-house, set a trap and looked about him shrewdly. Then +he explained his scheme to Weyman. If the lynx was caught, and the two +wolves came to destroy it, the fight would take place in that shelter +under the windfall, and the marauders would have to pass through the +opening. So Henri set five smaller traps, concealing them skilfully +under leaves and moss and snow, and all were far enough away from the +bait-house so that the trapped lynx could not spring them in his +struggles. + +"When they fight, wolf jump this way an' that--an' sure get in," said +Henri. "He miss one, two, t'ree--but he sure get in trap somewhere." + +That same morning a light snow fell, making the work more complete, for +it covered up all footprints and buried the telltale scent of man. That +night Kazan and Gray Wolf passed within a hundred feet of the windfall, +and Gray Wolf's keen scent detected something strange and disquieting in +the air. She informed Kazan by pressing her shoulder against his, and +they swung off at right angles, keeping to windward of the trap-line. + +For two days and three cold starlit nights nothing happened at the +windfall. Henri understood, and explained to Weyman. The lynx was a +hunter, like himself, and also had its hunt-line, which it covered about +once a week. On the fifth night the lynx returned, went to the windfall, +was lured straight to the bait, and the sharp-toothed steel trap closed +relentlessly over its right hindfoot. Kazan and Gray Wolf were traveling +a quarter of a mile deeper in the forest when they heard the clanking of +the steel chain as the lynx fought; to free itself. Ten minutes later +they stood in the door of the windfall cavern. + +It was a white clear night, so filled with brilliant stars that Henri +himself could have hunted by the light of them. The lynx had exhausted +itself, and lay crouching on its belly as Kazan and Gray Wolf appeared. +As usual, Gray Wolf held back while Kazan began the battle. In the first +or second of these fights on the trap-line, Kazan would probably have +been disemboweled or had his jugular vein cut open, had the fierce cats +been free. They were more than his match in open fight, though the +biggest of them fell ten pounds under his weight. Chance had saved him +on the Sun Rock. Gray Wolf and the porcupine had both added to the +defeat of the lynx on the sand-bar. And along Henri's hunting line it +was the trap that was his ally. Even with his enemy thus shackled he +took big chances. And he took bigger chances than ever with the lynx +under the windfall. + +The cat was an old warrior, six or seven years old. His claws were an +inch and a quarter long, and curved like simitars. His forefeet and his +left hindfoot were free, and as Kazan advanced, he drew back, so that +the trap-chain was slack under his body. Here Kazan could not follow his +old tactics of circling about his trapped foe, until it had become +tangled in the chain, or had so shortened and twisted it that there was +no chance for a leap. He had to attack face to face, and suddenly he +lunged in. They met shoulder to shoulder. Kazan's fangs snapped at the +other's throat, and missed. Before he could strike again, the lynx flung +out its free hindfoot, and even Gray Wolf heard the ripping sound that +it made. With a snarl Kazan was flung back, his shoulder torn to the +bone. + +Then it was that one of Henri's hidden traps saved him from a second +attack--and death. Steel jaws snapped over one of his forefeet, and when +he leaped, the chain stopped him. Once or twice before, blind Gray Wolf +had leaped in, when she knew that Kazan was in great danger. For an +instant she forgot her caution now, and as she heard Kazan's snarl of +pain, she sprang in under the windfall. Five traps Henri had hidden in +the space in front of the bait-house, and Gray Wolf's feet found two of +these. She fell on her side, snapping and snarling. In his struggles +Kazan sprung the remaining two traps. One of them missed. The fifth, and +last, caught him by a hindfoot. + +This was a little past midnight. From then until morning the earth and +snow under the windfall were torn up by the struggles of the wolf, the +dog and the lynx to regain their freedom. And when morning came, all +three were exhausted, and lay on their sides, panting and with bleeding +jaws, waiting for the coming of man--and death. + +Henri and Weyman were out early. When they struck off the main line +toward the windfall, Henri pointed to the tracks of Kazan and Gray Wolf, +and his dark face lighted up with pleasure and excitement. When they +reached the shelter under the mass of fallen timber, both stood +speechless for a moment, astounded by what they saw. Even Henri had seen +nothing like this before--two wolves and a lynx, all in traps, and +almost within reach of one another's fangs. But surprise could not long +delay the business of Henri's hunter's instinct. The wolves lay first in +his path, and he was raising his rifle to put a steel-capped bullet +through the base of Kazan's brain, when Weyman caught him eagerly by the +arm. Weyman was staring. His fingers dug into Henri's flesh. His eyes +had caught a glimpse of the steel-studded collar about Kazan's neck. + +"Wait!" he cried. "It's not a wolf. It's a dog!" + +Henri lowered his rifle, staring at the collar. Weyman's eyes shot to +Gray Wolf. She was facing them, snarling, her white fangs bared to the +foes she could not see. Her blind eyes were closed. Where there should +have been eyes there was only hair, and an exclamation broke from +Weyman's lips. + +"Look!" he commanded of Henri. "What in the name of heaven--" + +"One is dog--wild dog that has run to the wolves," said Henri. "And the +other is--wolf." + +"And _blind_!" gasped Weyman. + +"_Oui_, blind, m'sieur," added Henri, falling partly into French in his +amazement. He was raising his rifle again. Weyman seized it firmly. + +[Illustration: "Wait! it's not a wolf!"] + +"Don't kill them, Henri," he said. "Give them to me--alive. Figure up +the value of the lynx they have destroyed, and add to that the wolf +bounty, and I will pay. Alive, they are worth to me a great deal. My +God, a dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" + +He still held Henri's rifle, and Henri was staring at him, as if he did +not yet quite understand. + +Weyman continued speaking, his eyes and face blazing. + +"A dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" he repeated. "It is wonderful, +Henri. Down there, they will say I have gone beyond _reason_, when my +book comes out. But I shall have proof. I shall take twenty photographs +here, before you kill the lynx. I shall keep the dog and the wolf alive. +And I shall pay you, Henri, a hundred dollars apiece for the two. May I +have them?" + +Henri nodded. He held his rifle in readiness, while Weyman unpacked his +camera and got to work. Snarling fangs greeted the click of the +camera-shutter--the fangs of wolf and lynx. But Kazan lay cringing, not +through fear, but because he still recognized the mastery of man. And +when he had finished with his pictures, Weyman approached almost within +reach of him, and spoke even more kindly to him than the man who had +lived back in the deserted cabin. + +Henri shot the lynx, and when Kazan understood this, he tore at the end +of his trap-chains and snarled at the writhing body of his forest enemy. +By means of a pole and a babiche noose, Kazan was brought out from under +the windfall and taken to Henri's cabin. The two men then returned with +a thick sack and more babiche, and blind Gray Wolf, still fettered by +the traps, was made prisoner. All the rest of that day Weyman and Henri +worked to build a stout cage of saplings, and when it was finished, the +two prisoners were placed in it. + +Before the dog was put in with Gray Wolf, Weyman closely examined the +worn and tooth-marked collar about his neck. + +On the brass plate he found engraved the one word, "Kazan," and with a +strange thrill made note of it in his diary. + +After this Weyman often remained at the cabin when Henri went out on the +trap-line. After the second day he dared to put his hand between the +sapling bars and touch Kazan, and the next day Kazan accepted a piece of +raw moose meat from his hand. But at his approach, Gray Wolf would +always hide under the pile of balsam in the corner of their prison. The +instinct of generations and perhaps of centuries had taught her that man +was her deadliest enemy. And yet, this man did not hurt her, and Kazan +was not afraid of him. She was frightened at first; then puzzled, and a +growing curiosity followed that. Occasionally, after the third day, she +would thrust her blind face out of the balsam and sniff the air when +Weyman was at the cage, making friends with Kazan. But she would not +eat. Weyman noted that, and each day he tempted her with the choicest +morsels of deer and moose fat. Five days--six--seven passed, and she had +not taken a mouthful. Weyman could count her ribs. + +"She die," Henri told him on the seventh night. "She starve before she +eat in that cage. She want the forest, the wild kill, the fresh blood. +She two--t'ree year old--too old to make civilize." + +Henri went to bed at the usual hour, but Weyman was troubled, and sat +up late. He wrote a long letter to the sweet-faced girl at North +Battleford, and then he turned out the light, and painted visions of her +in the red glow of the fire. He saw her again for that first time when +he camped in the little shack where the fifth city of Saskatchewan now +stood--with her blue eyes, the big shining braid, and the fresh glow of +the prairies in her cheeks. She had hated him--yes, actually hated him, +because he loved to kill. He laughed softly as he thought of that. She +had changed him--wonderfully. + +He rose, opened the door, softly, and went out. Instinctively his eyes +turned westward. The sky was a blaze of stars. In their light he could +see the cage, and he stood, watching and listening. A sound came to him. +It was Gray Wolf gnawing at the sapling bars of her prison. A moment +later there came a low sobbing whine, and he knew that it was Kazan +crying for his freedom. + +Leaning against the side of the cabin was an ax. Weyman seized it, and +his lips smiled silently. He was thrilled by a strange happiness, and a +thousand miles away in that city on the Saskatchewan he could feel +another spirit rejoicing with him. He moved toward the cage. A dozen +blows, and two of the sapling bars were knocked out. Then Weyman drew +back. Gray Wolf found the opening first, and she slipped out into the +starlight like a shadow. But she did not flee. Out in the open space she +waited for Kazan, and for a moment the two stood there, looking at the +cabin. Then they set off into freedom, Gray Wolf's shoulder at Kazan's +flank. + +Weyman breathed deeply. + +"Two by two--always two by two, until death finds one of them," he +whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RED DEATH + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf wandered northward into the Fond du Lac country, and +were there when Jacques, a Hudson Bay Company's runner, came up to the +post from the south with the first authentic news of the dread +plague--the smallpox. For weeks there had been rumors on all sides. And +rumor grew into rumor. From the east, the south and the west they +multiplied, until on all sides the Paul Reveres of the wilderness were +carrying word that _La Mort Rouge_--the Red Death--was at their heels, +and the chill of a great fear swept like a shivering wind from the edge +of civilization to the bay. Nineteen years before these same rumors had +come up from the south, and the Red Terror had followed. The horror of +it still remained with the forest people, for a thousand unmarked +graves, shunned like a pestilence, and scattered from the lower waters +of James Bay to the lake country of the Athabasca, gave evidence of the +toll it demanded. + +Now and then in their wanderings Kazan and Gray Wolf had come upon the +little mounds that covered the dead. Instinct--something that was +infinitely beyond the comprehension of man--made them _feel_ the +presence of death about them, perhaps smell it in the air. Gray Wolf's +wild blood and her blindness gave her an immense advantage over Kazan +when it came to detecting those mysteries of the air and the earth which +the eyes were not made to see. Each day that had followed that terrible +moonlit night on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded her, had added +to the infallibility of her two chief senses--hearing and scent. And it +was she who discovered the presence of the plague first, just as she had +scented the great forest fire hours before Kazan had found it in the +air. + +Kazan had lured her back to a trap-line. The trail they found was old. +It had not been traveled for many days. In a trap they found a rabbit, +but it had been dead a long time. In another there was the carcass of a +fox, torn into bits by the owls. Most of the traps were sprung. Others +were covered with snow. Kazan, with his three-quarters strain of dog, +ran over the trail from trap to trap, intent only on something +alive--meat to devour. Gray Wolf, in her blindness, scented _death_. It +shivered in the tree-tops above her. She found it in every trap-house +they came to--death--_man death_. It grew stronger and stronger, and +she whined, and nipped Kazan's flank. And Kazan went on. Gray Wolf +followed him to the edge of the clearing in which Loti's cabin stood, +and then she sat back on her haunches, raised her blind face to the gray +sky, and gave a long and wailing cry. In that moment the bristles began +to stand up along Kazan's spine. Once, long ago, he had howled before +the tepee of a master who was newly dead, and he settled back on his +haunches, and gave the death-cry with Gray Wolf. He, too, scented it +now. Death was in the cabin, and over the cabin there stood a sapling +pole, and at the end of the pole there fluttered a strip of red cotton +rag--the warning flag of the plague from Athabasca to the bay. This man, +like a hundred other heroes of the North, had run up the warning before +he laid himself down to die. And that same night, in the cold light of +the moon, Kazan and Gray Wolf swung northward into the country of the +Fond du Lac. + +There preceded them a messenger from the post on Reindeer Lake, who was +passing up the warning that had come from Nelson House and the country +to the southeast. + +"There's smallpox on the Nelson," the messenger informed Williams, at +Fond du Lac, "and it has struck the Crees on Wollaston Lake. God only +knows what it is doing to the Bay Indians, but we hear it is wiping out +the Chippewas between the Albany and the Churchill." He left the same +day with his winded dogs. "I'm off to carry word to the Reveillon people +to the west," he explained. + +Three days later, word came from Churchill that all of the company's +servants and his majesty's subjects west of the bay should prepare +themselves for the coming of the Red Terror. Williams' thin face turned +as white as the paper he held, as he read the words of the Churchill +factor. + +"It means dig graves," he said. "That's the only preparation we can +make." + +He read the paper aloud to the men at Fond du Lac, and every available +man was detailed to spread the warning throughout the post's territory. +There was a quick harnessing of dogs, and on each sledge that went out +was a roll of red cotton cloth--rolls that were ominous of death, lurid +signals of pestilence and horror, whose touch sent shuddering chills +through the men who were about to scatter them among the forest people. +Kazan and Gray Wolf struck the trail of one of these sledges on the Gray +Beaver, and followed it for half a mile. The next day, farther to the +west, they struck another, and on the fourth day still a third. The last +trail was fresh, and Gray Wolf drew back from it as if stung, her fangs +snarling. On the wind there came to them the pungent odor of smoke. They +cut at right angles to the trail, Gray Wolf leaping clear of the marks +in the snow, and climbed to the cap of a ridge. To windward of them, and +down in the plain, a cabin was burning. A team of huskies and a man were +disappearing in the spruce forest. Deep down in his throat Kazan gave a +rumbling whine. Gray Wolf stood as rigid as a rock. In the cabin a +plague-dead man was burning. It was the law of the North. And the +mystery of the funeral pyre came again to Kazan and Gray Wolf. This time +they did not howl, but slunk down into the farther plain, and did not +stop that day until they had buried themselves deep in a dry and +sheltered swamp ten miles to the north. + +After this they followed the days and weeks which marked the winter of +nineteen hundred and ten as one of the most terrible in all the history +of the Northland--a single month in which wild life as well as human +hung in the balance, and when cold, starvation and plague wrote a +chapter in the lives of the forest people which will not be forgotten +for generations to come. + +In the swamp Kazan and Gray Wolf found a home under a windfall. It was a +small comfortable nest, shut in entirely from the snow and wind. Gray +Wolf took possession of it immediately. She flattened herself out on her +belly, and panted to show Kazan her contentment and satisfaction. Nature +again kept Kazan close at her side. A vision came to him, unreal and +dream-like, of that wonderful night under the stars--ages and ages ago, +it seemed--when he had fought the leader of the wolf-pack, and young +Gray Wolf had crept to his side after his victory and had given herself +to him for mate. But this mating season there was no running after the +doe or the caribou, or mingling with the wild pack. They lived chiefly +on rabbit and spruce partridge, because of Gray Wolf's blindness. Kazan +could hunt those alone. The hair had now grown over Gray Wolf's +sightless eyes. She had ceased to grieve, to rub her eyes with her paws, +to whine for the sunlight, the golden moon and the stars. Slowly she +began to forget that she had ever seen those things. She could now run +more swiftly at Kazan's flank. Scent and hearing had become wonderfully +keen. She could wind a caribou two miles distant, and the presence of +man she could pick up at an even greater distance. On a still night she +had heard the splash of a trout half a mile away. And as these two +things--scent and hearing--became more and more developed in her, those +same senses became less active in Kazan. + +He began to depend upon Gray Wolf. She would point out the hiding-place +of a partridge fifty yards from their trail. In their hunts she became +the leader--until game was found. And as Kazan learned to trust to her +in the hunt, so he began just as instinctively to heed her warnings. If +Gray Wolf reasoned, it was to the effect that without Kazan she would +die. She had tried hard now and then to catch a partridge, or a rabbit, +but she had always failed. Kazan meant life to her. And--if she +reasoned--it was to make herself indispensable to her mate. Blindness +had made her different than she would otherwise have been. Again nature +promised motherhood to her. But she did not--as she would have done in +the open, and with sight--hold more and more aloof from Kazan as the +days passed. It was her habit, spring, summer and winter, to snuggle +close to Kazan and lie with her beautiful head resting on his neck or +back. If Kazan snarled at her she did not snap back, but slunk down as +though struck a blow. With her warm tongue she would lick away the ice +that froze to the long hair between Kazan's toes. For days after he had +run a sliver in his paw she nursed his foot. Blindness had made Kazan +absolutely necessary to her existence--and now, in a different way, she +became more and more necessary to Kazan. They were happy in their swamp +home. There was plenty of small game about them, and it was warm under +the windfall. Rarely did they go beyond the limits of the swamp to hunt. +Out on the more distant plains and the barren ridges they occasionally +heard the cry of the wolf-pack on the trail of meat, but it no longer +thrilled them with a desire to join in the chase. + +One day they struck farther than usual to the west. They left the swamp, +crossed a plain over which a fire had swept the preceding year, climbed +a ridge, and descended into a second plain. At the bottom Gray Wolf +stopped and sniffed the air. At these times Kazan always watched her, +waiting eagerly and nervously if the scent was too faint for him to +catch. But to-day he caught the edge of it, and he knew why Gray Wolf's +ears flattened, and her hindquarters drooped. The scent of game would +have made her rigid and alert. But it was not the game smell. It was +human, and Gray Wolf slunk behind Kazan and whined. For several minutes +they stood without moving or making a sound, and then Kazan led the way +on. Less than three hundred yards away they came to a thick clump of +scrub spruce, and almost ran into a snow-smothered tepee. It was +abandoned. Life and fire had not been there for a long time. But from +the tepee had come the man-smell. With legs rigid and his spine +quivering Kazan approached the opening to the tepee. He looked in. In +the middle of the tepee, lying on the charred embers of a fire, lay a +ragged blanket--and in the blanket was wrapped the body of a little +Indian child. Kazan could see the tiny moccasined feet. But so long had +death been there that he could scarcely smell the presence of it. He +drew back, and saw Gray Wolf cautiously nosing about a long and +peculiarly shaped hummock in the snow. She had traveled about it three +times, but never approaching nearer than a man could have reached with a +rifle barrel. At the end of her third circle she sat down on her +haunches, and Kazan went close to the hummock and sniffed. Under that +bulge in the snow, as well as in the tepee, there was death. They slunk +away, their ears flattened and their tails drooping until they trailed +the snow, and did not stop until they reached their swamp home. Even +there Gray Wolf still sniffed the horror of the plague, and her muscles +twitched and shivered as she lay close at Kazan's side. + +That night the big white moon had around its edge a crimson rim. It +meant cold--intense cold. Always the plague came in the days of greatest +cold--the lower the temperature the more terrible its havoc. It grew +steadily colder that night, and the increased chill penetrated to the +heart of the windfall, and drew Kazan and Gray Wolf closer together. +With dawn, which came at about eight o'clock, Kazan and his blind mate +sallied forth into the day. It was fifty degrees below zero. About them +the trees cracked with reports like pistol-shots. In the thickest spruce +the partridges were humped into round balls of feathers. The snow-shoe +rabbits had burrowed deep under the snow or to the heart of the heaviest +windfalls. Kazan and Gray Wolf found few fresh trails, and after an +hour of fruitless hunting they returned to their lair. Kazan, dog-like, +had buried the half of a rabbit two or three days before, and they dug +this out of the snow and ate the frozen flesh. + +All that day it grew colder--steadily colder. The night that followed +was cloudless, with a white moon and brilliant stars. The temperature +had fallen another ten degrees, and nothing was moving. Traps were never +sprung on such nights, for even the furred things--the mink, and the +ermine, and the lynx--lay snug in the holes and the nests they had found +for themselves. An increasing hunger was not strong enough to drive +Kazan and Gray Wolf from their windfall. The next day there was no break +in the terrible cold, and toward noon Kazan set out on a hunt for meat, +leaving Gray Wolf in the windfall. Being three-quarters dog, food was +more necessary to Kazan than to his mate. Nature has fitted the +wolf-breed for famine, and in ordinary temperature Gray Wolf could have +lived for a fortnight without food. At sixty degrees below zero she +could exist a week, perhaps ten days. Only thirty hours had passed +sinee they had devoured the last of the frozen rabbit, and she was quite +satisfied to remain in their snug retreat. + +But Kazan was hungry. He began to hunt in the face of the wind, +traveling toward the burned plain. He nosed about every windfall that he +came to, and investigated the thickets. A thin shot-like snow had +fallen, and in this--from the windfall to the burn--he found but a +single trail, and that was the trail of an ermine. Under a windfall he +caught the warm scent of a rabbit, but the rabbit was as safe from him +there as were the partridges in the trees, and after an hour of futile +digging and gnawing he gave up his effort to reach it. For three hours +he had hunted when he returned to Gray Wolf. He was exhausted. While +Gray Wolf, with the instinct of the wild, had saved her own strength and +energy, Kazan had been burning up his reserve forces, and was hungrier +than ever. + +The moon rose clear and brilliant in the sky again that night, and Kazan +set out once more on the hunt. He urged Gray Wolf to accompany him, +whining for her outside the windfall--returning for her twice--but +Gray Wolf laid her ears aslant and refused to move. The temperature had +now fallen to sixty-five or seventy degrees below zero, and with it +there came from the north an increasing wind, making the night one in +which human life could not have existed for an hour. By midnight Kazan +was back under the windfall. The wind grew stronger. It began to wail in +mournful dirges over the swamp, and then it burst in fierce shrieking +volleys, with intervals of quiet between. These were the first warnings +from the great barrens that lay between the last lines of timber and the +Arctic. With morning the storm burst in all its fury from out of the +north, and Gray Wolf and Kazan lay close together and shivered as they +listened to the roar of it over the windfall. Once Kazan thrust his head +and shoulders out from the shelter of the fallen trees, but the storm +drove him back. Everything that possessed life had sought shelter, +according to its way and instinct. The furred creatures like the mink +and the ermine were safest, for during the warmer hunting days they were +of the kind that cached meat. The wolves and the foxes had sought out +the windfalls, and the rocks. Winged things, with the exception of the +owls, who were a tenth part body and nine-tenths feathers, burrowed +under snow-drifts or found shelter in thick spruce. To the hoofed and +horned animals the storm meant greatest havoc. The deer, the caribou and +the moose could not crawl under windfalls or creep between rocks. The +best they could do was to lie down in the lee of a drift, and allow +themselves to be covered deep with the protecting snow. Even then they +could not keep their shelter long, for they had to _eat_. For eighteen +hours out of the twenty-four the moose had to feed to keep himself alive +during the winter. His big stomach demanded quantity, and it took him +most of his time to nibble from the tops of bushes the two or three +bushels he needed a day. The caribou required almost as much--the deer +least of the three. + +And the storm kept up that day, and the next, and still a third--three +days and three nights--and the third day and night there came with it a +stinging, shot-like snow that fell two feet deep on the level, and in +drifts of eight and ten. It was the "heavy snow" of the Indians--the +snow that lay like lead on the earth, and under which partridges and +rabbits were smothered in thousands. + +On the fourth day after the beginning of the storm Kazan and Gray Wolf +issued forth from the windfall. There was no longer a wind--no more +falling snow. The whole world lay under a blanket of unbroken white, and +it was intensely cold. + +The plague had worked its havoc with men. Now had come the days of +famine and death for the wild things. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf had been a hundred and forty hours without food. To +Gray Wolf this meant acute discomfort, a growing weakness. To Kazan it +was starvation. Six days and six nights of fasting had drawn in their +ribs and put deep hollows in front of their hindquarters. Kazan's eyes +were red, and they narrowed to slits as he looked forth into the day. +Gray Wolf followed him this time when he went out on the hard snow. +Eagerly and hopefully they began the hunt in the bitter cold. They swung +around the edge of the windfall, where there had always been rabbits. +There were no tracks now, and no scent. They continued in a horseshoe +circle through the swamp, and the only scent they caught was that of a +snow-owl perched up in a spruce. They came to the burn and turned back, +hunting the opposite side of the swamp. On this side there was a ridge. +They climbed the ridge, and from the cap of it looked out over a world +that was barren of life. Ceaselessly Gray Wolf sniffed the air, but she +gave no signal to Kazan. On the top of the ridge Kazan stood panting. +His endurance was gone. On their return through the swamp he stumbled +over an obstacle which he tried to clear with a jump. Hungrier and +weaker, they returned to the windfall. The night that followed was +clear, and brilliant with stars. They hunted the swamp again. Nothing +was moving--save one other creature, and that was a fox. Instinct told +them that it was futile to follow him. + +It was then that the old thought of the cabin returned to Kazan. Two +things the cabin had always meant to him--warmth and food. And far +beyond the ridge was the cabin, where he and Gray Wolf had howled at the +scent of death. He did not think of man--or of that mystery which he had +howled at. He thought only of the cabin, and the cabin had always meant +food. He set off in a straight line for the ridge, and Gray Wolf +followed. They crossed the ridge and the burn beyond, and entered the +edge of a second swamp. Kazan was hunting listlessly now. His head hung +low. His bushy tail dragged in the snow. He was intent on the +cabin--only the cabin. It was his last hope. But Gray Wolf was still +alert, taking in the wind, and lifting her head whenever Kazan stopped +to snuffle his chilled nose in the snow. At last it came--the scent! +Kazan had moved on, but he stopped when he found that Gray Wolf was not +following. All the strength that was in his starved body revealed itself +in a sudden rigid tenseness as he looked at his mate. Her forefeet were +planted firmly to the east; her slim gray head was reaching out for the +scent; her body trembled. + +Then--suddenly--they heard a sound, and with a whining cry Kazan set out +in its direction, with Gray Wolf at his flank. The scent grew stronger +and stronger in Gray Wolf's nostrils, and soon it came to Kazan. It was +not the scent of a rabbit or a partridge. It was big game. They +approached cautiously, keeping full in the wind. The swamp grew +thicker, the spruce more dense, and now--from a hundred yards ahead of +them--there came a crashing of locked and battling horns. Ten seconds +more they climbed over a snowdrift, and Kazan stopped and dropped flat +on his belly. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, her blind eyes +turned to what she could smell but could not see. + +Fifty yards from them a number of moose had gathered for shelter in the +thick spruce. They had eaten clear a space an acre in extent. The trees +were cropped bare as high as they could reach, and the snow was beaten +hard under their feet. There were six animals in the acre, two of them +bulls--and these bulls were fighting, while three cows and a yearling +were huddled in a group watching the mighty duel. Just before the storm +a young bull, sleek, three-quarters grown, and with the small compact +antlers of a four-year-old, had led the three cows and the yearling to +this sheltered spot among the spruce. Until last night he had been +master of the herd. During the night the older bull had invaded his +dominion. The invader was four times as old as the young bull. He was +half again as heavy. His huge palmate horns, knotted and irregular--but +massive--spoke of age. A warrior of a hundred fights, he had not +hesitated to give battle in his effort to rob the younger bull of his +home and family. Three times they had fought since dawn, and the +hard-trodden snow was red with blood. The smell of it came to Kazan's +and Gray Wolf's nostrils. Kazan sniffed hungrily. Queer sounds rolled up +and down in Gray Wolf's throat, and she licked her jaws. + +For a moment the two fighters drew a few yards apart, and stood with +lowered heads. The old bull had not yet won victory. The younger bull +represented youth and endurance; in the older bull those things were +pitted against craft, greater weight, maturer strength--and a head and +horns that were like a battering ram. But in that great hulk of the +older bull there was one other thing--age. His huge sides were panting. +His nostrils were as wide as bells. Then, as if some invisible spirit of +the arena had given the signal, the animals came together again. The +crash of their horns could have been heard half a mile away, and under +twelve hundred pounds of flesh and bone the younger hull went plunging +back upon his haunches. Then was when youth displayed itself. In an +instant he was up, and locking horns with his adversary. Twenty times he +had done this, and each attack had seemed filled with increasing +strength. And now, as if realizing that the last moments of the last +fight had come, he twisted the old bull's neck and fought as he had +never fought before. Kazan and Gray Wolf both heard the sharp crack that +followed--as if a dry stick had been stepped upon and broken. It was +February, and the hoofed animals were already beginning to shed their +horns--especially the older bulls, whose palmate growths drop first. +This fact gave victory to the younger bull in the blood-stained arena a +few yards from Gray Wolf and Kazan. From its socket in the old bull's +skull one of his huge antlers broke with that sharp snapping sound, and +in another moment four inches of stiletto-like horn buried itself back +of his foreleg. In an instant all hope and courage left him, and he +swung backward yard by yard, with the younger bull prodding his neck and +shoulders until blood dripped from him in little streams. At the edge +of the clearing he flung himself free and crashed off into the forest. + +The younger bull did not pursue. He tossed his head, and stood for a few +moments with heaving sides and dilated nostrils, facing in the direction +his vanquished foe had taken. Then he turned, and trotted back to the +still motionless cows and yearling. + +Kazan and Gray Wolf were quivering. Gray Wolf slunk back from the edge +of the clearing, and Kazan followed. No longer were they interested in +the cows and the young bull. From that clearing they had seen meat +driven forth--meat that was beaten in fight, and bleeding. Every +instinct of the wild pack returned to Gray Wolf now--and in Kazan the +mad desire to taste the blood he smelled. Swiftly they turned toward the +blood-stained trail of the old bull, and when they came to it they found +it spattered red. Kazan's jaws dripped as the hot scent drove the blood +like veins of fire through his weakened body. His eyes were reddened by +starvation, and in them there was a light now that they had never known +even in the days of the wolf-pack. + +He set off swiftly, almost forgetful of Gray Wolf. But his mate no +longer required his flank for guidance. With her nose close to the trail +she ran--ran as she had run in the long and thrilling hunts before +blindness came. Half a mile from the spruce thicket they came upon the +old bull. He had sought shelter behind a clump of balsam, and he stood +over a growing pool of blood in the snow. He was still breathing hard. +His massive head, grotesque now with its one antler, was drooping. +Flecks of blood dropped from his distended nostrils. Even then, with the +old bull weakened by starvation, exhaustion and loss of blood, a +wolf-pack would have hung back before attacking. Where they would have +hesitated, Kazan leaped in with a snarling cry. For an instant his fangs +sunk into the thick hide of the bull's throat. Then he was flung +back--twenty feet. Hunger gnawing at his vitals robbed him of all +caution, and he sprang to the attack again--full at the bull's +front--while Gray Wolf crept up unseen behind, seeking in her blindness +the vulnerable part which nature had not taught Kazan to find. + +This time Kazan was caught fairly on the broad palmate leaf of the +bull's antler, and he was flung back again, half stunned. In that same +moment Gray Wolf's long white teeth cut like knives through one of the +bull's rope-like hamstrings. For thirty seconds she kept the hold, while +the bull plunged wildly in his efforts to trample her underfoot. Kazan +was quick to learn, still quicker to be guided by Gray Wolf, and he +leaped in again, snapping for a hold on the bulging cord just above the +knee. He missed, and as he lunged forward on his shoulders Gray Wolf was +flung off. But she had accomplished her purpose. Beaten in open battle +with one of his kind, and now attacked by a still deadlier foe, the old +bull began to retreat. As he went, one hip sank under him at every step. +The tendon of his left leg was bitten half through. + +Without being able to see, Gray Wolf seemed to realize what had +happened. Again she was the pack-wolf--with all the old wolf strategy. +Twice flung back by the old bull's horn, Kazan knew better than to +attack openly again. Gray Wolf trotted after the bull, but he remained +behind for a moment to lick up hungrily mouthfuls of the blood-soaked +snow. Then he followed, and ran close against Gray Wolf's side, fifty +yards behind the bull. There was more blood in the trail now--a thin red +ribbon of it. Fifteen minutes later the bull stopped again, and faced +about, his great head lowered. His eyes were red. There was a droop to +his neck and shoulders that spoke no longer of the unconquerable +fighting spirit that had been a part of him for nearly a score of years. +No longer was he lord of the wilderness about him; no longer was there +defiance in the poise of his splendid head, or the flash of eager fire +in his bloodshot eyes. His breath came with a gasping sound that was +growing more and more distinct. A hunter would have known what it meant. +The stiletto-point of the younger bull's antler had gone home, and the +old bull's lungs were failing him. More than once Gray Wolf had heard +that sound in the early days of her hunting with the pack, and she +understood. Slowly she began to circle about the wounded monarch at a +distance of about twenty yards. Kazan kept at her side. + +Once--twice--twenty times they made that slow circle, and with each turn +they made the old bull turned, and his breath grew heavier and his head +drooped lower. Noon came, and was followed by the more intense cold of +the last half of the day. Twenty circles became a hundred--two +hundred--and more. Under Gray Wolf's and Kazan's feet the snow grew hard +in the path they made. Under the old bull's widespread hoofs the snow +was no longer white--but red. A thousand times before this unseen +tragedy of the wilderness had been enacted. It was an epoch of that life +where life itself means the survival of the fittest, where to live means +to kill, and to die means to perpetuate life. At last, in that steady +and deadly circling of Gray Wolf and Kazan, there came a time when the +old bull did not turn--then a second, a third and a fourth time, and +Gray Wolf seemed to know. With Kazan she drew back from the hard-beaten +trail, and they flattened themselves on their bellies under a dwarf +spruce--and waited. For many minutes the bull stood motionless, his +hamstrung quarter sinking lower and lower. And then with a deep +blood-choked gasp he sank down. + +For a long time Kazan and Gray Wolf did not move, and when at last they +returned to the beaten trail the bull's heavy head was resting on the +snow. Again they began to circle, and now the circle narrowed foot by +foot, until only ten yards--then nine--then eight--separated them from +their prey. The bull attempted to rise, and failed. Gray Wolf heard the +effort. She heard him sink back and suddenly she leaped in swiftly and +silently from behind. Her sharp fangs buried themselves in the bull's +nostrils, and with the first instinct of the husky, Kazan sprang for a +throat hold. This time he was not flung off. It was Gray Wolf's terrible +hold that gave him time to tear through the half-inch hide, and to bury +his teeth deeper and deeper, until at last they reached the jugular. A +gush of warm blood spurted into his face. But he did not let go. Just as +he had held to the jugular of his first buck on that moonlight night a +long time ago, so he held to the old bull now. It was Gray Wolf who +unclamped his jaws. She drew back, sniffing the air, listening. Then, +slowly, she raised her head, and through the frozen and starving +wilderness there went her wailing triumphant cry--the call to meat. + +For them the days of famine had passed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE RIGHT OF FANG + + +After the fight Kazan lay down exhausted in the blood-stained snow, +while faithful Gray Wolf, still filled with the endurance of her wild +wolf breed, tore fiercely at the thick skin on the bull's neck to lay +open the red flesh. When she had done this she did not eat, but ran to +Kazan's side and whined softly as she muzzled him with her nose. After +that they feasted, crouching side by side at the bull's neck and tearing +at the warm sweet flesh. + +The last pale light of the northern day was fading swiftly into night +when they drew back, gorged until there were no longer hollows in their +sides. The faint wind died away. The clouds that had hung in the sky +during the day drifted eastward, and the moon shone brilliant and clear. +For an hour the night continued to grow lighter. To the brilliance of +the moon and the stars there was added now the pale fires of the aurora +borealis, shivering and flashing over the Pole. + +Its hissing crackling monotone, like the creaking of steel +sledge-runners on frost-filled snow, came faintly to the ears of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. + +As yet they had not gone a hundred yards from the dead bull, and at the +first sound of that strange mystery in the northern skies they stopped +and listened to it, alert and suspicious. Then they laid their ears +aslant and trotted slowly back to the meat they had killed. Instinct +told them that it was theirs only by right of fang. They had fought to +kill it. And it was in the law of the wild that they would have to fight +to keep it. In good hunting days they would have gone on and wandered +under the moon and the stars. But long days and nights of starvation had +taught them something different now. + +On that clear and stormless night following the days of plague and +famine, a hundred thousand hungry creatures came out from their retreats +to hunt for food. For eighteen hundred miles east and west and a +thousand miles north and south, slim gaunt-bellied creatures hunted +under the moon and the stars. Something told Kazan and Gray Wolf that +this hunt was on, and never for an instant did they cease their +vigilance. At last they lay down at the edge of the spruce thicket, and +waited. Gray Wolf muzzled Kazan gently with her blind face. The uneasy +whine in her throat was a warning to him. Then she sniffed the air, and +listened--sniffed and listened. + +Suddenly every muscle in their bodies grew rigid. Something living had +passed near them, something that they could not see or hear, and +scarcely scent. It came again, as mysterious as a shadow, and then out +of the air there floated down as silently as a huge snowflake a great +white owl. Kazan saw the hungry winged creature settle on the bull's +shoulder. Like a flash he was out from his cover, Gray Wolf a yard +behind him. With an angry snarl he lunged at the white robber, and his +jaws snapped on empty air. His leap carried him clean over the bull. He +turned, but the owl was gone. + +Nearly all of his old strength had returned to him now. He trotted about +the bull, the hair along his spine bristling like a brush, his eyes +wide and menacing. He snarled at the still air. His jaws clicked, and he +sat back on his haunches and faced the blood-stained trail that the +moose had left before he died. Again that instinct as infallible as +reason told him that danger would come from there. + +Like a red ribbon the trail ran back through the wilderness. The little +swift-moving ermine were everywhere this night, looking like white rats +as they dodged about in the moonlight. They were first to find the +trail, and with all the ferocity of their blood-eating nature followed +it with quick exciting leaps. A fox caught the scent of it a quarter of +a mile to windward, and came nearer. From out of a deep windfall a +beady-eyed, thin-bellied fisher-cat came forth, and stopped with his +feet in the crimson ribbon. + +It was the fisher-cat that brought Kazan out; from under his cover of +spruce again. In the moonlight there was a sharp quick fight, a snarling +and scratching, a cat-like yowl of pain, and the fisher forgot his +hunger in flight. Kazan returned to Gray Wolf with a lacerated and +bleeding nose. Gray Wolf licked it sympathetically, while Kazan stood +rigid and listening. + +The fox swung swiftly away with the wind, warned by the sounds of +conflict. He was not a fighter, but a murderer who killed from behind, +and a little later he leaped upon an owl and tore it into bits for the +half-pound of flesh within the mass of feathers. + +But nothing could drive back those little white outlaws of the +wilderness--the ermine. They would have stolen between the feet of man +to get at the warm flesh and blood of the freshly killed bull. Kazan +hunted them savagely. They were too quick for him, more like elusive +flashes in the moonlight than things of life. They burrowed under the +old bull's body and fed while he raved and filled his mouth with snow. +Gray Wolf sat placidly on her haunches. The little ermine did not +trouble her, and after a time Kazan realized this, and flung himself +down beside her, panting and exhausted. + +For a long time after that the night was almost unbroken by sound. Once +in the far distance there came the cry of a wolf, and now and then, to +punctuate the deathly silence, the snow owl hooted in blood-curdling +protest from his home in the spruce-tops. The moon was straight above +the old bull when Gray Wolf scented the first real danger. Instantly she +gave the warning to Kazan and faced the bloody trail, her lithe body +quivering, her fangs gleaming in the starlight, a snarling whine in her +throat. Only in the face of their deadliest enemy, the lynx--the +terrible fighter who had blinded her long ago in that battle on the Sun +Rock!--did she give such warning as this to Kazan. He sprang ahead of +her, ready for battle even before he caught the scent of the gray +beautiful creature of death stealing over the trail. + +Then came the interruption. From a mile away there burst forth a single +fierce long-drawn howl. + +After all, that was the cry of the true master of the wilderness--the +wolf. It was the cry of hunger. It was the cry that sent men's blood +running more swiftly through their veins, that brought the moose and the +deer to their feet shivering in every limb--the cry that wailed like a +note of death through swamp and forest and over the snow-smothered +ridges until its faintest echoes reached for miles into the starlit +night. + +There was silence, and in that awesome stillness Kazan and Gray Wolf +stood shoulder to shoulder facing the cry, and in response to that cry +there worked within them a strange and mystic change, for what they had +heard was not a warning or a menace but the call of Brotherhood. Away +off there--beyond the lynx and the fox and the fisher-cat, were the +creatures of their kind, the wild-wolf pack, to which the right to all +flesh and blood was common--in which existed that savage socialism of +the wilderness, the Brotherhood of the Wolf. And Gray Wolf, setting back +on her haunches, sent forth the response to that cry--a wailing +triumphant note that told her hungry brethren there was feasting at the +end of the trail. + +And the lynx, between those two cries, sneaked off into the wide and +moonlit spaces of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + +On their haunches Kazan and Gray Wolf waited. Five minutes passed, +ten--fifteen--and Gray Wolf became uneasy. No response had followed her +call. Again she howled, with Kazan quivering and listening beside her, +and again there followed that dead stillness of the night. This was not +the way of the pack. She knew that it had not gone beyond the reach of +her voice and its silence puzzled her. And then in a flash it came to +them both that the pack, or the single wolf whose cry they had heard, +was very near them. The scent was warm. A few moments later Kazan saw a +moving object in the moonlight. It was followed by another, and still +another, until there were five slouching in a half-circle about them, +seventy yards away. Then they laid themselves flat in the snow and were +motionless. + +A snarl turned Kazan's eyes to Gray Wolf. His blind mate had drawn +back. Her white fangs gleamed menacingly in the starlight. Her ears were +flat. Kazan was puzzled. Why was she signaling danger to him when it was +the wolf, and not the lynx, out there in the snow? And why did the +wolves not come in and feast? Slowly he moved toward them, and Gray Wolf +called to him with her whine. He paid no attention to her, but went on, +stepping lightly, his head high in the air, his spine bristling. + +In the scent of the strangers, Kazan was catching something now that was +strangely familiar. It drew him toward them more swiftly and when at +last he stopped twenty yards from where the little group lay flattened +in the snow, his thick brush waved slightly. One of the animals sprang +up and approached. The others followed and in another moment Kazan was +in the midst of them, smelling and smelled, and wagging his tail. They +were dogs, and not wolves. + +In some lonely cabin in the wilderness their master had died, and they +had taken to the forests. They still bore signs of the sledge-traces. +About their necks were moose-hide collars. The hair was worn short at +their flanks, and one still dragged after him three feet of corded +babiche trace. Their eyes gleamed red and hungry in the glow of the moon +and the stars. They were thin, and gaunt and starved, and Kazan suddenly +turned and trotted ahead of them to the side of the dead bull. Then he +fell back and sat proudly on his haunches beside Gray Wolf, listening to +the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh as the starved pack +feasted. + +Gray Wolf slunk closer to Kazan. She muzzled his neck and Kazan gave her +a swift dog-like caress of his tongue, assuring her that all was well. +She flattened herself in the snow when the dogs had finished and came up +in their dog way to sniff at her, and make closer acquaintance with +Kazan. Kazan towered over her, guarding her. One huge red-eyed dog who +still dragged the bit of babiche trace muzzled Gray Wolf's soft neck for +a fraction of a second too long, and Kazan uttered a savage snarl of +warning. The dog drew back, and for a moment their fangs gleamed over +Gray Wolf's blind face. It was the Challenge of the Breed. + +The big husky was the leader of the pack, and if one of the other dogs +had snarled at him, as Kazan snarled he would have leaped at his throat. +But in Kazan, standing fierce and half wild over Gray Wolf, he +recognized none of the serfdom of the sledge-dogs. It was master facing +master; in Kazan it was more than that for he was Gray Wolf's mate. In +an instant more he would have leaped over her body to have fought for +her, more than for the right of leadership. But the big husky turned +away sullenly, growling, still snarling, and vented his rage by nipping +fiercely at the flank of one of his sledge-mates. + +Gray Wolf understood what had happened, though she could not see. She +shrank closer to Kazan. She knew that the moon and the stars had looked +down on that thing that always meant death--the challenge to the right +of mate. With her luring coyness, whining and softly muzzling his +shoulder and neck, she tried to draw Kazan away from the pad-beaten +circle in which the bull lay. Kazan's answer was an ominous rolling of +smothered thunder deep down in his throat. He lay down beside her, +licked her blind face swiftly, and faced the stranger dogs. + +The moon sank lower and lower and at last dropped behind the western +forests. The stars grew paler. One by one they faded from the sky and +after a time there followed the cold gray dawn of the North. In that +dawn the big husky leader rose from the hole he had made in the snow and +returned to the bull. Kazan, alert, was on his feet in an instant and +stood also close to the bull. The two circled ominously, their heads +lowered, their crests bristling. The husky drew away, and Kazan crouched +at the bull's neck and began tearing at the frozen flesh. He was not +hungry. But in this way he showed his right to the flesh, his defiance +of the right of the big husky. + +For a few seconds he forgot Gray Wolf. The husky had slipped back like a +shadow and now he stood again over Gray Wolf, sniffing her neck and +body. Then he whined. In that whine were the passion, the invitation, +the demand of the Wild. So quickly that the eye could scarcely follow +her movement faithful Gray Wolf sank her gleaming fangs in the husky's +shoulder. + +A gray streak--nothing more tangible than a streak of gray, silent and +terrible, shot through the dawn-gloom. It was Kazan. He came without a +snarl, without a cry, and in a moment he and the husky were in the +throes of terrific battle. + +The four other huskies ran in quickly and stood waiting a dozen paces +from the combatants. Gray Wolf lay crouched on her belly. The giant +husky and the quarter-strain wolf-dog were not fighting like sledge-dog +or wolf. For a few moments rage and hatred made them fight like +mongrels. Both had holds. Now one was down, and now the other, and so +swiftly did they change their positions that the four waiting +sledge-dogs were puzzled and stood motionless. Under other conditions +they would have leaped upon the first of the fighters to be thrown upon +his back and torn him to pieces. That was the way of the wolf and the +wolf-dog. But now they stood back, hesitating and fearful. + +The big husky had never been beaten in battle. Great Dane ancestors had +given him a huge bulk and a jaw that could crush an ordinary dog's head. +But in Kazan he was meeting not only the dog and the wolf, but all that +was best in the two. And Kazan had the advantage of a few hours of rest +and a full stomach. More than that, he was fighting for Gray Wolf. His +fangs had sunk deep in the husky's shoulder, and the husky's long teeth +met through the hide and flesh of his neck. An inch deeper, and they +would have pierced his jugular. Kazan knew this, as he crunched his +enemy's shoulder-bone, and every instant--even in their fiercest +struggling--he was guarding against a second and more successful lunge +of those powerful jaws. + +At last the lunge came, and quicker than the wolf itself Kazan freed +himself and leaped back. His chest dripped blood, but he did not feel +the hurt. They began slowly to circle, and now the watching sledge-dogs +drew a step or two nearer, and their jaws drooled nervously and their +red eyes glared as they waited for the fatal moment. Their eyes were on +the big husky. He became the pivot of Kazan's wider circle now, and he +limped as he turned. His shoulder was broken. His ears were flattened +as he watched Kazan. + +Kazan's ears were erect, and his feet touched the snow lightly. All his +fighting cleverness and all his caution had returned to him. The blind +rage of a few moments was gone and he fought now as he had fought his +deadliest enemy, the long-clawed lynx. Five times he circled around the +husky, and then like a shot he was in, sending his whole weight against +the husky's shoulder, with the momentum of a ten-foot leap behind it. +This time he did not try for a hold, but slashed at the husky's jaws. It +was the deadliest of all attacks when that merciless tribunal of death +stood waiting for the first fall of the vanquished. The huge dog was +thrown from his feet. For a fatal moment he rolled upon his side and in +the moment his four sledge-mates were upon him. All of their hatred of +the weeks and months in which the long-fanged leader had bullied them in +the traces was concentrated upon him now and he was literally torn into +pieces. + +Kazan pranced to Gray Wolf's side and with a joyful whine she laid her +head over his neck. Twice he had fought the Fight of Death for her. +Twice he had won. And in her blindness Gray Wolf's soul--if soul she +had--rose in exultation to the cold gray sky, and her breast panted +against Kazan's shoulder as she listened to the crunching of fangs in +the flesh and bone of the foe her lord and master had overthrown. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CALL + + +Followed days of feasting on the frozen flesh of the old bull. In vain +Gray Wolf tried to lure Kazan off into the forests and the swamps. Day +by day the temperature rose. There was hunting now. And Gray Wolf wanted +to be alone--with Kazan. But with Kazan, as with most men, leadership +and power roused new sensations. And he was the leader of the dog-pack, +as he had once been a leader among the wolves. Not only Gray Wolf +followed at his flank now, but the four huskies trailed behind him. Once +more he was experiencing that triumph and strange thrill that he had +almost forgotten and only Gray Wolf, in that eternal night of her +blindness, felt with dread foreboding the danger into which his newly +achieved czarship might lead him. + +For three days and three nights they remained in the neighborhood of the +dead moose, ready to defend it against others, and yet each day and +each night growing less vigilant in their guard. Then came the fourth +night, on which they killed a young doe. Kazan led in that chase and for +the first time, in the excitement of having the pack at his back, he +left his blind mate behind. When they came to the kill he was the first +to leap at its soft throat. And not until he had begun to tear at the +doe's flesh did the others dare to eat. He was master. He could send +them back with a snarl. At the gleam of his fangs they crouched +quivering on their bellies in the snow. + +Kazan's blood was fomented with brute exultation, and the excitement and +fascination that came in the possession of new power took the place of +Gray Wolf each day a little more. She came in half an hour after the +kill, and there was no longer the lithesome alertness to her slender +legs, or gladness in the tilt of her ears or the poise of her head. She +did not eat much of the doe. Her blind face was turned always in Kazan's +direction. Wherever he moved she followed with her unseeing eyes, as if +expecting each moment his old signal to her--that low throat-note that +had called to her so often when they were alone in the wilderness. + +In Kazan, as leader of the pack, there was working a curious change. If +his mates had been wolves it would not have been difficult for Gray Wolf +to have lured him away. But Kazan was among his own kind. He was a dog. +And they were dogs. Fires that had burned down and ceased to warm him +flamed up in him anew. In his life with Gray Wolf one thing had +oppressed him as it could not oppress her, and that thing was +loneliness. Nature had created him of that kind which requires +companionship--not of one but of many. It had given him birth that he +might listen to and obey the commands of the voice of man. He had grown +to hate men, but of the dogs--his kind--he was a part. He had been happy +with Gray Wolf, happier than he had ever been in the companionship of +men and his blood-brothers. But he had been a long time separated from +the life that had once been his and the call of blood made him for a +time forget. And only Gray Wolf, with that wonderful super-instinct +which nature was giving her in place of her lost sight, foresaw the end +to which it was leading him. + +Each day the temperature continued to rise until when the sun was +warmest the snow began to thaw a little. This was two weeks after the +fight near the bull. Gradually the pack had swung eastward, until it was +now fifty miles east and twenty miles south of the old home under the +windfall. More than ever Gray Wolf began to long for their old nest +under the fallen trees. Again with those first promises of spring in +sunshine and air, there was coming also for the second time in her life +the promise of approaching motherhood. + +But her efforts to draw Kazan back were unavailing, and in spite of her +protest he wandered each day a little farther east and south at the head +of his pack. + +Instinct impelled the four huskies to move in that direction. They had +not yet been long enough a part of the wild to forget the necessity of +man and in that direction there was man. In that direction, and not far +from them now, was the Hudson Bay Company's post to which they and their +dead master owed their allegiance. Kazan did not know this, but one day +something happened to bring back visions and desires that widened still +more the gulf between him and Gray Wolf. + +They had come to the cap of a ridge when something stopped them. It was +a man's voice crying shrilly that word of long ago that had so often +stirred the blood in Kazan's own veins--"_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! +m'hoosh!"_--and from the ridge they looked down upon the open space of +the plain, where a team of six dogs was trotting ahead of a sledge, with +a man running behind them, urging them on at every other step with that +cry of "_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!"_ + +Trembling and undecided, the four huskies and the wolf-dog stood on the +ridge with Gray Wolf cringing behind them. Not until man and dogs and +sledge had disappeared did they move, and then they trotted down to the +trail and sniffed at it whiningly and excitedly. For a mile or two they +followed it, Kazan and his mates going fearlessly in the trail. Gray +Wolf hung back, traveling twenty yards to the right of them, with the +hot man-scent driving the blood feverishly through her brain. Only her +love for Kazan--and the faith she still had in him--kept her that near. + +At the edge of a swamp Kazan halted and turned away from the trail. With +the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion +which nothing could quite wipe out--the suspicion that was an +inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf. Gray Wolf whined joyfully +when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her +shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side. + +The "slush" snows followed fast after this. And the "slush" snows meant +spring--and the emptying of the wilderness of human life. Kazan and his +mates soon began to scent the presence and the movement of this life. +They were now within thirty miles of the post. For a hundred miles on +all sides of them the trappers were moving in with their late winter's +catch of furs. From east and west, south and north, all trails led to +the post. The pack was caught in the mesh of them. For a week not a day +passed that they did not cross a fresh trail, and sometimes two or +three. + +Gray Wolf was haunted by constant fear. In her blindness she knew that +they were surrounded by the menace of men. To Kazan what was coming to +pass had more and more ceased to fill him with fear and caution. Three +times that week he heard the shouts of men--and once he heard a white +man's laughter and the barking of dogs as their master tossed them their +daily feed of fish. In the air he caught the pungent scent of camp-fires +and one night, in the far distance, he heard a wild snatch of song, +followed by the yelping and barking of a dog-pack. + +Slowly and surely the lure of man drew him nearer to the post--a mile +to-night, two miles to-morrow, but always nearer. And Gray Wolf, +fighting her losing fight to the end, sensed in the danger-filled air +the nearness of that hour when he would respond to the final call and +she would be left alone. + +These were days of activity and excitement at the fur company's post, +the days of accounting, of profit and of pleasure;--the days when the +wilderness poured in its treasure of fur, to be sent a little later to +London and Paris and the capitals of Europe. And this year there was +more than the usual interest in the foregathering of the forest people. +The plague had wrought its terrible havoc, and not until the fur-hunters +had come to answer to the spring roll-call would it be known accurately +who had lived and who had died. + +The Chippewans and half-breeds from the south began to arrive first, +with their teams of mongrel curs, picked up along the borders of +civilization. Close after them came the hunters from the western barren +lands, bringing with them loads of white fox and caribou skins, and an +army of big-footed, long-legged Mackenzie hounds that pulled like horses +and wailed like whipped puppies when the huskies and Eskimo dogs set +upon them. Packs of fierce Labrador dogs, never vanquished except by +death, came from close to Hudson's Bay. Team after team of little yellow +and gray Eskimo dogs, as quick with their fangs as were their black and +swift-running masters with their hands and feet, met the much larger and +dark-colored Malemutes from the Athabasca. Enemies of all these packs of +fierce huskies trailed in from all sides, fighting, snapping and +snarling, with the lust of killing deep born in them from their wolf +progenitors. + +There was no cessation in the battle of the fangs. It began with the +first brute arrivals. It continued from dawn through the day and around +the camp-fires at night. There was never an end to the strife between +the dogs, and between the men and the dogs. The snow was trailed and +stained with blood and the scent of it added greater fierceness to the +wolf-breeds. + +Half a dozen battles were fought to the death each day and night. Those +that died were chiefly the south-bred curs--mixtures of mastiff, Great +Dane, and sheep-dog--and the fatally slow Mackenzie hounds. About the +post rose the smoke of a hundred camp-fires, and about these fires +gathered the women and the children of the hunters. When the snow was no +longer fit for sledging, Williams, the factor, noted that there were +many who had not come, and the accounts of these he later scratched out +of his ledgers knowing that they were victims of the plague. + +At last came the night of the Big Carnival, For weeks and months women +and children and men had been looking forward to this. In scores of +forest cabins, in smoke-blackened tepees, and even in the frozen homes +of the little Eskimos, anticipation of this wild night of pleasure had +given an added zest to life. It was the Big Circus--the good time given +twice each year by the company to its people. + +This year, to offset the memory of plague and death, the factor had put +forth unusual exertions. His hunters had killed four fat caribou. In the +clearing there were great piles of dry logs, and in the center of all +there rose eight ten-foot tree-butts crotched at the top; and from +crotch to crotch there rested a stout sapling stripped of bark, and on +each sapling was spitted the carcass of a caribou, to be roasted whole +by the heat of the fire beneath. The fires were lighted at dusk, and +Williams himself started the first of those wild songs of the +Northland--the song of the caribou, as the flames leaped up into the +dark night. + + "Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo, + He roas' on high, + Jes' under ze sky. + air-holes beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!" + +"Now!" he yelled. "Now--all together!" And carried away by his +enthusiasm, the forest people awakened from their silence of months, +and the song burst forth in a savage frenzy that reached to the skies. + + * * * * * + +Two miles to the south and west that first thunder of human voice +reached the ears of Kazan and Gray Wolf and the masterless huskies. And +with the voices of men they heard now the excited howlings of dogs. The +huskies faced the direction of the sounds, moving restlessly and +whining. For a few moments Kazan stood as though carven of rock. Then he +turned his head, and his first look was to Gray Wolf. She had slunk back +a dozen feet and lay crouched under the thick cover of a balsam shrub. +Her body, legs and neck were flattened in the snow. She made no sound, +but her lips were drawn back and her teeth shone white. + +Kazan trotted back to her, sniffed at her blind face and whined. Gray +Wolf still did not move. He returned to the dogs and his jaws opened and +closed with a snap. Still more clearly came the wild voice of the +carnival, and no longer to be held back by Kazan's leadership, the four +huskies dropped their heads and slunk like shadows in its direction. +Kazan hesitated, urging Gray Wolf. But not a muscle of Gray Wolf's body +moved. She would have followed him in face of fire but not in face of +man. Not a sound escaped her ears. She heard the quick fall of Kazan's +feet as he left her. In another moment she knew that he was gone. +Then--and not until then--did she lift her head, and from her soft +throat there broke a whimpering cry. + +It was her last call to Kazan. But stronger than that there was running +through Kazan's excited blood the call of man and of dog. The huskies +were far in advance of him now and for a few moments he raced madly to +overtake them. Then he slowed down until he was trotting, and a hundred +yards farther on he stopped. Less than a mile away he could see where +the flames of the great fires were reddening the sky. He gazed back to +see if Gray Wolf was following and then went on until he struck an open +and hard traveled trail. It was beaten with the footprints of men and +dogs, and over it two of the caribou had been dragged a day or two +before. + +At last he came to the thinned out strip of timber that surrounded the +clearing and the flare of the flames was in his eyes. The bedlam of +sound that came to him now was like fire in his brain. He heard the song +and the laughter of men, the shrill cries of women and children, the +barking and snarling and fighting of a hundred dogs. He wanted to rush +out and join them, to become again a part of what he had once been. Yard +by yard he sneaked through the thin timber until he reached the edge of +the clearing. There he stood in the shadow of a spruce and looked out +upon life as he had once lived it, trembling, wistful and yet hesitating +in that final moment. + +A hundred yards away was the savage circle of men and dogs and fire. His +nostrils were filled with the rich aroma of the roasting caribou, and as +he crouched down, still with that wolfish caution that Gray Wolf had +taught him, men with long poles brought the huge carcasses crashing down +upon the melting snow about the fires. In one great rush the horde of +wild revelers crowded in with bared knives, and a snarling mass of dogs +closed in behind them. In another moment he had forgotten Gray Wolf, had +forgotten all that man and the wild had taught him, and like a gray +streak was across the open. + +The dogs were surging back when he reached them, with half a dozen of +the factor's men lashing them in the faces with long caribou-gut whips. +The sting of a lash fell in a fierce cut over an Eskimo dog's shoulder, +and in snapping at the lash his fangs struck Kazan's rump. With +lightning swiftness Kazan returned the cut, and in an instant the jaws +of the dogs had met. In another instant they were down and Kazan had the +Eskimo dog by the throat. + +With shouts the men rushed in. Again and again their whips cut like +knives through the air. Their blows fell on Kazan, who was uppermost, +and as he felt the burning pain of the scourging whips there flooded +through him all at once the fierce memory of the days of old--the days +of the Club and the Lash. He snarled. Slowly he loosened his hold of the +Eskimo dog's throat. And then, out of the mêlée of dogs and men, there +sprang another man--_with a club_! It fell on Kazan's back and the force +of it sent him flat into the snow. It was raised again. Behind the club +there was a face--a brutal, fire-reddened face. It was such a face that +had driven Kazan into the wild, and as the club fell again he evaded the +full weight of its blow and his fangs gleamed like ivory knives. A third +time the club was raised, and this time Kazan met it in mid-air, and his +teeth ripped the length of the man's forearm. + +"Good God!" shrieked the man in pain, and Kazan caught the gleam of a +rifle barrel as he sped toward the forest. A shot followed. Something +like a red-hot coal ran the length of Kazan's hip, and deep in the +forest he stopped to lick at the burning furrow where the bullet had +gone just deep enough to take the skin and hair from his flesh. + + * * * * * + +Gray Wolf was still waiting under the balsam shrub when Kazan returned +to her. Joyously she sprang forth to meet him. Once more the man had +sent back the old Kazan to her. He muzzled her neck and face, and stood +for a few moments with his head resting across her back, listening to +the distant sound. + +Then, with ears laid flat, he set out straight into the north and west. +And now Gray Wolf ran shoulder to shoulder with him like the Gray Wolf +of the days before the dog-pack came; for that wonderful thing that lay +beyond the realm of reason told her that once more she was comrade and +mate, and that their trail that night was leading to their old home +under the windfall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HIS SON + + +It happened that Kazan was to remember three things above all others. He +could never quite forget his old days in the traces, though they were +growing more shadowy and indistinct in his memory as the summers and the +winters passed. Like a dream there came to him a memory of the time he +had gone down to Civilization. Like dreams were the visions that rose +before him now and then of the face of the First Woman, and of the faces +of masters who--to him--had lived ages ago. And never would he quite +forget the Fire, and his fights with man and beast, and his long chases +in the moonlight. But two things were always with him as if they had +been but yesterday, rising clear and unforgetable above all others, like +the two stars in the North that never lost their brilliance. One was +Woman. The other was the terrible fight of that night on the top of the +Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded forever his wild mate, Gray Wolf. +Certain events remain indelibly fixed in the minds of men; and so, in a +not very different way, they remain in the minds of beasts. It takes +neither brain nor reason to measure the depths of sorrow or of +happiness. And Kazan in his unreasoning way knew that contentment and +peace, a full stomach, and caresses and kind words instead of blows had +come to him through Woman, and that comradeship in the wilderness--faith, +loyalty and devotion--were a part of Gray Wolf. The third unforgetable +thing was about to occur in the home they had found for themselves under +the swamp windfall during the days of cold and famine. + +They had left the swamp over a month before when it was smothered deep +in snow. On the day they returned to it the sun was shining warmly in +the first glorious days of spring warmth. Everywhere, big and small, +there were the rushing torrents of melting snows and the crackle of +crumbling ice, the dying cries of thawing rock and earth and tree, and +each night for many nights past the cold pale glow of the aurora +borealis had crept farther and farther toward the Pole in fading glory. +So early as this the poplar buds had begun to swell and the air was +filled with the sweet odor of balsam, spruce and cedar. Where there had +been famine and death and stillness six weeks before, Kazan and Gray +Wolf now stood at the edge of the swamp and breathed the earthy smells +of spring, and listened to the sounds of life. Over their heads a pair +of newly-mated moose-birds fluttered and scolded at them. A big jay sat +pluming himself in the sunshine. Farther in they heard the crack of a +stick broken under a heavy hoof. From the ridge behind them they caught +the raw scent of a mother bear, busy pulling down the tender poplar buds +for her six-weeks-old cubs, born while she was still deep in her winter +sleep. + +In the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air there breathed to +Gray Wolf the mystery of matehood and of motherhood. She whined softly +and rubbed her blind face against Kazan. For days, in her way, she tried +to tell him. More than ever she wanted to curl herself up in that warm +dry nest under the windfall. She had no desire to hunt. The crack of +the dry stick under a cloven hoof and the warm scent of the she-bear and +her cubs roused none of the old instincts in her. She wanted to curl +herself up in the old windfall--and wait. And she tried hard to make +Kazan understand her desire. + +Now that the snow was gone they found that a narrow creek lay between +them and the knoll on which the windfall was situated. Gray Wolf picked +up her ears at the tumult of the little torrent. Since the day of the +Fire, when Kazan and she had saved themselves on the sand-bar, she had +ceased to have the inherent wolf horror of water. She followed +fearlessly, even eagerly, behind Kazan as he sought a place where they +could ford the rushing little stream. On the other side Kazan could see +the big windfall. Gray Wolf could _smell_ it and she whined joyously, +with her blind face turned toward it. A hundred yards up the stream a +big cedar had fallen over it and Kazan began to cross. For a moment Gray +Wolf hesitated, and then followed. Side by side they trotted to the +windfall. With their heads and shoulders in the dark opening to their +nest they scented the air long and cautiously. Then they entered. Kazan +heard Gray Wolf as she flung herself down on the dry floor of the snug +cavern. She was panting, not from exhaustion, but because she was filled +with a sensation of contentment and happiness. In the darkness Kazan's +own jaws fell apart. He, too, was glad to get back to their old home. He +went to Gray Wolf and, panting still harder, she licked his face. It had +but one meaning. And Kazan understood. + +For a moment he lay down beside her, listening, and eyeing the opening +to their nest. Then he began to sniff about the log walls. He was close +to the opening when a sudden fresh scent came to him, and he grew rigid, +and his bristles stood up. The scent was followed by a whimpering, +babyish chatter. A porcupine entered the opening and proceeded to +advance in its foolish fashion, still chattering in that babyish way +that has made its life inviolable at the hands of man. Kazan had heard +that sound before, and like all other beasts had learned to ignore the +presence of the innocuous creature that made it. But just now he did not +stop to consider that what he saw was a porcupine and that at his first +snarl the good-humored little creature would waddle away as fast as it +could, still chattering baby talk to itself. His first reasoning was +that it was a live thing invading the home to which Gray Wolf and he had +just returned. A day later, or perhaps an hour later, he would have +driven it back with a growl. Now he leaped upon it. + +A wild chattering, intermingled with pig-like squeaks, and then a rising +staccato of howls followed the attack. Gray Wolf sprang to the opening. +The porcupine was rolled up in a thousand-spiked ball a dozen feet away, +and she could hear Kazan tearing about in the throes of the direst agony +that can befall a beast of the forests. His face and nose were a mat of +quills. For a few moments he rolled and dug in the wet mold and earth, +pawing madly at the things that pierced his flesh. Then he set off like +all dogs will who have come into contact with the friendly porcupine, +and raced again and again around the windfall, howling at every jump. +Gray Wolf took the matter coolly. It is possible that at times there are +moments of humor in the lives of animals. If so, she saw this one. She +scented the porcupine and she knew that Kazan was full of quills. As +there was nothing to do and nothing to fight she sat back on her +haunches and waited, pricking up her ears every time Kazan passed her in +his mad circuit around the windfall. At his fourth or fifth heat the +porcupine smoothed itself down a little, and continuing the interrupted +thread of its chatter waddled to a near-by poplar, climbed it and began +to gnaw the tender bark from a limb. + +At last Kazan halted before Gray Wolf. The first agony of a hundred +little needles piercing his flesh had deadened into a steady burning +pain. Gray Wolf went over to him and investigated him cautiously. With +her teeth she seized the ends of two or three of the quills and pulled +them out. Kazan was very much dog now. He gave a yelp, and whimpered as +Gray Wolf jerked out a second bunch of quills. Then he flattened himself +on his belly, stretched out his forelegs, closed his eyes, and without +any other sound except an occasional yelp of pain allowed Gray Wolf to +go on with the operation. Fortunately he had escaped getting any of the +quills in his mouth and tongue. But his nose and jaws were soon red +with blood. For an hour Gray Wolf kept faithfully at her task and by the +end of that time had succeeded in pulling out most of the quills. A few +still remained, too short and too deeply inbedded for her to extract +with her teeth. + +After this Kazan went down to the creek and buried his burning muzzle in +the cold water. This gave him some relief, but only for a short time. +The quills that remained worked their way deeper and deeper into his +flesh, like living things. Nose and lips began to swell. Blood and +saliva dripped from his mouth and his eyes grew red. Two hours after +Gray Wolf had retired to her nest under the windfall a quill had +completely pierced his lip and began to prick his tongue. In desperation +Kazan chewed viciously upon a piece of wood. This broke and crumpled the +quill, and destroyed its power to do further harm. Nature had told him +the one thing to do to save himself. Most of that day he spent in +gnawing at wood and crunching mouthfuls of earth and mold between his +jaws. In this way the barb-toothed points of the quills were dulled and +broken as they came through. At dusk he crawled under the windfall, and +Gray Wolf gently licked his muzzle with her soft cool tongue. Frequently +during the night Kazan went to the creek and found relief in its +ice-cold water. + +The next day he had what the forest people call "porcupine mumps." His +face was swollen until Gray Wolf would have laughed if she had been +human, and not blind. His chops bulged like cushions. His eyes were mere +slits. When he went out into the day he blinked, for he could see +scarcely better than his sightless mate. But the pain was mostly gone. +The night that followed he began to think of hunting, and the next +morning before it was yet dawn he brought a rabbit into their den. A few +hours later he would have brought a spruce partridge to Gray Wolf, but +just as he was about to spring upon his feathered prey the soft chatter +of a porcupine a few yards away brought him to a sudden stop. Few things +could make Kazan drop his tail. But that inane and incoherent prattle of +the little spiked beast sent him off at double-quick with his tail +between his legs. As man abhors and evades the creeping serpent, so +Kazan would hereafter evade this little creature of the forests that +never in animal history has been known to lose its good-humor or pick a +quarrel. + +Two weeks of lengthening days, of increasing warmth, of sunshine and +hunting, followed Kazan's adventure with the porcupine. The last of the +snow went rapidly. Out of the earth began to spring tips of green. The +_bakneesh_ vine glistened redder each day, the poplar buds began to +split, and in the sunniest spots, between the rocks of the ridges the +little white snow-flowers began to give a final proof that spring had +come. For the first of those two weeks Gray Wolf hunted frequently with +Kazan. They did not go far. The swamp was alive with small game and each +day or night they killed fresh meat. After the first week Gray Wolf +hunted less. Then came the soft and balmy night, glorious in the +radiance of a full spring moon when she refused to leave the windfall. +Kazan did not urge her. Instinct made him understand, and he did not go +far from the windfall that night in his hunt. When he returned he +brought a rabbit. + +Came then the night when from the darkest corner of the windfall Gray +Wolf warned him back with a low snarl. He stood in the opening, a rabbit +between his jaws. He took no offense at the snarl, but stood for a +moment, gazing into the gloom where Gray Wolf had hidden herself. Then +he dropped the rabbit and lay down squarely in the opening. After a +little he rose restlessly and went outside. But he did not leave the +windfall. It was day when he reentered. He sniffed, as he had sniffed +once before a long time ago, between the boulders at the top of the Sun +Rock. That which was in the air was no longer a mystery to him. He came +nearer and Gray Wolf did not snarl. She whined coaxingly as he touched +her. Then his muzzle found something else. It was soft and warm and made +a queer little sniffling sound. There was a responsive whine in his +throat, and in the darkness came the quick soft caress of Gray Wolf's +tongue. Kazan returned to the sunshine and stretched himself out before +the door of the windfall. His jaws dropped open, for he was filled with +a strange contentment. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + +Robbed once of the joys of parenthood by the murder on the Sun Rock, +both Gray Wolf and Kazan were different from what they would have been +had the big gray lynx not come into their lives at that time. As if it +were but yesterday they remembered the moonlit night when the lynx +brought blindness to Gray Wolf and destroyed her young, and when Kazan +had avenged himself and his mate in his terrible fight to the death with +their enemy. And now, with that soft little handful of life snuggling +close up against her, Gray Wolf saw through her blind eyes the tragic +picture of that night more vividly than ever and she quivered at every +sound, ready to leap in the face of an unseen foe, to rend all flesh +that was not the flesh of Kazan. And ceaselessly, the slightest sound +bringing him to his feet, Kazan watched and guarded. He mistrusted the +moving shadows. The snapping of a twig drew back his upper lip. His +fangs gleamed menacingly when the soft air brought a strange scent. In +him, too, the memory of the Sun Rock, the death of their first young and +the blinding of Gray Wolf, had given birth to a new instinct. Not for an +instant was he off his guard. As surely as one expects the sun to rise +so did he expect that sooner or later their deadly enemy would creep on +them from out of the forest. In another hour such as this the lynx had +brought death. The lynx had brought blindness. And so day and night he +waited and watched for the lynx to come again. And woe unto any other +creature of flesh and blood that dared approach the windfall in these +first days of Gray Wolf's motherhood! + +But peace had spread its wings of sunshine and plenty over the swamp. +There were no intruders, unless the noisy whisky-jacks, the big-eyed +moose-birds, the chattering bush sparrows, and the wood-mice and ermine +could be called such. After the first day or two Kazan went more +frequently into the windfall, and though more than once he nosed +searchingly about Gray Wolf he could find only the one little pup. A +little farther west the Dog-Ribs would have called the pup Ba-ree for +two reasons--because he had no brothers or sisters, and because he was a +mixture of dog and wolf. He was a sleek and lively little fellow from +the beginning, for there was no division of mother strength and +attention. He developed with the true swiftness of the wolf-whelp, and +not with the slowness of the dog-pup. + +For three days he was satisfied to cuddle close against his mother, +feeding when he was hungry, sleeping a great deal and preened and +laundered almost constantly by Gray Wolf's affectionate tongue. From the +fourth day he grew busier and more inquisitive with every hour. He found +his mother's blind face, with tremendous effort he tumbled over her +paws, and once he lost himself completely and sniffled for help when he +rolled fifteen or eighteen inches away from her. It was not long after +this that he began to recognize Kazan as a part of his mother, and he +was scarcely more than a week old when he rolled himself up contentedly +between Kazan's forelegs and went to sleep. Kazan was puzzled. Then +with a deep sigh Gray Wolf laid her head across one of her mate's +forelegs, with her nose touching her runaway baby, and seemed vastly +contented. For half an hour Kazan did not move. + +When he was ten days old Ba-ree discovered there was great sport in +tussling with a bit of rabbit fur. It was a little later when he made +his second exciting discovery--light and sunshine. The sun had now +reached a point where in the middle of the afternoon a bright gleam of +it found its way through an overhead opening in the windfall. At first +Ba-ree would only stare at the golden streak. Then came the time when he +tried to play with it as he played with the rabbit fur. Each day +thereafter he went a little nearer the opening through which Kazan +passed from the windfall into the big world outside. Finally came the +time when he reached the opening and crouched there, blinking and +frightened at what he saw, and now Gray Wolf no longer tried to hold him +back but went out into the sunshine and tried to call him to her. It was +three days before his weak eyes had grown strong enough to permit his +following her, and very quickly after that Ba-ree learned to love the +sun, the warm air, and the sweetness of life, and to dread the darkness +of the closed-in den where he had been born. + +That this world was not altogether so nice as it at first appeared he +was very soon to learn. At the darkening signs of an approaching storm +one day Gray Wolf tried to lure him back under the windfall. It was her +first warning to Ba-ree and he did not understand. Where Gray Wolf +failed, nature came to teach a first lesson. Ba-ree was caught in a +sudden deluge of rain. It flattened him out in pure terror and he was +drenched and half drowned before Gray Wolf caught him between her jaws +and carried him into shelter. One by one after this the first strange +experiences of life came to him, and one by one his instincts received +their birth. Greatest for him of the days to follow was that on which +his inquisitive nose touched the raw flesh of a freshly killed and +bleeding rabbit. It was his first taste of blood. It was sweet. It +filled him with a strange excitement and thereafter he knew what it +meant when Kazan brought in something between his jaws. He soon began +to battle with sticks in place of the soft fur and his teeth grew as +hard and as sharp as little needles. + +The Great Mystery was bared to him at last when Kazan brought in between +his jaws, a big rabbit that was still alive but so badly crushed that it +could not run when dropped to the ground. Ba-ree had learned to know +what rabbits and partridges meant--the sweet warm blood that he loved +better even than he had ever loved his mother's milk. But they had come +to him dead. He had never seen one of the monsters alive. And now the +rabbit that Kazan dropped to the ground, kicking and struggling with a +broken back, sent Ba-ree back appalled. For a few moments he wonderingly +watched the dying throes of Kazan's prey. Both Kazan and Gray Wolf +seemed to understand that this was to be Ba-ree's first lesson in his +education as a slaying and flesh-eating creature, and they stood close +over the rabbit, making no effort to end its struggles. Half a dozen +times Gray Wolf sniffed at the rabbit and then turned her blind face +toward Ba-ree. After the third or fourth time Kazan stretched himself +out on his belly a few feet away and watched the proceedings +attentively. Each time that Gray Wolf lowered her head to muzzle the +rabbit Ba-ree's little ears shot up expectantly. When he saw that +nothing happened and that his mother was not hurt he came a little +nearer. Soon he could reach out, stiff-legged and cautious, and touch +the furry thing that was not yet dead. + +In a last spasmodic convulsion the big rabbit doubled up its rear legs +and gave a kick that sent Ba-ree sprawling back, yelping in terror. He +regained his feet and then, for the first time, anger and the desire to +retaliate took possession of him. The kick had completed his first +education. He came back with less caution, but stiffer-legged, and a +moment later had dug his tiny teeth in the rabbit's neck. He could feel +the throb of life in the soft body, the muscles of the dying rabbit +twitched convulsively under him, and he hung with his teeth until there +was no longer a tremor of life in his first kill. Gray Wolf was +delighted. She caressed Ba-ree with her tongue, and even Kazan +condescended to sniff approvingly of his son when he returned to the +rabbit. And never before had warm sweet blood tasted so good to Ba-ree +as it did to-day. + +Swiftly Ba-ree developed from a blood-tasting into a flesh-eating +animal. One by one the mysteries of life were unfolded to him--the +mating-night chortle of the gray owl, the crash of a falling tree, the +roll of thunder, the rush of running water, the scream of a fisher-cat, +the mooing of the cow moose, and the distant call of his tribe. But +chief of all these mysteries that were already becoming a part of his +instinct was the mystery of scent. One day he wandered fifty yards away +from the windfall and his little nose touched the warm scent of a +rabbit. Instantly, without reasoning or further process of education, he +knew that to get at the sweet flesh and blood which he loved he must +follow the scent. He wriggled slowly along the trail until he came to a +big log, over which the rabbit had vaulted in a long leap, and from this +log he turned back. Each day after this he went on adventures of his +own. At first he was like an explorer without a compass in a vast and +unknown world. Each day he encountered something new, always wonderful, +frequently terrifying. But his terrors grew less and less and his +confidence correspondingly greater. As he found that none of the things +he feared did him any harm he became more and more bold in his +investigations. And his appearance was changing, as well as his view of +things. His round roly-poly body was taking a different form. He became +lithe and quick. The yellow of his coat darkened, and there was a +whitish-gray streak along his back like that along Kazan's. He had his +mother's under-throat and her beautiful grace of head. Otherwise he was +a true son of Kazan. His limbs gave signs of future strength and +massiveness. He was broad across the chest. His eyes were wide apart, +with a little red in the lower corners. The forest people know what to +expect of husky pups who early develop that drop of red. It is a warning +that they are born of the wild and that their mothers, or fathers, are +of the savage hunt-packs. In Ba-ree that tinge of red was so pronounced +that it could mean but one thing. While he was almost half dog, the wild +had claimed him forever. + +Not until the day of his first real battle with a living creature did +Ba-ree come fully into his inheritance. He had gone farther than usual +from the windfall--fully a hundred yards. Here he found a new wonder. It +was the creek. He had heard it before and he had looked down on it from +afar--from a distance of fifty yards at least. But to-day he ventured +going to the edge of it, and there he stood for a long time, with the +water rippling and singing at his feet, gazing across it into the new +world that he saw. Then he moved cautiously along the stream. He had not +gone a dozen steps when there was a furious fluttering close to him, and +one of the fierce big-eyed jays of the Northland was directly in his +path. It could not fly. One of its wings dragged, probably broken in a +struggle with some one of the smaller preying beasts. But for an instant +it was a most startling and defiant bit of life to Ba-ree. + +Then the grayish crest along his back stiffened and he advanced. The +wounded jay remained motionless until Ba-ree was within three feet of +it. In short quick hops it began to retreat. Instantly Ba-ree's +indecision had flown to the four winds. With one sharp excited yelp he +flew at the defiant bird. For a few moments there was a thrilling race, +and Ba-ree's sharp little teeth buried themselves in the jay's feathers. +Swift as a flash the bird's beak began to strike. The jay was the king +of the smaller birds. In nesting season it killed the brush sparrows, +the mild-eyed moose-birds, and the tree-sappers. Again and again it +struck Ba-ree with its powerful beak, but the son of Kazan had now +reached the age of battle and the pain of the blows only made his own +teeth sink deeper. At last he found the flesh; and a puppyish snarl rose +in his throat. Fortunately he had gained a hold under the wing and after +the first dozen blows the jay's resistance grew weaker. Five minutes +later Ba-ree loosened his teeth and drew back a step to look at the +crumpled and motionless creature before him. The jay was dead. He had +won his first battle. And with victory came the wonderful dawning of +that greatest instinct of all, which told him that no longer was he a +drone in the marvelous mechanism of wilderness life--but a part of it +from this time forth. _For he had killed_. + +Half an hour later Gray Wolf came down over his trail. The jay was torn +into bits. Its feathers were scattered about and Ba-ree's little nose +was bloody. Ba-ree was lying in triumph beside his victim. Swiftly Gray +Wolf understood and caressed him joyously. When they returned to the +windfall Ba-ree carried in his jaws what was left of the jay. + +From that hour of his first kill hunting became the chief passion of +Ba-ree's life. When he was not sleeping in the sun, or under the +windfall at night, he was seeking life that he could destroy. He +slaughtered an entire family of wood-mice. Moose-birds were at first the +easiest for him to stalk, and he killed three. Then he encountered an +ermine and the fierce little white outlaw of the forests gave him his +first defeat. Defeat cooled his ardor for a few days, but taught him the +great lesson that there were other fanged and flesh-eating animals +besides himself and that nature had so schemed things that fang must not +prey upon fang--_for food_. Many things had been born in him. +Instinctively he shunned the porcupine without experiencing the torture +of its quills. He came face to face with a fisher-cat one day, a +fortnight after his fight with the ermine. Both were seeking food, and +as there was no food between them to fight over, each went his own way. + +Farther and farther Ba-ree ventured from the windfall, always following +the creek. Sometimes he was gone for hours. At first Gray Wolf was +restless when he was away, but she seldom went with him and after a time +her restlessness left her. Nature was working swiftly. It was Kazan who +was restless now. Moonlight nights had come and the wanderlust was +growing more and more insistent in his veins. And Gray Wolf, too, was +filled with the strange longing to roam at large out into the big world. + +Came then the afternoon when Ba-ree went on his longest hunt. Half a +mile away he killed his first rabbit. He remained beside it until dusk. +The moon rose, big and golden, flooding the forests and plains and +ridges with a light almost like that of day. It was a glorious night. +And Ba-ree found the moon, and left his kill. And the direction in +which he traveled _was away from the windfall_. + +All that night Gray Wolf watched and waited. And when at last the moon +was sinking into the south and west she settled back on her haunches, +turned her blind face to the sky and sent forth her first howl since the +day Ba-ree was born. Nature had come into her own. Far away Ba-ree +heard, but he did not answer. A new world was his. He had said good-by +to the windfall--and home. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE USURPERS + + +It was that glorious season between spring and summer, when the northern +nights were brilliant with moon and stars, that Kazan and Gray Wolf set +up the valley between the two ridges on a long hunt. It was the +beginning of that _wanderlust_ which always comes to the furred and +padded creatures of the wilderness immediately after the young-born of +early spring have left their mothers to find their own way in the big +world. They struck west from their winter home under the windfall in the +swamp. They hunted mostly at night and behind them they left a trail +marked by the partly eaten carcasses of rabbits and partridges. It was +the season of slaughter and not of hunger. Ten miles west of the swamp +they killed a fawn. This, too, they left after a single meal. Their +appetites became satiated with warm flesh and blood. They grew sleek and +fat and each day they basked longer in the warm sunshine. They had few +rivals. The lynxes were in the heavier timber to the south. There were +no wolves. Fisher-cat, marten and mink were numerous along the creek, +but these were neither swift-hunting nor long-fanged. One day they came +upon an old otter. He was a giant of his kind, turning a whitish gray +with the approach of summer. Kazan, grown fat and lazy, watched him +idly. Blind Gray Wolf sniffed at the fishy smell of him in the air. To +them he was no more than a floating stick, a creature out of their +element, along with the fish, and they continued on their way not +knowing that this uncanny creature with the coal-like flappers was soon +to become their ally in one of the strange and deadly feuds of the +wilderness, which are as sanguinary to animal life as the deadliest +feuds of men are to human life. + +The day following their meeting with the otter Gray Wolf and Kazan +continued three miles farther westward, still following the stream. Here +they encountered the interruption to their progress which turned them +over the northward ridge. The obstacle was a huge beaver dam. The dam +was two hundred yards in width and flooded a mile of swamp and timber +above it. Neither Gray Wolf nor Kazan was deeply interested in beavers. +They also moved out of their element, along with the fish and the otter +and swift-winged birds. + +So they turned into the north, not knowing that nature had already +schemed that they four--the dog, wolf, otter and beaver--should soon be +engaged in one of those merciless struggles of the wild which keep +animal life down to the survival of the fittest, and whose tragic +histories are kept secret under the stars and the moon and the winds +that tell no tales. + +For many years no man had come into this valley between the two ridges +to molest the beaver. If a Sarcee trapper had followed down the nameless +creek and had caught the patriarch and chief of the colony, he would at +once have judged him to be very old and his Indian tongue would have +given him a name. He would have called him Broken Tooth, because one of +the four long teeth with which he felled trees and built dams was broken +off. Six years before Broken Tooth had led a few beavers of his own age +down the stream, and they had built their first small dam and their +first lodge. The following April Broken Tooth's mate had four little +baby beavers, and each of the other mothers in the colony increased the +population by two or three or four. At the end of the fourth year this +first generation of children, had they followed the usual law of nature, +would have mated and left the colony to build a dam and lodges of their +own. They mated, but did not emigrate. + +The next year the second generation of children, now four years old, +mated but did not leave, so that in this early summer of the sixth year +the colony was very much like a great city that had been long besieged +by an enemy. It numbered fifteen lodges and over a hundred beavers, not +counting the fourth babies which had been born during March and April. +The dam had been lengthened until it was fully two hundred yards in +length. Water had been made to flood large areas of birch and poplar and +tangled swamps of tender willow and elder. Even with this food was +growing scarce and the lodges were overcrowded. This was because +beavers are almost human in their love for home. Broken Tooth's lodge +was fully nine feet long by seven wide inside, and there were now living +in it children and grandchildren to the number of twenty-seven. For this +reason Broken Tooth was preparing to break the precedent of his tribe. +When Kazan and Gray Wolf sniffed carelessly at the strong scents of the +beaver city, Broken Tooth was marshaling his family, and two of his sons +and their families, for the exodus. + +As yet Broken Tooth was the recognized leader in the colony. No other +beaver had grown to his size and strength. His thick body was fully +three feet long. He weighed at least sixty pounds. His tail was fourteen +inches in length and five in width, and on a still night he could strike +the water a blow that could be heard a quarter of a mile away. His +webbed hindfeet were twice as large as his mate's and he was easily the +swiftest swimmer in the colony. + +Following the afternoon when Gray Wolf and Kazan struck into the north +came the clear still night when Broken Tooth climbed to the top of the +dam, shook himself, and looked down to see that his army was behind +him. The starlit water of the big pond rippled and flashed with the +movement of many bodies. A few of the older beavers clambered up after +Broken Tooth and the old patriarch plunged down into the narrow stream +on the other side of the dam. Now the shining silken bodies of the +emigrants followed him in the starlight. In ones and twos and threes +they climbed over the dam and with them went a dozen children born three +months before. Easily and swiftly they began the journey down-stream, +the youngsters swimming furiously to keep up with their parents. In all +they numbered forty. Broken Tooth swam well in the lead, with his older +workers and battlers behind him. In the rear followed mothers and +children. + +All of that night the journey continued. The otter, their deadliest +enemy--deadlier even than man--hid himself in a thick clump of willows +as they passed. Nature, which sometimes sees beyond the vision of man, +had made him the enemy of these creatures that were passing his +hiding-place in the night. A fish-feeder, he was born to be a conserver +as well as a destroyer of the creatures on which he fed. Perhaps nature +told him that too many beaver dams stopped the run of spawning fish and +that where there were many beavers there were always few fish. Maybe he +reasoned as to why fish-hunting was poor and he went hungry. So, unable +to cope singly with whole tribes of his enemies, he worked to destroy +their dams. How this, in turn, destroyed the beavers will be seen in the +feud in which nature had already schemed that he should play a part with +Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +A dozen times during this night Broken Tooth halted to investigate the +food supplies along the banks. But in the two or three places where he +found plenty of the bark on which they lived it would have been +difficult to have constructed a dam. His wonderful engineering instincts +rose even above food instincts. And when each time he moved onward, no +beaver questioned his judgment by remaining behind. In the early dawn +they crossed the burn and came to the edge of the swamp domain of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. By right of discovery and possession that swamp belonged +to the dog and the wolf. In every part of it they had left their mark of +ownership. But Broken Tooth was a creature of the water and the scent of +his tribe was not keen. He led on, traveling more slowly when they +entered the timber. Just below the windfall home of Kazan and Gray Wolf +he halted, and clambering ashore balanced himself upright on his webbed +hindfeet and broad four-pound tail. Here he had found ideal conditions. +A dam could be constructed easily across the narrow stream, and the +water could be made to flood a big supply of poplar, birch, willow and +alder. Also the place was sheltered by heavy timber, so that the winters +would be warm. Broken Tooth quickly gave his followers to understand +that this was to be their new home. On both sides of the stream they +swarmed into the near-by timber. The babies began at once to nibble +hungrily at the tender bark of willow and alder. The older ones, every +one of them now a working engineer, investigated excitedly, breakfasting +by nibbling off a mouthful of bark now and then. + +That day the work of home-building began. Broken Tooth himself selected +a big birch that leaned over the stream, and began the work of cutting +through the ten-inch butt with his three long teeth. Though the old +patriarch had lost one tooth, the three that remained had not +deteriorated with age. The outer edge of them was formed of the hardest +enamel; the inner side was of soft ivory. They were like the finest +steel chisels, the enamel never wearing away and the softer ivory +replacing itself year by year as it was consumed. Sitting on his +hindlegs, with his forepaws resting against the tree and with his heavy +tail giving him a firm balance, Broken Tooth began gnawing a narrow ring +entirely around the tree. He worked tirelessly for several hours, and +when at last he stopped to rest another workman took up the task. +Meanwhile a dozen beavers were hard at work cutting timber. Long before +Broken Tooth's tree was ready to fall across the stream, a smaller +poplar crashed into the water. The cutting on the big birch was in the +shape of an hour-glass. In twenty hours it fell straight across the +creek. While the beaver prefers to do most of his work at night he is a +day-laborer as well, and Broken Tooth gave his tribe but little rest +during the days that followed. With almost human intelligence the little +engineers kept at their task. Smaller trees were felled, and these were +cut into four or five foot lengths. One by one these lengths were rolled +to the stream, the beavers pushing them with their heads and forepaws, +and by means of brush and small limbs they were fastened securely +against the birch. When the framework was completed the wonderful cement +construction was begun. In this the beavers were the masters of men. +Dynamite was the only force that could hereafter break up what they were +building now. Under their cup-like chins the beavers brought from the +banks a mixture of mud and fine twigs, carrying from half a pound to a +pound at a load and began filling up the framework with it. Their task +seemed tremendous, and yet Broken Tooth's engineers could carry a ton of +this mud and twig mixture during a day and night. In three days the +water was beginning to back, until it rose about the butts of a dozen or +more trees and was flooding a small area of brush. This made work +easier. From now on materials could be cut in the water and easily +floated. While a part of the beaver colony was taking advantage of the +water, others were felling trees end to end with the birch, laying the +working frame of a dam a hundred feet in width. + +They had nearly accomplished this work when one morning Kazan and Gray +Wolf returned to the swamp. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + +A soft wind blowing from the south and east brought the scent of the +invaders to Gray Wolf's nose when they were still half a mile away. She +gave the warning to Kazan and he, too, found the strange scent in the +air. It grew stronger as they advanced. When two hundred yards from the +windfall they heard the sudden crash of a falling tree, and stopped. For +a full minute they stood tense and listening. Then the silence was +broken by a squeaking cry, followed by a splash. Gray Wolf's alert ears +fell back and she turned her blind face understandingly toward Kazan. +They trotted ahead slowly, approaching the windfall from behind. Not +until they had reached the top of the knoll on which it was situated did +Kazan begin to see the wonderful change that had taken place during +their absence. Astounded, they stood while he stared. There was no +longer a little creek below them. Where it had been was a pond that +reached almost to the foot of the knoll. It was fully a hundred feet in +width and the backwater had flooded the trees and bush for five or six +times that distance toward the burn. They had come up quietly and Broken +Tooth's dull-scented workers were unaware of their presence. Not fifty +feet away Broken Tooth himself was gnawing at the butt of a tree. An +equal distance to the right of him four or five of the baby beavers were +at play building a miniature dam of mud and tiny twigs. On the opposite +side of the pond was a steep bank six or seven feet high, and here a few +of the older children--two years old, but still not workmen--were having +great fun climbing the bank and using it as a toboggan-slide. It was +their splashing that Kazan and Gray Wolf had heard. In a dozen different +places the older beavers were at work. + +A few weeks before Kazan had looked upon a similar scene when he had +returned into the north from Broken Tooth's old home. It had not +interested him then. But a quick and thrilling change swept through him +now. The beavers had ceased to be mere water animals, uneatable and +with an odor that displeased him. They were invaders--and enemies. His +fangs bared silently. His crest stiffened like the hair of a brush, and +the muscles of his forelegs and shoulders stood out like whipcords. Not +a sound came from him as he rushed down upon Broken Tooth. The old +beaver was oblivious of danger until Kazan was within twenty feet of +him. Naturally slow of movement on land, he stood for an instant +stupefied. Then he swung down from the tree as Kazan leaped upon him. +Over and over they rolled to the edge of the bank, carried on by the +dog's momentum. In another moment the thick heavy body of the beaver had +slipped like oil from under Kazan and Broken Tooth was safe in his +element, two holes bitten clean through his fleshy tail. Baffled in his +effort to get a death-hold on Broken Tooth, Kazan swung like a flash to +the right. The young beavers had not moved. Astonished and frightened at +what they had seen, they stood as if stupefied. Not until they saw Kazan +tearing toward them did they awaken to action. Three of them reached the +water. The fourth and fifth--baby beavers not more than three months +old--were too late. With a single snap of his jaw Kazan broke the hack +of one. The other he pinned down by the throat and shook as a terrier +shakes a rat. When Gray Wolf trotted down to him both of the little +beavers were dead. She sniffed at their soft little bodies and whined. +Perhaps the baby creatures reminded her of runaway Ba-ree, her own baby, +for there was a note of longing in her whine as she nosed them. It was +the mother whine. + +But if Gray Wolf had visions of her own Kazan understood nothing of +them. He had killed two of the creatures that had dared to invade their +home. To the little beavers he had been as merciless as the gray lynx +that had murdered Gray Wolf's first children on the top of the Sun Rock. +Now that he had sunk his teeth into the flesh of his enemies his blood +was filled with a frenzied desire to kill. He raved along the edge of +the pond, snarling at the uneasy water under which Broken Tooth had +disappeared. All of the beavers had taken refuge in the pond, and its +surface was heaving with the passing of many bodies beneath. Kazan came +to the end of the dam. This was new. Instinctively he knew that it was +the work of Broken Tooth and his tribe and for a few moments he tore +fiercely at the matted sticks and limbs. Suddenly there was an upheaval +of water close to the dam, fifty feet out from the bank, and Broken +Tooth's big gray head appeared. For a tense half minute Broken Tooth and +Kazan measured each other at that distance. Then Broken Tooth drew his +wet shining body out of the water to the top of the dam, and squatted +flat, facing Kazan. The old patriarch was alone. Not another beaver had +shown himself. + +The surface of the pond had now become quiet. Vainly Kazan tried to +discover a footing that would allow him to reach the watchful invader. +But between the solid wall of the dam and the bank there was a tangled +framework through which the water rushed with some violence. Three times +Kazan fought to work his way through that tangle, and three times his +efforts ended in sudden plunges into the water. All this time Broken +Tooth did not move. When at last Kazan gave up the attack the old +engineer slipped over the edge of the dam and disappeared under the +water. He had learned that Kazan, like the lynx, could not fight water +and he spread the news among the members of his colony. + +Gray Wolf and Kazan returned to the windfall and lay down in the warm +sun. Half an hour later Broken Tooth drew himself out on the opposite +shore of the pond. He was followed by other beavers. Across the water +they resumed their work as if nothing had happened. The tree-cutters +returned to their trees. Half a dozen worked in the water, carrying +loads of cement and twigs. The middle of the pond was their dead-line. +Across this not one of them passed. A dozen times during the hour that +followed one of the beavers swam up to the dead-line, and rested there, +looking at the shining little bodies of the babies that Kazan had +killed. Perhaps it was the mother, and perhaps some finer instinct +unknown to Kazan told this to Gray Wolf. For Gray Wolf went down twice +to sniff at the dead bodies, and each time--without seeing--she went +when the mother beaver had come to the dead-line. + +The first fierce animus had worn itself from Kazan's blood, and he now +watched the beavers closely. He had learned that they were not fighters. +They were many to one and yet they ran from him like a lot of rabbits. +Broken Tooth had not even struck at him, and slowly it grew upon him +that these invading creatures that used both the water and land would +have to be hunted as he stalked the rabbit and the partridge. Early in +the afternoon he slipped off into the bush, followed by Gray Wolf. He +had often begun the stalking of a rabbit by moving _away_ from it and he +employed this wolf trick now with the beavers. Beyond the windfall he +turned and began trotting up the creek, with the wind. For a quarter of +a mile the creek was deeper than it had ever been. One of their old +fording places was completely submerged, and at last Kazan plunged in +and swam across, leaving Gray Wolf to wait for him on the windfall side +of the stream. + +Alone he made his way quickly in the direction of the dam, traveling two +hundred yards back from the creek. Twenty yards below the dam a dense +thicket of alder and willow grew close to the creek and Kazan took +advantage of this. He approached within a leap or two of the dam without +being seen and crouched close to the ground, ready to spring forth when +the opportunity came. Most of the beavers were now working in the water. +The four or five still on shore were close to the water and some +distance up-stream. After a wait of several minutes Kazan was almost on +the point of staking everything on a wild rush upon his enemies when a +movement on the dam attracted his attention. Half-way out two or three +beavers were at work strengthening the central structure with cement. +Swift as a flash Kazan darted from his cover to the shelter behind the +dam. Here the water was very shallow, the main portion of the stream +finding a passage close to the opposite shore. Nowhere did it reach to +his belly as he waded out. He was completely hidden from the beavers, +and the wind was in his favor. The noise of running water drowned what +little sound he made. Soon he heard the beaver workmen over him. The +branches of the fallen birch gave him a footing, and he clambered up. + +A moment later his head and shoulders appeared above the top of the +dam. Scarce an arm's length away Broken Tooth was forcing into place a +three-foot length of poplar as big around as a man's arm. He was so busy +that he did not hear or see Kazan. Another beaver gave the warning as he +plunged into the pond. Broken Tooth looked up, and his eyes met Kazan's +bared fangs. There was no time to turn. He threw himself back, but it +was a moment too late. Kazan was upon him. His long fangs sank deep into +Broken Tooth's neck. But the old beaver had thrown himself enough back +to make Kazan lose his footing. At the same moment his chisel-like teeth +got a firm hold of the loose skin at Kazan's throat. Thus clinched, with +Kazan's long teeth buried almost to the beaver's jugular, they plunged +down into the deep water of the pond. + +Broken Tooth weighed sixty pounds. The instant he struck the water he +was in his element, and holding tenaciously to the grip he had obtained +on Kazan's neck he sank like a chunk of iron. Kazan was pulled +completely under. The water rushed into his mouth, his ears, eyes and +nose. He was blinded, and his senses were a roaring tumult. But instead +of struggling to free himself he held his breath and buried his teeth +deeper. They touched the soft bottom and for a moment floundered in the +mud. Then Kazan loosened his hold. He was fighting for his own life +now--and not for Broken Tooth's. With all of the strength of his +powerful limbs he struggled to break loose--to rise to the surface, to +fresh air, to life. He clamped his jaws shut, knowing that to breathe +was to die. On land he could have freed himself from Broken Tooth's hold +without an effort. But under water the old beaver's grip was more deadly +than would have been the fangs of a lynx ashore. There was a sudden +swirl of water as a second beaver circled close about the struggling +pair. Had he closed in with Broken Tooth, Kazan's struggles would +quickly have ceased. + +But nature had not foreseen the day when Broken Tooth would be fighting +with fang. The old patriarch had no particular reason now for holding +Kazan down. He was not vengeful. He did not thirst for blood or death. +Finding that he was free, and that this strange enemy that had twice +leaped upon him could do him no harm, he loosed his hold. It was not a +moment too soon for Kazan. He was struggling weakly when he rose to the +surface of the water. Three-quarters drowned, he succeeded in raising +his forepaws over a slender branch that projected from the dam. This +gave him time to fill his lungs with air, and to cough forth the water +that had almost ended his existence. For ten minutes he clung to the +branch before he dared attempt the short swim ashore. When he reached +the bank he dragged himself up weakly. All the strength was gone from +his body. His limbs shook. His jaws hung loose. He was beaten--completely +beaten. And a creature without a fang had worsted him. He felt the +abasement of it. Drenched and slinking, he went to the windfall, lay +down in the sun, and waited for Gray Wolf. + +Days followed in which Kazan's desire to destroy his beaver enemies +became the consuming passion of his life. Each day the dam became more +formidable. Cement work in the water was carried on by the beavers +swiftly and safely. The water in the pond rose higher each twenty-four +hours, and the pond grew steadily wider. The water had now been turned +into the depression that encircled the windfall, and in another week or +two, if the beavers continued their work, Kazan's and Gray Wolf's home +would be nothing more than a small island in the center of a wide area +of submerged swamp. + +Kazan hunted only for food now, and not for pleasure. Ceaselessly he +watched his opportunity to leap upon incautious members of Broken +Tooth's tribe. The third day after the struggle under the water he +killed a big beaver that approached too close to the willow thicket. The +fifth day two of the young beavers wandered into the flooded depression +back of the windfall and Kazan caught them in shallow water and tore +them into pieces. After these successful assaults the beavers began to +work mostly at night. This was to Kazan's advantage, for he was a +night-hunter. On each of two consecutive nights he killed a beaver. +Counting the young, he had killed seven when the otter came. + +Never had Broken Tooth been placed between two deadlier or more +ferocious enemies than the two that now assailed him. On shore Kazan +was his master because of his swiftness, keener scent, and fighting +trickery. In the water the otter was a still greater menace. He was +swifter than the fish that he caught for food. His teeth were like steel +needles. He was so sleek and slippery that it would have been impossible +for them to hold him with their chisel-like teeth could they have caught +him. The otter, like the beaver, possessed no hunger for blood. Yet in +all the Northland he was the greatest destroyer of their kind--an even +greater destroyer than man. He came and passed like a plague, and it was +in the coldest days of winter that greatest destruction came with him. +In those days he did not assault the beavers in their snug houses. He +did what man could do only with dynamite--made an embrasure through +their dam. Swiftly the water would fall, the surface ice would crash +down, and the beaver houses would be left out of water. Then followed +death for the beavers--starvation and cold. With the protecting water +gone from about their houses, the drained pond a chaotic mass of broken +ice, and the temperature forty or fifty degrees below zero, they would +die within a few hours. For the beaver, with his thick coat of fur, can +stand less cold than man. Through all the long winter the water about +his home is as necessary to him as fire to a child. + +But it was summer now and Broken Tooth and his colony had no very great +fear of the otter. It would cost them some labor to repair the damage he +did, but there was plenty of food and it was warm. For two days the +otter frisked about the dam and the deep water of the pond. Kazan took +him for a beaver, and tried vainly to stalk him. The otter regarded +Kazan suspiciously and kept well out of his way. Neither knew that the +other was an ally. Meanwhile the beavers continued their work with +greater caution. The water in the pond had now risen to a point where +the engineers had begun the construction of three lodges. On the third +day the destructive instinct of the otter began its work. He began to +examine the dam, close down to the foundation. It was not long before he +found a weak spot to begin work on, and with his sharp teeth and small +bullet-like head he commenced his drilling operations. Inch by inch he +worked his way through the dam, burrowing and gnawing over and under the +timbers, and always through the cement. The round hole he made was fully +seven inches in diameter. In six hours he had cut it through the +five-foot base of the dam. + +A torrent of water began to rush from the pond as if forced out by a +hydraulic pump. Kazan and Gray Wolf were hiding in the willows on the +south side of the pond when this happened. They heard the roar of the +stream tearing through the embrasure and Kazan saw the otter crawl up to +the top of the dam and shake himself like a huge water-rat. Within +thirty minutes the water in the pond had fallen perceptibly, and the +force of the water pouring through the hole was constantly increasing +the outlet. In another half hour the foundations of the three lodges, +which had been laid in about ten inches of water, stood on mud. Not +until Broken Tooth discovered that the water was receding from the +houses did he take alarm. He was thrown into a panic, and very soon +every beaver in the colony tearing excitedly about the pond. They swam +swiftly from shore to shore, paying no attention to the dead-line now. +Broken Tooth and the older workmen made for the dam, and with a snarling +cry the otter plunged down among them and out like a flash for the creek +above the pond. Swiftly the water continued to fall and as it fell the +excitement of the beavers increased. They forgot Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +Several of the younger members of the colony drew themselves ashore on +the windfall side of the pond, and whining softly Kazan was about to +slip back through the willows when one of the older beavers waddled up +through the deepening mud close on his ambush. In two leaps Kazan was +upon him, with Gray Wolf a leap behind him. The short fierce struggle in +the mud was seen by the other beavers and they crossed swiftly to the +opposite side of the pond. The water had receded to a half of its +greatest width before Broken Tooth and his workmen discovered the breach +in the wall of the dam. The work of repair was begun at once. For this +work sticks and brush of considerable size were necessary, and to reach +this material the beavers were compelled to drag their heavy bodies +through the ten or fifteen yards of soft mud left by the falling water. +Peril of fang no longer kept them back. Instinct told them that they +were fighting for their existence--that if the embrasure were not filled +up and the water kept in the pond they would very soon be completely +exposed to their enemies. It was a day of slaughter for Gray Wolf and +Kazan. They killed two more beavers in the mud close to the willows. +Then they crossed the creek below the dam and cut off three beavers in +the depression behind the windfall. There was no escape for these three. +They were torn into pieces. Farther up the creek Kazan caught a young +beaver and killed it. + +Late in the afternoon the slaughter ended. Broken Tooth and his +courageous engineers had at last repaired the breach, and the water in +the pond began to rise. + +Half a mile up the creek the big otter was squatted on a log basking in +the last glow of the setting sun. To-morrow he would go and do over +again his work of destruction. That was his method. For him it was play. + +But that strange and unseen arbiter of the forests called O-ee-ki, "the +Spirit," by those who speak the wild tongue, looked down at last with +mercy upon Broken Tooth and his death-stricken tribe. For in that last +glow of sunset Kazan and Gray Wolf slipped stealthily up the creek--to +find the otter basking half asleep on the log. + +The day's work, a full stomach, and the pool of warm sunlight in which +he lay had all combined to make the otter sleepy. He was as motionless +as the log on which he had stretched himself. He was big and gray and +old. For ten years he had lived to prove his cunning superior to that of +man. Vainly traps had been set for him. Wily trappers had built narrow +sluice-ways of rock and tree in small streams for him, but the old otter +had foiled their cunning and escaped the steel jaws waiting at the lower +end of each sluice. The trail he left in soft mud told of his size. A +few trappers had seen him. His soft pelt would long ago have found its +way to London, Paris or Berlin had it not been for his cunning. He was +fit for a princess, a duke or an emperor. For ten years he had lived +and escaped the demands of the rich. + +But this was summer. No trapper would have killed him now, for his pelt +was worthless. Nature and instinct both told him this. At this season he +did not dread man, for there was no man to dread. So he lay asleep on +the log, oblivious to everything but the comfort of sleep and the warmth +of the sun. + +Soft-footed, searching still for signs of the furry enemies who had +invaded their domain, Kazan slipped along the creek. Gray Wolf ran close +at his shoulder. They made no sound, and the wind was in their +favor--bringing scents toward them. It brought the otter smell. To Kazan +and Gray Wolf it was the scent of a water animal, rank and fishy, and +they took it for the beaver. They advanced still more cautiously. Then +Kazan saw the big otter asleep on the log and he gave the warning to +Gray Wolf. She stopped, standing with her head thrown up, while Kazan +made his stealthy advance. The otter stirred uneasily. It was growing +dusk. The golden pool of sunlight had faded away. Back in the darkening +timber an owl greeted night with its first-low call. The otter breathed +deeply. His whiskered muzzle twitched. He was awakening--stirring--when +Kazan leaped upon him. Face to face, in fair fight, the old otter could +have given a good account of himself. But there was no chance now. The +wild itself had for the first time in his life become his deadliest +enemy. It was not man now--but O-ee-ki, "the Spirit," that had laid its +hand upon him. And from the Spirit there was no escape. Kazan's fangs +sank into his soft jugular. Perhaps he died without knowing what it was +that had leaped upon him. For he died--quickly, and Kazan and Gray Wolf +went on their way, hunting still for enemies to slaughter, and not +knowing that in the otter they had killed the one ally who would have +driven the beavers from their swamp home. + +The days that followed grew more and more hopeless for Kazan and Gray +Wolf. With the otter gone Broken Tooth and his tribe held the winning +hand. Each day the water backed a little farther into the depression +surrounding the windfall. By the middle of July only a narrow strip of +land connected the windfall hummock with the dry land of the swamp. In +deep water the beavers now worked unmolested. Inch by inch the water +rose, until there came the day when it began to overflow the connecting +strip. For the last time Kazan and Gray Wolf passed from their windfall +home and traveled up the stream between the two ridges. The creek held a +new meaning for them now and as they traveled they sniffed its odors and +listened to its sounds with an interest they had never known before. It +was an interest mingled a little with fear, for something in the manner +in which the beavers had beaten them reminded Kazan and Gray Wolf of +_man_. And that night, when in the radiance of the big white moon they +came within scent of the beaver colony that Broken Tooth had left, they +turned quickly northward into the plains. Thus had brave old Broken +Tooth taught them to respect the flesh and blood and handiwork of his +tribe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + +July and August of 1911 were months of great fires in the Northland. The +swamp home of Kazan and Gray Wolf, and the green valley between the two +ridges, had escaped the seas of devastating flame; but now, as they set +forth on their wandering adventures again, it was not long before their +padded feet came in contact with the seared and blackened desolation +that had followed so closely after the plague and starvation of the +preceding winter. In his humiliation and defeat, after being driven from +his swamp home by the beavers, Kazan led his blind mate first into the +south. Twenty miles beyond the ridge they struck the fire-killed +forests. Winds from Hudson's Bay had driven the flames in an unbroken +sea into the west, and they had left not a vestige of life or a patch of +green. Blind Gray Wolf could not see the blackened world, but she +_sensed_ it. It recalled to her memory of that other fire, after the +battle on the Sun Rock; and all of her wonderful instincts, sharpened +and developed by her blindness, told her that to the north--and not +south--lay the hunting-grounds they were seeking. The strain of dog that +was in Kazan still pulled him south. It was not because he sought man, +for to man he had now become as deadly an enemy as Gray Wolf herself. It +was simply dog instinct to travel southward; in the face of fire it was +wolf instinct to travel northward. At the end of the third day Gray Wolf +won. They recrossed the little valley between the two ridges, and swung +north and west into the Athabasca country, striking a course that would +ultimately bring them to the headwaters of the McFarlane River. + +Late in the preceding autumn a prospector had come up to Fort Smith, on +the Slave River, with a pickle bottle filled with gold dust and nuggets. +He had made the find on the McFarlane. The first mails had taken the +news to the outside world, and by midwinter the earliest members of a +treasure-hunting horde were rushing into the country by snow-shoe and +dog-sledge. Other finds came thick and fast. The McFarlane was rich in +free gold, and miners by the score staked out their claims along it and +began work. Latecomers swung to new fields farther north and east, and +to Fort Smith came rumors of "finds" richer than those of the Yukon. A +score of men at first--then a hundred, five hundred, a thousand--rushed +into the new country. Most of these were from the prairie countries to +the south, and from the placer beds of the Saskatchewan and the Frazer. +From the far North, traveling by way of the Mackenzie and the Liard, +came a smaller number of seasoned prospectors and adventurers from the +Yukon--men who knew what it meant to starve and freeze and die by +inches. + +One of these late comers was Sandy McTrigger. There were several reasons +why Sandy had left the Yukon. He was "in bad" with the police who +patrolled the country west of Dawson, and he was "broke." In spite of +these facts he was one of the best prospectors that had ever followed +the shores of the Klondike. He had made discoveries running up to a +million or two, and had promptly lost them through gambling and drink. +He had no conscience, and little fear. Brutality was the chief thing +written in his face. His undershot jaw, his wide eyes, low forehead and +grizzly mop of red hair proclaimed him at once as a man not to be +trusted beyond one's own vision or the reach of a bullet. It was +suspected that he had killed a couple of men, and robbed others, but as +yet the police had failed to get anything "on" him. But along with this +bad side of him, Sandy McTrigger possessed a coolness and a courage +which even his worst enemies could not but admire, and also certain +mental depths which his unpleasant features did not proclaim. + +Inside of six months Red Gold City had sprung up on the McFarlane, a +hundred and fifty miles from Fort Smith, and Fort Smith was five hundred +miles from civilization. When Sandy came he looked over the crude +collection of shacks, gambling houses and saloons in the new town, and +made up his mind that the time was not ripe for any of his "inside" +schemes just yet. He gambled a little, and won sufficient to buy himself +grub and half an outfit. A feature of this outfit was an old +muzzle-loading rifle. Sandy, who always carried the latest Savage on +the market, laughed at it. But it was the best his finances would allow +of. He started south--up the McFarlane. Beyond a certain point on the +river prospectors had found no gold. Sandy pushed confidently _beyond_ +this point. Not until he was in new country did he begin his search. +Slowly he worked his way up a small tributary whose headwaters were +fifty or sixty miles to the south and east. Here and there he found +fairly good placer gold. He might have panned six or eight dollars' +worth a day. With this much he was disgusted. Week after week he +continued to work his way up-stream, and the farther he went the poorer +his pans became. At last only occasionally did he find colors. After +such disgusting weeks as these Sandy was dangerous--when in the company +of others. Alone he was harmless. + +One afternoon he ran his canoe ashore on a white strip of sand. This was +at a bend, where the stream had widened, and gave promise of at least a +few colors. He had bent down close to the edge of the water when +something caught his attention on the wet sand. What he saw were the +footprints of animals. Two had come down to drink. They had stood side +by side. And the footprints were fresh--made not more than an hour or +two before. A gleam of interest shot into Sandy's eyes. He looked behind +him, and up and down the stream. + +"Wolves," he grunted. "Wish I could 'a' shot at 'em with that old +minute-gun back there. Gawd--listen to that! And in broad daylight, +too!" + +He jumped to his feet, staring off into the bush. + +A quarter of a mile away Gray Wolf had caught the dreaded scent of man +in the wind, and was giving voice to her warning. It was a long wailing +howl, and not until its last echoes had died away did Sandy McTrigger +move. Then he returned to the canoe, took out his old gun, put a fresh +cap on the nipple and disappeared quickly over the edge of the bank. + +For a week Kazan and Gray Wolf had been wandering about the headwaters +of the McFarlane and this was the first time since the preceding winter +that Gray Wolf had caught the scent of man in the air. When the wind +brought the danger-signal to her she was alone. Two or three minutes +before the scent came to her Kazan had left her side in swift pursuit of +a snow-shoe rabbit, and she lay flat on her belly under a bush, waiting +for him. In these moments when she was alone Gray Wolf was constantly +sniffing the air. Blindness had developed her scent and hearing until +they were next to infallible. First she had heard the rattle of Sandy +McTrigger's paddle against the side of his canoe a quarter of a mile +away. Scent had followed swiftly. Five minutes after her warning howl +Kazan stood at her side, his head flung up, his jaws open and panting. +Sandy had hunted Arctic foxes, and he was using the Eskimo tactics now, +swinging in a half-circle until he should come up in the face of the +wind. Kazan caught a single whiff of the man-tainted air and his spine +grew stiff. But blind Gray Wolf was keener than the little red-eyed fox +of the North. Her pointed nose slowly followed Sandy's progress. She +heard a dry stick crack under his feet three hundred yards away. She +caught the metallic click of his gun-barrel as it struck a birch +sapling. The moment she lost Sandy in the wind she whined and rubbed +herself against Kazan and trotted a few steps to the southwest. + +At times such as this Kazan seldom refused to take guidance from her. +They trotted away side by side and by the time Sandy was creeping up +snake-like with the wind in his face, Kazan was peering from the fringe +of river brush down upon the canoe on the white strip of sand. When +Sandy returned, after an hour of futile stalking, two fresh tracks led +straight down to the canoe. He looked at them in amazement and then a +sinister grin wrinkled his ugly face. He chuckled as he went to his kit +and dug out a small rubber bag. From this he drew a tightly corked +bottle, filled with gelatine capsules. In each little capsule were five +grains of strychnine. There were dark hints that once upon a time Sandy +McTrigger had tried one of these capsules by dropping it in a cup of +coffee and giving it to a man, but the police had never proved it. He +was expert in the use of poison. Probably he had killed a thousand foxes +in his time, and he chuckled again as he counted out a dozen of the +capsules and thought how easy it would be to get this inquisitive pair +of wolves. Two or three days before he had killed a caribou, and each of +the capsules he now rolled up in a little ball of deer fat, doing the +work with short sticks in place of his fingers, so that there would be +no man-smell clinging to the death-baits. Before sundown Sandy set out +at right-angles over the plain, planting the baits. Most of them he hung +to low bushes. Others he dropped in worn rabbit and caribou trails. Then +he returned to the creek and cooked his supper. + +Then next morning he was up early, and off to the poison baits. The +first bait was untouched. The second was as he had planted it. The third +was gone. A thrill shot through Sandy as he looked about him. Somewhere +within a radius of two or three hundred yards he would find his game. +Then his glance fell to the ground under the bush where he had hung the +poison capsule and an oath broke from his lips. The bait had not been +eaten. The caribou fat lay scattered under the bush and still imbedded +in the largest portion of it was the little white capsule--unbroken. It +was Sandy's first experience with a wild creature whose instincts were +sharpened by blindness, and he was puzzled. He had never known this to +happen before. If a fox or a wolf could be lured to the point of +touching a bait, it followed that the bait was eaten. Sandy went on to +the fourth and the fifth baits. They were untouched. The sixth was torn +to pieces, like the third. In this instance the capsule was broken and +the white powder scattered. Two more poison baits Sandy found pulled +down in this manner. He knew that Kazan and Gray Wolf had done the work, +for he found the marks of their feet in a dozen different places. The +accumulated bad humor of weeks of futile labor found vent in his +disappointment and anger. At last he had found something tangible to +curse. The failure of his poison baits he accepted as a sort of climax +to his general bad luck. Everything was against him, he believed, and he +made up his mind to return to Red Gold City. Early in the afternoon he +launched his canoe and drifted down-stream with the current. He was +content to let the current do all of the work to-day, and he used his +paddle just enough to keep his slender craft head on. He leaned back +comfortably and smoked his pipe, with the old rifle between his knees. +The wind was in his face and he kept a sharp watch for game. + +It was late in the afternoon when Kazan and Gray Wolf came out on a +sand-bar five or six miles down-stream. Kazan was lapping up the cool +water when Sandy drifted quietly around a bend a hundred yards above +them. If the wind had been right, or if Sandy had been using his paddle, +Gray Wolf would have detected danger. It was the metallic click-click of +the old-fashioned lock of Sandy's rifle that awakened her to a sense of +peril. Instantly she was thrilled by the nearness of it. Kazan heard the +sound and stopped drinking to face it. In that moment Sandy pressed the +trigger. A belch of smoke, a roar of gunpowder, and Kazan felt a red-hot +stream of fire pass with the swiftness of a lightning-flash through his +brain. He stumbled back, his legs gave way under him, and he crumpled +down in a limp heap. Gray Wolf darted like a streak off into the bush. +Blind, she had not seen Kazan wilt down upon the white sand. Not until +she was a quarter of a mile away from the terrifying thunder of the +white man's rifle did she stop and wait for him. + +Sandy McTrigger grounded his canoe on the sand-bar with an exultant +yell. + +"Got you, you old devil, didn't I?" he cried. "I'd 'a' got the other, +too, if I'd 'a' had something besides this damned old relic!" + +He turned Kazan's head over with the butt of his gun, and the leer of +satisfaction in his face gave place to a sudden look of amazement. For +the first time he saw the collar about Kazan's neck. + +"My Gawd, it ain't a wolf," he gasped. "It's a dog, Sandy McTrigger--_a +dog!"_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +SANDY'S METHOD + + +McTrigger dropped on his knees in the sand. The look of exultation was +gone from his face. He twisted the collar about the dog's limp neck +until he came to the worn plate, on which he could make out the faintly +engraved letters _K-a-z-a-n_. He spelled the letters out one by one, and +the look in his face was of one who still disbelieved what he had seen +and heard. + +"A dog!" he exclaimed again. "A dog, Sandy McTrigger an' a--a beauty!" + +He rose to his feet and looked down on his victim. A pool of blood lay +in the white sand at the end of Kazan's nose. After a moment Sandy bent +over to see where his bullet had struck. His inspection filled him with +a new and greater interest. The heavy ball from the muzzle-loader had +struck Kazan fairly on top of the head. It was a glancing blow that had +not even broken the skull, and like a flash Sandy understood the +quivering and twitching of Kazan's shoulders and legs. He had thought +that they were the last muscular throes of death. But Kazan was not +dying. He was only stunned, and would be on his feet again in a few +minutes. Sandy was a connoisseur of dogs--of dogs that had worn sledge +traces. He had lived among them two-thirds of his life. He could tell +their age, their value, and a part of their history at a glance. In the +snow he could tell the trail of a Mackenzie hound from that of a +Malemute, and the track of an Eskimo dog from that of a Yukon husky. He +looked at Kazan's feet. They were wolf feet, and he chuckled. Kazan was +part wild. He was big and powerful, and Sandy thought of the coming +winter, and of the high prices that dogs would bring at Red Gold City. +He went to the canoe and returned with a roll of stout moose-hide +babiche. Then he sat down cross-legged in front of Kazan and began +making a muzzle. He did this by plaiting babiche thongs in the same +manner that one does in making the web of a snow-shoe. In ten minutes he +had the muzzle over Kazan's nose and fastened securely about his neck. +To the dog's collar he then fastened a ten-foot rope of babiche. After +that he sat back and waited for Kazan to come to life. + +When Kazan first lifted his head he could not see. There was a red film +before his eyes. But this passed away swiftly and he saw the man. His +first instinct was to rise to his feet. Three times he fell back before +he could stand up. Sandy was squatted six feet from him, holding the end +of the babiche, and grinning. Kazan's fangs gleamed back. He growled, +and the crest along his spine rose menacingly. Sandy jumped to his feet. + +"Guess I know what you're figgering on," he said. "I've had _your_ kind +before. The dam' wolves have turned you bad, an' you'll need a whole lot +of club before you're right again. Now, look here." + +Sandy had taken the precaution of bringing a thick club along with the +babiche. He picked it up from where he had dropped it in the sand. +Kazan's strength had fairly returned to him now. He was no longer dizzy. +The mist had cleared away from his eyes. Before him he saw once more his +old enemy, man--man and the club. All of the wild ferocity of his +nature was roused in an instant. Without reasoning he knew that Gray +Wolf was gone, and that this man was accountable for her going. He knew +that this man had also brought him his own hurt, and what he ascribed to +the man he also attributed to the club. In his newer undertaking of +things, born of freedom and Gray Wolf, Man and Club were one and +inseparable. With a snarl he leaped at Sandy. The man was not expecting +a direct assault, and before he could raise his club or spring aside +Kazan had landed full on his chest. The muzzle about Kazan's jaws saved +him. Fangs that would have torn his throat open snapped harmlessly. +Under the weight of the dog's body he fell back, as if struck down by a +catapult. + +As quick as a cat he was on his feet again, with the end of the babiche +twisted several times about his hand. Kazan leaped again, and this time +he was met by a furious swing of the club. It smashed against his +shoulder, and sent him down in the sand. Before he could recover Sandy +was upon him, with all the fury of a man gone mad. He shortened the +babiche by twisting it again and again about his hand, and the club rose +and fell with the skill and strength of one long accustomed to its use. +The first blows served only to add to Kazan's hatred of man, and the +ferocity and fearlessness of his attacks. Again and again he leaped in, +and each time the club fell upon him with a force that threatened to +break his bones. There was a tense hard look about Sandy's cruel mouth. +He had never known a dog like this before, and he was a bit nervous, +even with Kazan muzzled. Three times Kazan's fangs would have sunk deep +in his flesh had it not been for the babiche. And if the thongs about +his jaws should slip, or break--. + +Sandy followed up the thought with a smashing blow that landed on +Kazan's head, and once more the old battler fell limp upon the sand. +McTrigger's breath was coming in quick gasps. He was almost winded. Not +until the club slipped from his hand did he realize how desperate the +fight had been. Before Kazan recovered from the blow that had stunned +him Sandy examined the muzzle and strengthened it by adding another +babiche thong. Then he dragged Kazan to a log that high water had +thrown up on the shore a few yards away and made the end of the babiche +rope fast to a dead snag. After that he pulled his canoe higher up on +the sand, and began to prepare camp for the night. + +For some minutes after Kazan's stunned senses had become normal he lay +motionless, watching Sandy McTrigger. Every bone in his body gave him +pain. His jaws were sore and bleeding. His upper lip was smashed where +the club had fallen. One eye was almost closed. Several times Sandy came +near, much pleased at what he regarded as the good results of the +beating. Each time he brought the club. The third time he prodded Kazan +with it, and the dog snarled and snapped savagely at the end of it. That +was what Sandy wanted--it was an old trick of the dog-slaver. Instantly +he was using the club again, until with a whining cry Kazan slunk under +the protection of the snag to which he was fastened. He could scarcely +drag himself. His right forepaw was smashed. His hindquarters sank under +him. For a time after this second beating he could not have escaped had +he been free. + +Sandy was in unusually good humor. + +"I'll take the devil out of you all right," he told Kazan for the +twentieth time. "There's nothin' like beatin's to make dogs an' wimmin +live up to the mark. A month from now you'll be worth two hundred +dollars or I'll skin you alive!" + +Three or four times before dusk Sandy worked to rouse Kazan's animosity. +But there was no longer any desire left in Kazan to fight. His two +terrific beatings, and the crushing blow of the bullet against his +skull, had made him sick. He lay with his head between his forepaws, his +eyes closed, and did not see McTrigger. He paid no attention to the meat +that was thrown under his nose. He did not know when the last of the sun +sank behind the western forests, or when the darkness came. But at last +something roused him from his stupor. To his dazed and sickened brain it +came like a call from out of the far past, and he raised his head and +listened. Out on the sand McTrigger had built a fire, and the man stood +in the red glow of it now, facing the dark shadows beyond the shoreline. +He, too, was listening. What had roused Kazan came again now--the lost +mourning cry of Gray Wolf far out on the plain. + +With a whine Kazan was on his feet, tugging at the babiche. Sandy +snatched up his club, and leaped toward him. + +"Down, you brute!" he commanded. + +In the firelight the club rose and fell with ferocious quickness. When +McTrigger returned to the fire he was breathing hard again. He tossed +his club beside the blankets he had spread out for a bed. It was a +different looking club now. It was covered with blood and hair. + +"Guess that'll take the spirit out of him," he chuckled. "It'll do +that--or kill 'im!" + +Several times that night Kazan heard Gray Wolf's call. He whined softly +in response, fearing the club. He watched the fire until the last embers +of it died out, and then cautiously dragged himself from under the snag. +Two or three times he tried to stand on his feet, but fell back each +time. His legs were not broken, but the pain of standing on them was +excruciating. He was hot and feverish. All that night he had craved a +drink of water. When Sandy crawled out from between his blankets in the +early dawn he gave him both meat and water. Kazan drank the water, but +would not touch the meat. Sandy regarded the change in him with +satisfaction. By the time the sun was up he had finished his breakfast +and was ready to leave. He approached Kazan fearlessly now, without the +club. Untying the babiche he dragged the dog to the canoe. Kazan slunk +in the sand while his captor fastened the end of the hide rope to the +stern of the canoe. Sandy grinned. What was about to happen would be fun +for him. In the Yukon he had learned how to take the spirit out of dogs. + +He pushed off, bow foremost. Bracing himself with his paddle he then +began to pull Kazan toward the water. In a few moments Kazan stood with +his forefeet planted in the damp sand at the edge of the stream. For a +brief interval Sandy allowed the babiche to fall slack. Then with a +sudden powerful pull he jerked Kazan out into the water. Instantly he +sent the canoe into midstream, swung it quickly down with the current, +and began to paddle enough to keep the babiche taut about his victim's +neck. In spite of his sickness and injuries Kazan was now compelled to +swim to keep his head above water. In the wash of the canoe, and with +Sandy's strokes growing steadily stronger, his position became each +moment one of increasing torture. At times his shaggy head was pulled +completely under water. At others Sandy would wait until he had drifted +alongside, and then thrust him under with the end of his paddle. He grew +weaker. At the end of a half-mile he was drowning. Not until then did +Sandy pull him alongside and drag him into the canoe. The dog fell limp +and gasping in the bottom. Brutal though Sandy's methods had been, they +had worked his purpose. In Kazan there was no longer a desire to fight. +He no longer struggled for freedom. He knew that this man was his +master, and for the time his spirit was gone. All he desired now was to +be allowed to lie in the bottom of the canoe, out of reach of the club, +and safe from the water. The club lay between him and the man. The end +of it was within a foot or two of his nose, and what he smelled was his +own blood. + +For five days and five nights the journey down-stream continued, and +McTrigger's process of civilizing Kazan was continued in three more +beatings with the club, and another resort to the water torture. On the +morning of the sixth day they reached Red Gold City, and McTrigger put +up his tent close to the river. Somewhere he obtained a chain for Kazan, +and after fastening the dog securely back of the tent he cut off the +babiche muzzle. + +"You can't put on meat in a muzzle," he told his prisoner. "An' I want +you to git strong--an' fierce as hell. I've got an idee. It's an idee +you can lick your weight in wildcats. We'll pull off a stunt pretty soon +that'll fill our pockets with dust. I've done it afore, and we can do it +_here_. Wolf an' dog--s'elp me Gawd but it'll be a drawin' card!" + +Twice a day after this he brought fresh raw meat to Kazan. Quickly +Kazan's spirit and courage returned to him. The soreness left his limbs. +His battered jaws healed. And after the fourth day each time that Sandy +came with meat he greeted him with the challenge of his snarling fangs. +McTrigger did not beat him now. He gave him no fish, no tallow and +meal--nothing but raw meat. He traveled five miles up the river to bring +in the fresh entrail of a caribou that had been killed. One day Sandy +brought another man with him and when the stranger came a step too near +Kazan made a sudden swift lunge at him. The man jumped back with a +startled oath. + +"He'll do," he growled. "He's lighter by ten or fifteen pounds than the +Dane, but he's got the teeth, an' the quickness, an' he'll give a good +show before he goes under." + +"I'll make you a bet of twenty-five per cent. of my share that he don't +go under," offered Sandy. + +"Done!" said the other. "How long before he'll be ready?" + +Sandy thought a moment. + +"Another week," he said. "He won't have his weight before then. A week +from to-day, we'll say. Next Tuesday night. Does that suit you, Harker?" + +Harker nodded. + +"Next Tuesday night," he agreed. Then he added, "I'll make it a _half_ +of my share that the Dane kills your wolf-dog." + +Sandy took a long look at Kazan. + +"I'll just take you on that," he said. Then, as he shook Harker's hand, +"I don't believe there's a dog between here and the Yukon that can kill +the wolf!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +PROFESSOR McGILL + + +Red Gold City was ripe for a night of relaxation. There had been some +gambling, a few fights and enough liquor to create excitement now and +then, but the presence of the mounted police had served to keep things +unusually tame compared with events a few hundred miles farther north, +in the Dawson country. The entertainment proposed by Sandy McTrigger and +Jan Harker met with excited favor. The news spread for twenty miles +about Red Gold City and there had never been greater excitement in the +town than on the afternoon and night of the big fight. This was largely +because Kazan and the huge Dane had been placed on exhibition, each dog +in a specially made cage of his own, and a fever of betting began. Three +hundred men, each of whom was paying five dollars to see the battle, +viewed the gladiators through the bars of their cages. Harker's dog was +a combination of Great Dane and mastiff, born in the North, and bred to +the traces. Betting favored him by the odds of two to one. Occasionally +it ran three to one. At these odds there was plenty of Kazan money. +Those who were risking their money on him were the older wilderness +men--men who had spent their lives among dogs, and who knew what the red +glint in Kazan's eyes meant. An old Kootenay miner spoke low in +another's ear: + +"I'd bet on 'im even. I'd give odds if I had to. He'll fight all around +the Dane. The Dane won't have no method." + +"But he's got the weight," said the other dubiously. "Look at his jaws, +an' his shoulders--" + +"An' his big feet, an' his soft throat, an' the clumsy thickness of his +belly," interrupted the Kootenay man. "For Gawd's sake, man, take my +word for it, an' don't put your money on the Dane!" + +Others thrust themselves between them. At first Kazan had snarled at all +these faces about him. But now he lay back against the boarded side of +the cage and eyed them sullenly from between his forepaws. + +The fight was to be pulled off in Barker's place, a combination of +saloon and cafe. The benches and tables had been cleared out and in the +center of the one big room a cage ten feet square rested on a platform +three and a half feet from the floor. Seats for the three hundred +spectators were drawn closely around this. Suspended just above the open +top of the cage were two big oil lamps with glass reflectors. + +It was eight o'clock when Harker, McTrigger and two other men bore Kazan +to the arena by means of the wooden bars that projected from the bottom +of his cage. The big Dane was already in the fighting cage. He stood +blinking his eyes in the brilliant light of the reflecting lamps. He +pricked up his ears when he saw Kazan. Kazan did not show his fangs. +Neither revealed the expected animosity. It was the first they had seen +of each other, and a murmur of disappointment swept the ranks of the +three hundred men. The Dane remained as motionless as a rock when Kazan +was prodded from his own cage into the fighting cage. He did not leap or +snarl. He regarded Kazan with a dubious questioning poise to his +splendid head, and then looked again to the expectant and excited faces +of the waiting men. For a few moments Kazan stood stiff-legged, facing +the Dane. Then his shoulders dropped, and he, too, coolly faced the +crowd that had expected a fight to the death. A laugh of derision swept +through the closely seated rows. Catcalls, jeering taunts flung at +McTrigger and Harker, and angry voices demanding their money back +mingled with a tumult of growing discontent. Sandy's face was red with +mortification and rage. The blue veins in Barker's forehead had swollen +twice their normal size. He shook his fist in the face of the crowd, and +shouted: + +"Wait! Give 'em a chance, you dam' fools!" + +At his words every voice was stilled. Kazan had turned. He was facing +the huge Dane. And the Dane had turned his eyes to Kazan. Cautiously, +prepared for a lunge or a sidestep, Kazan advanced a little. The Dane's +shoulders bristled. He, too, advanced upon Kazan. Four feet apart they +stood rigid. One could have heard a whisper in the room now. Sandy and +Harker, standing close to the cage, scarcely breathed. Splendid in every +limb and muscle, warriors of a hundred fights, and fearless to the point +of death, the two half-wolf victims of man stood facing each other. None +could see the questioning look in their brute eyes. None knew that in +this thrilling moment the unseen hand of the wonderful Spirit God of the +wilderness hovered between them, and that one of its miracles was +descending upon them. It was _understanding_. Meeting in the +open--rivals in the traces--they would have been rolling in the throes +of terrific battle. But _here_ came that mute appeal of brotherhood. In +the final moment, when only a step separated them, and when men expected +to see the first mad lunge, the splendid Dane slowly raised his head and +looked over Kazan's back through the glare of the lights. Harker +trembled, and under his breath he cursed. The Dane's throat was open to +Kazan. But between the beasts had passed the voiceless pledge of peace. +Kazan did not leap. He turned. And shoulder to shoulder--splendid in +their contempt of man--they stood and looked through the bars of their +prison into the one of human faces. + +A roar burst from the crowd--a roar of anger, of demand, of threat. In +his rage Harker drew a revolver and leveled it at the Dane. Above the +tumult of the crowd a single voice stopped him. + +"Hold!" it demanded. "Hold--in the name of the law!" + +For a moment there was silence. Every face turned in the direction of +the voice. Two men stood on chairs behind the last row. One was Sergeant +Brokaw, of the Royal Northwest Mounted. It was he who had spoken. He was +holding up a hand, commanding silence and attention. On the chair beside +him stood another man. He was thin, with drooping shoulders, and a pale +smooth face--a little man, whose physique and hollow cheeks told nothing +of the years he had spent close up along the raw edge of the Arctic. It +was he who spoke now, while the sergeant held up his hand. His voice was +low and quiet: + +"I'll give the owners five hundred dollars for those dogs," he said. + +Every man in the room heard the offer. Harker looked at Sandy. For an +instant their heads were close together. + +"They won't fight, and they'll make good team-mates," the little man +went on. "I'll give the owners five hundred dollars." + +Harker raised a hand. + +"Make it six," he said. "Make it six and they're yours." + +The little man hesitated. Then he nodded. + +"I'll give you six hundred," he agreed. + +Murmurs of discontent rose throughout the crowd. Harker climbed to the +edge of the platform. + +"We ain't to blame because they wouldn't fight," he shouted, "but if +there's any of you small enough to want your money back you can git it +as you go out. The dogs laid down on us, that's all. We ain't to blame." + +The little man was edging his way between the chairs, accompanied by the +sergeant of police. With his pale face close to the sapling bars of the +cage he looked at Kazan and the big Dane. + +"I guess we'll be good friends," he said, and he spoke so low that only +the dogs heard his voice. "It's a big price, but we'll charge it to the +Smithsonian, lads. I'm going to need a couple of four-footed friends of +your moral caliber." + +And no one knew why Kazan and the Dane drew nearer to the little +scientist's side of the cage as he pulled out a big roll of bills and +counted out six hundred dollars for Harker and Sandy McTrigger. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ALONE IN DARKNESS + + +Never had the terror and loneliness of blindness fallen upon Gray Wolf +as in the days that followed the shooting of Kazan and his capture by +Sandy McTrigger. For hours after the shot she crouched in the bush back +from the river, waiting for him to come to her. She had faith that he +would come, as he had come a thousand times before, and she lay close on +her belly, sniffing the air, and whining when it brought no scent of her +mate. Day and night were alike an endless chaos of darkness to her now, +but she knew when the sun went down. She sensed the first deepening +shadows of evening, and she knew that the stars were out, and that the +river lay in moonlight. It was a night to roam, and after a time she +moved restlessly about in a small circle on the plain, and sent out her +first inquiring call for Kazan. Up from the river came the pungent odor +of smoke, and instinctively she knew that it was this smoke, and the +nearness of man, that was keeping Kazan from her. But she went no nearer +than that first circle made by her padded feet. Blindness had taught her +to wait. Since the day of the battle on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had +destroyed her eyes, Kazan had never failed her. Three times she called +for him in the early night. Then she made herself a nest under a +_banskian_ shrub, and waited until dawn. + +Just how she knew when night blotted out the last glow of the sun, so +without seeing she knew when day came. Not until she felt the warmth of +the sun on her back did her anxiety overcome her caution. Slowly she +moved toward the river, sniffing the air and whining. There was no +longer the smell of smoke in the air, and she could not catch the scent +of man. She followed her own trail back to the sand-bar, and in the +fringe of thick bush overhanging the white shore of the stream she +stopped and listened. After a little she scrambled down and went +straight to the spot where she and Kazan were drinking when the shot +came. And there her nose struck the sand still wet and thick with +Kazan's blood. She knew it was the blood of her mate, for the scent of +him was all about her in the sand, mingled with the man-smell of Sandy +McTrigger. She sniffed the trail of his body to the edge of the stream, +where Sandy had dragged him to the canoe. She found the fallen tree to +which he had been tied. And then she came upon one of the two clubs that +Sandy had used to beat wounded Kazan into submissiveness. It was covered +with blood and hair, and all at once Gray Wolf lay back on her haunches +and turned her blind face to the sky, and there rose from her throat a +cry for Kazan that drifted for miles on the wings of the south wind. +Never had Gray Wolf given quite that cry before. It was not the "call" +that comes with the moonlit nights, and neither was it the hunt-cry, nor +the she-wolf's yearning for matehood. It carried with it the lament of +death. And after that one cry Gray Wolf slunk back to the fringe of bush +over the river, and lay with her face turned to the stream. + +A strange terror fell upon her. She had grown accustomed to darkness, +but never before had she been _alone_ in that darkness. Always there +had been the guardianship of Kazan's presence. She heard the clucking +sound of a spruce hen in the bush a few yards away, and now that sound +came to her as if from out of another world. A ground-mouse rustled +through the grass close to her forepaws, and she snapped at it, and +closed her teeth on a rock. The muscles of her shoulders twitched +tremulously and she shivered as if stricken by intense cold. She was +terrified by the darkness that shut out the world from her, and she +pawed at her closed eyes, as if she might open them to light. Early in +the afternoon she wandered back on the plain. It was different. It +frightened her, and soon she returned to the beach, and snuggled down +under the tree where Kazan had lain. She was not so frightened here. The +smell of Kazan was strong about her. For an hour she lay motionless, +with her head resting on the club clotted with his hair and blood. Night +found her still there. And when the moon and the stars came out she +crawled back into the pit in the white sand that Kazan's body had made +under the tree. + +With dawn she went down to the edge of the stream to drink. She could +not see that the day was almost as dark as night, and that the +gray-black sky was a chaos of slumbering storm. But she could smell the +presence of it in the thick air, and could _feel_ the forked flashes of +lightning that rolled up with the dense pall from the south and west. +The distant rumbling of thunder grew louder, and she huddled herself +again under the tree. For hours the storm crashed over her, and the rain +fell in a deluge. When it had finished she slunk out from her shelter +like a thing beaten. Vainly she sought for one last scent of Kazan. The +club was washed clean. Again the sand was white where Kazan's blood had +reddened it. Even under the tree there was no sign of him left. + +Until now only the terror of being alone in the pit of darkness that +enveloped her had oppressed Gray Wolf. With afternoon came hunger. It +was this hunger that drew her from the sand-bar, and she wandered back +into the plain. A dozen times she scented game, and each time it evaded +her. Even a ground-mouse that she cornered under a root, and dug out +with her paws, escaped her fangs. + +Thirty-six hours before this Kazan and Gray Wolf had left a half of +their last kill a mile of two farther back on the plain. The kill was +one of the big barren rabbits, and Gray Wolf turned in its direction. +She did not require sight to find it. In her was developed to its finest +point that sixth sense of the animal kingdom, the sense of orientation, +and as straight as a pigeon might have winged its flight she cut through +the bush to the spot where they had cached the rabbit. A white fox had +been there ahead of her, and she found only scattered bits of hair and +fur. What the fox had left the moose-birds and bush-jays had carried +away. Hungrily Gray Wolf turned back to the river. + +That night she slept again where Kazan had lain, and three times she +called for him without answer. A heavy dew fell, and it drenched the +last vestige of her mate's scent out of the sand. But still through the +day that followed, and the day that followed that, blind Gray Wolf clung +to the narrow rim of white sand. On the fourth day her hunger reached a +point where she gnawed the bark from willow bushes. It was on this day +that she made a discovery. She was drinking, when her sensitive nose +touched something in the water's edge that was smooth, and bore a faint +odor of flesh. It was one of the big northern river clams. She pawed it +ashore, sniffing at the hard shell. Then she crunched it between her +teeth. She had never tasted sweeter meat than that which she found +inside, and she began hunting for other clams. She found many of them, +and ate until she was no longer hungry. For three days more she remained +on the bar. + +And then, one night, the call came to her. It set her quivering with a +strange new excitement--something that may have been a new hope, and in +the moonlight she trotted nervously up and down the shining strip of +sand, facing now the north, and now the south, and then the east and the +west--her head flung up, listening, as if in the soft wind of the night +she was trying to locate the whispering lure of a wonderful voice. And +whatever it was that came to her came from out of the south and east. +Off there--across the barren, far beyond the outer edge of the northern +timber-line--was _home_. And off there, in her brute way, she reasoned +that she must find Kazan. The call did not come from their old windfall +home in the swamp. It came from beyond that, and in a flashing vision +there rose through her blindness a picture of the towering Sun Rock, of +the winding trail that led to it, and the cabin on the plain. It was +there that blindness had come to her. It was there that day had ended, +and eternal night had begun. And it was there that she had mothered her +first-born. Nature had registered these things so that they could never +be wiped out of her memory, and when the call came it was from the +sunlit world where she had last known light and life and had last seen +the moon and the stars in the blue night of the skies. + +And to that call she responded, leaving the river and its food behind +her--straight out into the face of darkness and starvation, no longer +fearing death or the emptiness of the world she could not see; for ahead +of her, two hundred miles away, she could see the Sun Rock, the winding +trail, the nest of her first-born between the two big rocks--_and +Kazan_! + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + +Sixty miles farther north Kazan lay at the end of his fine steel chain, +watching little Professor McGill mixing a pail of tallow and bran. A +dozen yards from him lay the big Dane, his huge jaws drooling in +anticipation of the unusual feast which McGill was preparing. He showed +signs of pleasure when McGill approached him with a quart of the +mixture, and he gulped it between his huge jaws. The little man with the +cold blue eyes and the gray-blond hair stroked his back without fear. +His attitude was different when he turned to Kazan. His movements were +filled with caution, and yet his eyes and his lips were smiling, and he +gave the wolf-dog no evidence of his fear, if it could be called fear. + +The little professor, who was up in the north country for the +Smithsonian Institution, had spent a third of his life among dogs. He +loved them, and understood them. He had written a number of magazine +articles on dog intellect that had attracted wide attention among +naturalists. It was largely because he loved dogs, and understood them +more than most men, that he had bought Kazan and the big Dane on the +night when Sandy McTrigger and his partner had tried to get them to +fight to the death in the Red Gold City saloon. The refusal of the two +splendid beasts to kill each other for the pleasure of the three hundred +men who had assembled to witness the fight delighted him. He had already +planned a paper on the incident. Sandy had told him the story of Kazan's +capture, and of his wild mate, Gray Wolf, and the professor had asked +him a thousand questions. But each day Kazan puzzled him more. No amount +of kindness on his part could bring a responsive gleam in Kazan's eyes. +Not once did Kazan signify a willingness to become friends. And yet he +did not snarl at McGill, or snap at his hands when they came within +reach. Quite frequently Sandy McTrigger came over to the little cabin +where McGill was staying, and three times Kazan leaped at the end of +his chain to get at him, and his white fangs gleamed as long as Sandy +was in sight. Alone with McGill he became quiet. Something told him that +McGill had come as a friend that night when he and the big Dane stood +shoulder to shoulder in the cage that had been built for a slaughter +pen. Away down in his brute heart he held McGill apart from other men. +He had no desire to harm him. He tolerated him, but showed none of the +growing affection of the huge Dane. It was this fact that puzzled +McGill. He had never before known a dog that he could not make love him. + +To-day he placed the tallow and bran before Kazan, and the smile in his +face gave way to a look of perplexity. Kazan's lips had drawn suddenly +back. A fierce snarl rolled deep in his throat. The hair along his spine +stood up. His muscles twitched. Instinctively the professor turned. +Sandy McTrigger had come up quietly behind him. His brutal face wore a +grin as he looked at Kazan. + +"It's a fool job--tryin' to make friends with _him_" he said. Then he +added, with a sudden interested gleam in his eyes, "When you startin'?" + +"With first frost," replied McGill. "It ought to come soon. I'm going to +join Sergeant Conroy and his party at Fond du Lac by the first of +October." + +"And you're going up to Fond du Lac--alone?" queried Sandy. "Why don't +you take a man?" + +The little professor laughed softly. + +"Why?" he asked. "I've been through the Athabasca waterways a dozen +times, and know the trail as well as I know Broadway. Besides, I like to +be alone. And the work isn't too hard, with the currents all flowing to +the north and east." + +Sandy was looking at the Dane, with his back to McGill. An exultant +gleam shot for an instant into his eyes. + +"You're taking the dogs?" + +"Yes." + +Sandy lighted his pipe, and spoke like one strangely curious. + +"Must cost a heap to take these trips o' yourn, don't it?" + +"My last cost about seven thousand dollars. This will cost five," said +McGill. + +"Gawd!" breathed Sandy. "An' you carry all that along with you! Ain't +you afraid--something might happen--?" + +The little professor was looking the other way now. The carelessness in +his face and manner changed. His blue eyes grew a shade darker. A hard +smile which Sandy did not see hovered about his lips for an instant. +Then he turned, laughing. + +"I'm a very light sleeper," he said. "A footstep at night rouses me. +Even a man's breathing awakes me, when I make up my mind that I must be +on my guard. And, besides"--he drew from his pocket a blue-steeled +Savage automatic--"I know how to use _this_." He pointed to a knot in +the wall of the cabin. "Observe," he said. Five times he fired at twenty +paces, and when Sandy went up to look at the knot he gave a gasp. There +was one jagged hole where the knot had been. + +"Pretty good," he grinned. "Most men couldn't do better'n that with a +rifle." + +When Sandy left, McGill followed him with a suspicious gleam in his +eyes, and a curious smile on his lips. Then he turned to Kazan. + +"Guess you've got him figgered out about right, old man," he laughed +softly. "I don't blame you very much for wanting to get him by the +throat. Perhaps--" + +He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and went into the cabin. Kazan +dropped his head between his forepaws, and lay still, with wide-open +eyes. It was late afternoon, early in September, and each night brought +now the first chill breaths of autumn. Kazan watched the last glow of +the sun as it faded out of the southern skies. Darkness always followed +swiftly after that, and with darkness came more fiercely his wild +longing for freedom. Night after night he had gnawed at his steel chain. +Night after night he had watched the stars, and the moon, and had +listened for Gray Wolf's call, while the big Dane lay sleeping. To-night +it was colder than usual, and the keen tang of the wind that came fresh +from the west stirred him strangely. It set his blood afire with what +the Indians call the Frost Hunger. Lethargic summer was gone and the +days and nights of hunting were at hand. He wanted to leap out into +freedom and run until he was exhausted, with Gray Wolf at his side. He +knew that Gray Wolf was off there--where the stars hung low in the clear +sky, and that she was waiting. He strained at the end of his chain, and +whined. All that night he was restless--more restless than he had been +at any time before. Once, in the far distance, he heard a cry that he +thought was the cry of Gray Wolf, and his answer roused McGill from deep +sleep. It was dawn, and the little professor dressed himself and came +out of the cabin. With satisfaction he noted the exhilarating snap in +the air. He wet his fingers and held them above his head, chuckling when +he found the wind had swung into the north. He went to Kazan, and talked +to him. Among other things he said, "This'll put the black flies to +sleep, Kazan. A day or two more of it and we'll start." + +Five days later McGill led first the Dane, and then Kazan, to a packed +canoe. Sandy McTrigger saw them off, and Kazan watched for a chance to +leap at him. Sandy kept his distance, and McGill watched the two with a +thought that set the blood running swiftly behind the mask of his +careless smile. They had slipped a mile down-stream when he leaned over +and laid a fearless hand on Kazan's head. Something in the touch of that +hand, and in the professor's voice, kept Kazan from a desire to snap at +him. He tolerated the friendship with expressionless eyes and a +motionless body. + +"I was beginning to fear I wouldn't have much sleep, old boy," chuckled +McGill ambiguously, "but I guess I can take a nap now and then with +_you_ along!" + +He made camp that night fifteen miles up the lake shore. The big Dane he +fastened to a sapling twenty yards from his small silk tent, but Kazan's +chain he made fast to the butt of a stunted birch that held down the +tent-flap. Before he went into the tent for the night McGill pulled out +his automatic and examined it with care. + +For three days the journey continued without a mishap along the shore of +Lake Athabasca. On the fourth night McGill pitched his tent in a clump +of _banskian_ pine a hundred yards back from the water. All that day the +wind had come steadily from behind them, and for at least a half of the +day the professor had been watching Kazan closely. From the west there +had now and then come a scent that stirred him uneasily. Since noon he +had sniffed that wind. Twice McGill had heard him growling deep in his +throat, and once, when the scent had come stronger than usual, he had +bared his fangs, and the bristles stood up along his spine. For an hour +after striking camp the little professor did not build a fire, but sat +looking up the shore of the lake through his hunting glass. It was dusk +when he returned to where he had put up his tent and chained the dogs. +For a few moments he stood unobserved, looking at the wolf-dog. Kazan +was still uneasy. He lay _facing_ the west. McGill made note of this, +for the big Dane lay behind Kazan--to the east. Under ordinary +conditions Kazan would have faced him. He was sure now that there was +something in the west wind. A little shiver ran up his back as he +thought of what it might be. + +Behind a rock he built a very small fire, and prepared supper. After +this he went into the tent, and when he came out he carried a blanket +under his arm. He chuckled as he stood for a moment over Kazan. + +"We're not going to sleep in there to-night, old hoy," he said. "I don't +like what you've found in the west wind. It may he a--_thunder-storm!_" +He laughed at his joke, and buried himself in a clump of stunted +_banskians_ thirty paces from the tent. Here he rolled himself in his +blanket, and went to sleep. + +It was a quiet starlit night, and hours afterward Kazan dropped his nose +between his forepaws and drowsed. It was the snap of a twig that roused +him. The sound did not awaken the sluggish Dane but instantly Kazan's +head was alert, his keen nostrils sniffing the air. What he had smelled +all day was heavy about him now. He lay still and quivering. Slowly, +from out of the _banskians_ behind the tent, there came a figure. It was +not the little professor. It approached cautiously, with lowered head +and hunched shoulders, and the starlight revealed the murderous face of +Sandy McTrigger. Kazan crouched low. He laid his head flat between his +forepaws. His long fangs gleamed. But he made no sound that betrayed his +concealment under a thick _banskian_ shrub. Step by step Sandy +approached, and at last he reached the flap of the tent. He did not +carry a club or a whip in his hand now. In the place of either of those +was the glitter of steel. At the door to the tent he paused, and peered +in, his back to Kazan. + +Silently, swiftly--the wolf now in every movement, Kazan came to his +feet. He forgot the chain that held him. Ten feet away stood the enemy +he hated above all others he had ever known. Every ounce of strength in +his splendid body gathered itself for the spring. And then he leaped. +This time the chain did not pull him back, almost neck-broken. Age and +the elements had weakened the leather collar he had worn since the days +of his slavery in the traces, and it gave way with a snap. Sandy turned, +and in a second leap Kazan's fangs sank into the flesh of his arm. With +a startled cry the man fell, and as they rolled over on the ground the +big Dane's deep voice rolled out in thunderous alarm as he tugged at his +leash. In the fall Kazan's hold was broken. In an instant he was on his +feet, ready for another attack. And then the change came. He was +_free_. The collar was gone from his neck. The forest, the stars, the +whispering wind were all about him. _Here_ were men, and off there +was--Gray Wolf! His ears dropped, and he turned swiftly, and slipped +like a shadow back into the glorious freedom of his world. + +A hundred yards away something stopped him for an instant. It was not +the big Dane's voice, but the sharp _crack--crack--crack_, of the little +professor's automatic. And above that sound there rose the voice of +Sandy McTrigger in a weird and terrible cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AN EMPTY WORLD + + +Mile after mile Kazan went on. For a time he was oppressed by the +shivering note of death that had come to him in Sandy McTrigger's cry, +and he slipped through the _banskians_ like a shadow, his ears +flattened, his tail trailing, his hindquarters betraying that curious +slinking quality of the wolf and dog stealing away from danger. Then he +came out upon a plain, and the stillness, the billion stars in the clear +vault of the sky, and the keen air that carried with it a breath of the +Arctic barrens made him alert and questioning. He faced the direction of +the wind. Somewhere off there, far to the south and west, was Gray Wolf. +For the first time in many weeks he sat back on his haunches and gave +the deep and vibrant call that echoed weirdly for miles about him. Back +in the _banskians_ the big Dane heard it, and whined. From over the +still body of Sandy McTrigger the little professor looked up with a +white tense face, and listened for a second cry. But instinct told Kazan +that to that first call there would be no answer, and now he struck out +swiftly, galloping mile after mile, as a dog follows the trail of its +master home. He did not turn hack to the lake, nor was his direction +toward Red Gold City. As straight as he might have followed a road +blazed by the hand of man he cut across the forty miles of plain and +swamp and forest and rocky ridge that lay between him and the McFarlane. +All that night he did not call again for Gray Wolf. With him reasoning +was a process brought about by habit--by precedent--and as Gray Wolf had +waited for him many times before he knew that she would be waiting for +him now near the sand-bar. + +By dawn he had reached the river, within three miles of the sand-bar. +Scarcely was the sun up when he stood on the white strip of sand where +he and Gray Wolf had come down to drink. Expectantly and confidently he +looked about him for Gray Wolf, whining softly, and wagging his tail. He +began to search for her scent, but rains had washed even her footprints +from the clean sand. All that day he searched for her along the river +and out on the plain. He went to where they had killed their last +rabbit. He sniffed at the bushes where the poison baits had hung. Again +and again he sat back on his haunches and sent out his mating cry to +her. And slowly, as he did these things, nature was working in him that +miracle of the wild which the Crees have named the "spirit call." As it +had worked in Gray Wolf, so now it stirred the blood of Kazan. With the +going of the sun, and the sweeping about him of shadowy night, he turned +more and more to the south and east. His whole world was made up of the +trails over which he had hunted. Beyond those places he did not know +that there was such a thing as existence. And in that world, small in +his understanding of things, was Gray Wolf. He could not miss her. That +world, in his comprehension of it, ran from the McFarlane in a narrow +trail through the forests and over the plains to the little valley from +which the beavers had driven them. If Gray Wolf was not here--she was +there, and tirelessly he resumed his quest of her. + +Not until the stars were fading out of the sky again, and gray day was +giving place to night, did exhaustion and hunger stop him. He killed a +rabbit, and for hours after he had feasted he lay close to his kill, and +slept. Then he went on. + +The fourth night he came to the little valley between the two ridges, +and under the stars, more brilliant now in the chill clearness of the +early autumn nights, he followed the creek down into their old swamp +home. It was broad day when he reached the edge of the great beaver pond +that now completely surrounded the windfall under which Gray-Wolf's +second-born had come into the world. Broken Tooth and the other beavers +had wrought a big change in what had once been his home and Gray Wolf's, +and for many minutes Kazan stood silent and motionless at the edge of +the pond, sniffing the air heavy with the unpleasant odor of the +usurpers. Until now his spirit had remained unbroken. Footsore, with +thinned sides and gaunt head, he circled slowly through the swamp. All +that day he searched. And his crest lay flat now, and there was a hunted +look in the droop of his shoulders and in the shifting look of his +eyes. Gray Wolf was gone. + +Slowly nature was impinging that fact upon him. She had passed out of +his world and out of his life, and he was filled with a loneliness and a +grief so great that the forest seemed strange, and the stillness of the +wild a thing that now oppressed and frightened him. Once more the dog in +him was mastering the wolf. With Gray Wolf he had possessed the world of +freedom. Without her, that world was so big and strange and empty that +it appalled him. Late in the afternoon he came upon a little pile of +crushed clamshells on the shore of the stream. He sniffed at +them--turned away--went back, and sniffed again. It was where Gray Wolf +had made a last feast in the swamp before continuing south. But the +scent she had left behind was not strong enough to tell Kazan, and for a +second time he turned away. That night he slunk under a log, and cried +himself to sleep. Deep in the night he grieved in his uneasy slumber, +like a child. And day after day, and night after night, Kazan remained a +slinking creature of the big swamp, mourning for the one creature that +had brought him out of chaos into light, who had filled his world for +him, and who, in going from him, had taken from this world even the +things that Gray Wolf had lost in her blindness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + +In the golden glow of the autumn sun there came up the stream overlooked +by the Sun Rock one day a man, a woman and a child in a canoe. +Civilization had done for lovely Joan what it had done for many another +wild flower transplanted from the depths of the wilderness. Her cheeks +were thin. Her blue eyes had lost their luster. She coughed, and when +she coughed the man looked at her with love and fear in his eyes. But +now, slowly, the man had begun to see the transformation, and on the day +their canoe pointed up the stream and into the wonderful valley that had +been their home before the call of the distant city came to them, he +noted the flush gathering once more in her cheeks, the fuller redness of +her lips, and the gathering glow of happiness and content in her eyes. +He laughed softly as he saw these things, and he blessed the forests. In +the canoe she had leaned back, with her head almost against his +shoulder, and he stopped paddling to draw her to him, and run his +fingers through the soft golden masses of her hair. + +"You are happy again, Joan," he laughed joyously. "The doctors were +right. You are a part of the forests." + +"Yes, I am happy," she whispered, and suddenly there came a little +thrill into her voice, and she pointed to a white finger of sand running +out into the stream. "Do you remember--years and years ago, it +seems--that Kazan left us here? _She_ was on the sand over there, +calling to him. Do you remember?" There was a little tremble about her +mouth, and she added, "I wonder--where they--have gone." + +The cabin was as they had left it. Only the crimson _bakneesh_ had grown +up about it, and shrubs and tall grass had sprung up near its walls. +Once more it took on life, and day by day the color came deeper into +Joan's cheeks, and her voice was filled with its old wild sweetness of +song. Joan's husband cleared the trails over his old trap-lines, and +Joan and the little Joan, who romped and talked now, transformed the +cabin into _home_. One night the man returned to the cabin late, and +when he came in there was a glow of excitement in Joan's blue eyes, and +a tremble in her voice when she greeted him. + +"Did you hear it?" she asked. "Did you hear--_the call_?" + +He nodded, stroking her soft hair. + +"I was a mile back in the creek swamp," he said. "I heard it!" + +Joan's hands clutched his arms. + +"It wasn't Kazan," she said. "I would recognize _his_ voice. But it +seemed to me it was like the other--the call that came that morning from +the sand-bar, his _mate_?" + +The man was thinking. Joan's fingers tightened. She was breathing a +little quickly. + +"Will you promise me this?" she asked, "Will you promise me that you +will never hunt or trap for wolves?" + +"I had thought of that," he replied. "I thought of it--after I heard the +call. Yes, I will promise." + +Joan's arms stole up about his neck. + +"We loved Kazan," she whispered. "And you might kill him--or _her_" + +Suddenly she stopped. Both listened. The door was a little ajar, and to +them there came again the wailing mate-call of the wolf. Joan ran to the +door. Her husband followed. Together they stood silent, and with tense +breath Joan pointed over the starlit plain. + +"Listen! Listen!" she commanded. "It's her cry, _and it came from the +Sun Rock_!" + +She ran out into the night, forgetting that the man was close behind her +now, forgetting that little Joan was alone in her bed. And to them, from +miles and miles across the plain, there came a wailing cry in answer--a +cry that seemed a part of the wind, and that thrilled Joan until her +breath broke in a strange sob. + +Farther out on the plain she went and then stopped, with the golden glow +of the autumn moon and the stars shimmering in her hair and eyes. It was +many minutes before the cry came again, and then it was so near that +Joan put her hands to her mouth, and her cry rang out over the plain as +in the days of old. + +"_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +At the top of the Sun Rock, Gray Wolf--gaunt and thinned by +starvation--heard the woman's cry, and the call that was in her throat +died away in a whine. And to the north a swiftly moving shadow stopped +for a moment, and stood like a thing of rock under the starlight. It was +Kazan. A strange fire leaped through his body. Every fiber of his brute +understanding was afire with the knowledge that here was _home_. It was +here, long ago, that he had lived, and loved, and fought--and all at +once the dreams that had grown faded and indistinct in his memory came +back to him as real living things. For, coming to him faintly over the +plain, _he heard Joan's voice!_ + +In the starlight Joan stood, tense and white, when from out of the pale +mists of the moon-glow he came to her, cringing on his belly, panting +and wind-run, and with a strange whining note in his throat. And as Joan +went to him, her arms reaching out, her lips sobbing his name over and +over again, the man stood and looked down upon them with the wonder of a +new and greater understanding in his face. He had no fear of the +wolf-dog now. And as Joan's arms hugged Kazan's great shaggy head up to +her he heard the whining gasping joy of the beast and the sobbing +whispering voice of the girl, and with tensely gripped hands he faced +the Sun Rock. + +"My Gawd," he breathed. "I believe--it's so--" + +As if in response to the thought in his mind, there came once more +across the plain Gray Wolf's mate-seeking cry of grief and of +loneliness. Swiftly as though struck by a lash Kazan was on his +feet--oblivious of Joan's touch, of her voice, of the presence of the +man. In another instant he was gone, and Joan flung herself against her +husband's breast, and almost fiercely took his face between her two +hands. + +"_Now_ do you believe?" she cried pantingly. "_Now_ do you believe in +the God of my world--the God I have lived with, the God that gives souls +to the wild things, the God that--that has brought--us, +all--together--once more--_home_!" + +His arms closed gently about her. + +"I believe, my Joan," he whispered. + +"And you understand--now--what it means, 'Thou shalt not kill'?" + +"Except that it brings us life--yes, I understand," he replied. + +Her warm soft hands stroked his face. Her blue eyes, filled with the +glory of the stars, looked up into his. + +"Kazan and _she_--you and I--and the baby! Are you sorry--that we came +back?" she asked. + +So close he drew her against his breast that she did not hear the words +he whispered in the soft warmth of her hair. And after that, for many +hours, they sat in the starlight in front of the cabin door. But they +did not hear again that lonely cry from the Sun Rock. Joan and her +husband understood. + +"He'll visit us again to-morrow," the man said at last. "Come, Joan, let +us go to bed." + +Together they entered the cabin. + +And that night, side by side, Kazan and Gray Wolf hunted again in the +moonlit plain. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10084 *** diff --git a/10084-8.txt b/10084-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b62d074 --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6819 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Kazan + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: November 14, 2003 [EBook #10084] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + + + + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: He heard Joan's voice] + +KAZAN + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +Author of +The Danger Trail, Etc. + +Illustrated by +Gayle Hoskins and Frank Hoffman + + +1914 + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE MIRACLE + + II. INTO THE NORTH + + III. McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + IV. FREE FROM BONDS + + V. THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + VI. JOAN + + VII. OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + VIII. THE GREAT CHANGE + + IX. THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + X. THE DAYS OF FIRE + + XI. ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + XII. THE RED DEATH + + XIII. THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + XIV. THE RIGHT OF FANG + + XV. A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + XVI. THE CALL + + XVII. HIS SON + +XVIII. THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + XIX. THE USURPERS + + XX. A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + XXI. A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + XXII. SANDY'S METHOD + +XXIII. PROFESSOR McGILL + + XXIV. ALONE IN DARKNESS + + XXV. THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + XXVI. AN EMPTY WORLD + +XXVII. THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MIRACLE + + +Kazan lay mute and motionless, his gray nose between his forepaws, his +eyes half closed. A rock could have appeared scarcely less lifeless than +he; not a muscle twitched; not a hair moved; not an eyelid quivered. Yet +every drop of the wild blood in his splendid body was racing in a +ferment of excitement that Kazan had never before experienced; every +nerve and fiber of his wonderful muscles was tense as steel wire. +Quarter-strain wolf, three-quarters "husky," he had lived the four years +of his life in the wilderness. He had felt the pangs of starvation. He +knew what it meant to freeze. He had listened to the wailing winds of +the long Arctic night over the barrens. He had heard the thunder of the +torrent and the cataract, and had cowered under the mighty crash of the +storm. His throat and sides were scarred by battle, and his eyes were +red with the blister of the snows. He was called Kazan, the Wild Dog, +because he was a giant among his kind and as fearless, even, as the men +who drove him through the perils of a frozen world. + +He had never known fear--until now. He had never felt in him before the +desire to _run_--not even on that terrible day in the forest when he had +fought and killed the big gray lynx. He did not know what it was that +frightened him, but he knew that he was in another world, and that many +things in it startled and alarmed him. It was his first glimpse of +civilization. He wished that his master would come back into the strange +room where he had left him. It was a room filled with hideous things. +There were great human faces on the wall, but they did not move or +speak, but stared at him in a way he had never seen people look before. +He remembered having looked on a master who lay very quiet and very cold +in the snow, and he had sat back on his haunches and wailed forth the +death song; but these people on the walls looked alive, and yet seemed +dead. + +Suddenly Kazan lifted his ears a little. He heard steps, then low +voices. One of them was his master's voice. But the other--it sent a +little tremor through him! Once, so long ago that it must have been in +his puppyhood days, he seemed to have had a dream of a laugh that was +like the girl's laugh--a laugh that was all at once filled with a +wonderful happiness, the thrill of a wonderful love, and a sweetness +that made Kazan lift his head as they came in. He looked straight at +them, his red eyes gleaming. At once he knew that she must be dear to +his master, for his master's arm was about her. In the glow of the light +he saw that her hair was very bright, and that there was the color of +the crimson _bakneesh_ vine in her face and the blue of the _bakneesh_ +flower in her shining eyes. Suddenly she saw him, and with a little cry +darted toward him. + +"Stop!" shouted the man. "He's dangerous! Kazan--" + +She was on her knees beside him, all fluffy and sweet and beautiful, her +eyes shining wonderfully, her hands about to touch him. Should he cringe +back? Should he snap? Was she one of the things on the wall, and his +enemy? Should he leap at her white throat? He saw the man running +forward, pale as death. Then her hand fell upon his head and the touch +sent a thrill through him that quivered in every nerve of his body. With +both hands she turned up his head. Her face was very close, and he heard +her say, almost sobbingly: + +"And you are Kazan--dear old Kazan, my Kazan, my hero dog--who brought +him home to me when all the others had died! My Kazan--my hero!" + +And then, miracle of miracles, her face was crushed down against him, +and he felt her sweet warm touch. + +In those moments Kazan did not move. He scarcely breathed. It seemed a +long time before the girl lifted her face from him. And when she did, +there were tears in her blue eyes, and the man was standing above them, +his hands gripped tight, his jaws set. + +"I never knew him to let any one touch him--with their naked hand," he +said in a tense wondering voice. "Move back quietly, Isobel. Good +heaven--look at that!" + +Kazan whined softly, his bloodshot eyes on the girl's face. He wanted to +feel her hand again; he wanted to touch her face. Would they beat him +with a club, he wondered, if he _dared_! He meant no harm now. He would +kill for her. He cringed toward her, inch by inch, his eyes never +faltering. He heard what the man said--"Good heaven! Look at that!"--and +he shuddered. But no blow fell to drive him back. His cold muzzle +touched her filmy dress, and she looked at him, without moving, her wet +eyes blazing like stars. + +"See!" she whispered. "See!" + +Half an inch more--an inch, two inches, and he gave his big gray body a +hunch toward her. Now his muzzle traveled slowly upward--over her foot, +to her lap, and at last touched the warm little hand that lay there. His +eyes were still on her face: he saw a queer throbbing in her bare white +throat, and then a trembling of her lips as she looked up at the man +with a wonderful look. He, too, knelt down beside them, and put his arm +about the girl again, and patted the dog on his head. Kazan did not like +the man's touch. He mistrusted it, as nature had taught him to mistrust +the touch of all men's hands, but he permitted it because he saw that it +in some way pleased the girl. + +"Kazan, old boy, you wouldn't hurt her, would you?" said his master +softly. "We both love her, don't we, boy? Can't help it, can we? And +she's ours, Kazan, all _ours_! She belongs to you and to me, and we're +going to take care of her all our lives, and if we ever have to we'll +fight for her like hell--won't we? Eh, Kazan, old boy?" + +For a long time after they left him where he was lying on the rug, +Kazan's eyes did not leave the girl. He watched and listened--and all +the time there grew more and more in him the craving to creep up to them +and touch the girl's hand, or her dress, or her foot. After a time his +master said something, and with a little laugh the girl jumped up and +ran to a big, square, shining thing that stood crosswise in a corner, +and which had a row of white teeth longer than his own body. He had +wondered what those teeth were for. The girl's fingers touched them now, +and all the whispering of winds that he had ever heard, all the music of +the waterfalls and the rapids and the trilling of birds in spring-time, +could not equal the sounds they made. It was his first music. For a +moment it startled and frightened him, and then he felt the fright pass +away and a strange tingling in his body. He wanted to sit back on his +haunches and howl, as he had howled at the billion stars in the skies on +cold winter nights. But something kept him from doing that. It was the +girl. Slowly he began slinking toward her. He felt the eyes of the man +upon him, and stopped. Then a little more--inches at a time, with his +throat and jaw straight out along the floor! He was half-way to +her--half-way across the room--when the wonderful sounds grew very soft +and very low. + +"Go on!" he heard the man urge in a low quick voice. "Go on! Don't +stop!" + +The girl turned her head, saw Kazan cringing there on the floor, and +continued to play. The man was still looking, but his eyes could not +keep Kazan back now. He went nearer, still nearer, until at last his +outreaching muzzle touched her dress where it lay piled on the floor. +And then--he lay trembling, for she had begun to sing. He had heard a +Cree woman crooning in front of her tepee; he had heard the wild chant +of the caribou song--but he had never heard anything like this +wonderful sweetness that fell from the lips of the girl. He forgot his +master's presence now. Quietly, cringingly, so that she would not know, +he lifted his head. He saw her looking at him; there was something in +her wonderful eyes that gave him confidence, and he laid his head in her +lap. For the second time he felt the touch of a woman's hand, and he +closed his eyes with a long sighing breath. The music stopped. There +came a little fluttering sound above him, like a laugh and a sob in one. +He heard his master cough. + +"I've always loved the old rascal--but I never thought he'd do that," he +said; and his voice sounded queer to Kazan. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +INTO THE NORTH + + +Wonderful days followed for Kazan. He missed the forests and deep snows. +He missed the daily strife of keeping his team-mates in trace, the +yapping at his heels, the straight long pull over the open spaces and +the barrens. He missed the "Koosh--koosh--Hoo-yah!" of the driver, the +spiteful snap of his twenty-foot caribou-gut whip, and that yelping and +straining behind him that told him he had his followers in line. But +something had come to take the place of that which he missed. It was in +the room, in the air all about him, even when the girl or his master was +not near. Wherever she had been, he found the presence of that strange +thing that took away his loneliness. It was the woman scent, and +sometimes it made him whine softly when the girl herself was actually +with him. He was not lonely, nights, when he should have been out +howling at the stars. He was not lonely, because one night he prowled +about until he found a certain door, and when the girl opened that door +in the morning she found him curled up tight against it. She had reached +down and hugged him, the thick smother of her long hair falling all over +him in a delightful perfume; thereafter she placed a rug before the door +for him to sleep on. All through the long nights he knew that she was +just beyond the door, and he was content. Each day he thought less and +less of the wild places, and more of her. + +Then there came the beginning of the change. There was a strange hurry +and excitement around him, and the girl paid less attention to him. He +grew uneasy. He sniffed the change in the air, and he began to study his +master's face. Then there came the morning, very early, when the babiche +collar and the iron chain were fastened to him again. Not until he had +followed his master out through the door and into the street did he +begin to understand. They were sending him away! He sat suddenly back on +his haunches and refused to budge. + +"Come, Kazan," coaxed the man. "Come on, boy." + +He hung back and showed his white fangs. He expected the lash of a whip +or the blow of a club, but neither came. His master laughed and took him +back to the house. When they left it again, the girl was with them and +walked with her hand touching his head. It was she who persuaded him to +leap up through a big dark hole into the still darker interior of a car, +and it was she who lured him to the darkest corner of all, where his +master fastened his chain. Then they went out, laughing like two +children. For hours after that, Kazan lay still and tense, listening to +the queer rumble of wheels under him. Several times those wheels +stopped, and he heard voices outside. At last he was sure that he heard +a familiar voice, and he strained at his chain and whined. The closed +door slid back. A man with a lantern climbed in, followed by his master. +He paid no attention to them, but glared out through the opening into +the gloom of night. He almost broke loose when he leaped down upon the +white snow, but when he saw no one there, he stood rigid, sniffing the +air. Over him were the stars he had howled at all his life, and about +him were the forests, black and silent, shutting them in like a wall. +Vainly he sought for that one scent that was missing, and Thorpe heard +the low note of grief in his shaggy throat. He took the lantern and held +it above his head, at the same time loosening his hold on the leash. At +that signal there came a voice from out of the night. It came from +behind them, and Kazan whirled so suddenly that the loosely held chain +slipped from the man's hand. He saw the glow of other lanterns. And +then, once more, the voice-- + +"Kaa-aa-zan!" + +He was off like a bolt. Thorpe laughed to himself as he followed. + +"The old pirate!" he chuckled. + +When he came to the lantern-lighted space back of the caboose, Thorpe +found Kazan crouching down at a woman's feet. It was Thorpe's wife. She +smiled triumphantly at him as he came up out of the gloom. + +"You've won!" he laughed, not unhappily. "I'd have wagered my last +dollar he wouldn't do that for any voice on earth. You've won! Kazan, +you brute, I've lost you!" + +His face suddenly sobered as Isobel stooped to pick up the end of the +chain. + +"He's yours, Issy," he added quickly, "but you must let me care for him +until--we _know_. Give me the chain. I won't trust him even now. He's a +wolf. I've seen him take an Indian's hand off at a single snap. I've +seen him tear out another dog's jugular in one leap. He's an outlaw--a +bad dog--in spite of the fact that he hung to me like a hero and brought +me out alive. I can't trust him. Give me the chain--" + +He did not finish. With the snarl of a wild beast Kazan had leaped to +his feet. His lips drew up and bared his long fangs. His spine +stiffened, and with a sudden cry of warning, Thorpe dropped a hand to +the revolver at his belt. + +Kazan paid no attention to him. Another form had approached out of the +night, and stood now in the circle of illumination made by the lanterns. +It was McCready, who was to accompany Thorpe and his young wife back to +the Red River camp, where Thorpe was in charge of the building of the +new Trans-continental. The man was straight, powerfully built and clean +shaven. His jaw was so square that it was brutal, and there was a glow +in his eyes that was almost like the passion in Kazan's as he looked at +Isobel. + +Her red and white stocking-cap had slipped free of her head and was +hanging over her shoulder. The dull blaze of the lanterns shone in the +warm glow of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, suddenly +turned to him, were as blue as the bluest _bakneesh_ flower and glowed +like diamonds. McCready shifted his gaze, and instantly her hand fell on +Kazan's head. For the first time the dog did not seem to feel her touch. +He still snarled at McCready, the rumbling menace in his throat growing +deeper. Thorpe's wife tugged at the chain. + +"Down, Kazan--down!" she commanded. + +At the sound of her voice he relaxed. + +"Down!" she repeated, and her free hand fell on his head again. He slunk +to her feet. But his lips were still drawn back. Thorpe was watching +him. He wondered at the deadly venom that shot from the wolfish eyes, +and looked at McCready. The big guide had uncoiled his long dog-whip. A +strange look had come into his face. He was staring hard at Kazan. +Suddenly he leaned forward, with both hands on his knees, and for a +tense moment or two he seemed to forget that Isobel Thorpe's wonderful +blue eyes were looking at him. + +"Hoo-koosh, Pedro--_charge_!" + +That one word--_charge_--was taught only to the dogs in the service of +the Northwest Mounted Police. Kazan did not move. McCready straightened, +and quick as a shot sent the long lash of his whip curling out into the +night with a crack like a pistol report. + +"Charge, Pedro--_charge_!" + +The rumble in Kazan's throat deepened to a snarling growl, but not a +muscle of his body moved. McCready turned to Thorpe. + +"I could have sworn that I knew that dog," he said. "If it's Pedro, he's +_bad_!" + +Thorpe was taking the chain. Only the girl saw the look that came for an +instant into McCready's face. It made her shiver. A few minutes before, +when the train had first stopped at Les Pas, she had offered her hand +to this man and she had seen the same thing then. But even as she +shuddered she recalled the many things her husband had told her of the +forest people. She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough +manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and +suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of +fear and dislike. + +"He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make +friends with him?" + +She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain. +McCready came to her side as she bent over the dog. His back was to +Thorpe as he hunched down. Isobel's bowed head was within a foot of his +face. He could see the glow in her cheek and the pouting curve of her +mouth as she quieted the low rumbling in Kazan's throat. Thorpe stood +ready to pull back on the chain, but for a moment McCready was between +him and his wife, and he could not see McCready's face. The man's eyes +were not on Kazan. He was staring at the girl. + +"You're brave," he said. "I don't dare do that. He would take off my +hand!" + +He took the lantern from Thorpe and led the way to a narrow snow-path +branching off, from the track. Hidden back in the thick spruce was the +camp that Thorpe had left a fortnight before. There were two tents there +now in place of the one that he and his guide had used. A big fire was +burning in front of them. Close to the fire was a long sledge, and +fastened to trees just within the outer circle of firelight Kazan saw +the shadowy forms and gleaming eyes of his team-mates. He stood stiff +and motionless while Thorpe fastened him to a sledge. Once more he was +back in his forests--and in command. His mistress was laughing and +clapping her hands delightedly in the excitement of the strange and +wonderful life of which she had now become a part. Thorpe had thrown +back the flap of their tent, and she was entering ahead of him. She did +not look back. She spoke no word to him. He whined, and turned his red +eyes on McCready. + +In the tent Thorpe was saying: + +"I'm sorry old Jackpine wouldn't go back with us, Issy. He drove me +down, but for love or money I couldn't get him to return. He's a Mission +Indian, and I'd give a month's salary to have you see him handle the +dogs. I'm not sure about this man McCready. He's a queer chap, the +Company's agent here tells me, and knows the woods like a book. But dogs +don't like a stranger. Kazan isn't going to take to him worth a cent!" + +Kazan heard the girl's voice, and stood rigid and motionless listening +to it. He did not hear or see McCready when he came up stealthily behind +him. The man's voice came as suddenly as a shot at his heels. + +"_Pedro_!" + +In an instant Kazan cringed as if touched by a lash. + +"Got you that time--didn't I, you old devil!" whispered McCready, his +face strangely pale in the firelight. "Changed your name, eh? But I +_got_ you--didn't I?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + +For a long time after he had uttered those words McCready sat in silence +beside the fire. Only for a moment or two at a time did his eyes leave +Kazan. After a little, when he was sure that Thorpe and Isobel had +retired for the night, he went into his own tent and returned with a +flask of whisky. During the next half-hour he drank frequently. Then he +went over and sat on the end of the sledge, just beyond the reach of +Kazan's chain. + +"Got you, didn't I?" he repeated, the effect of the liquor beginning to +show in the glitter of his eyes. "Wonder who changed your name, Pedro. +And how the devil did _he_ come by you? Ho, ho, if you could only +talk--" + +They heard Thorpe's voice inside the tent. It was followed by a low +girlish peal of laughter, and McCready jerked himself erect. His face +blazed suddenly red, and he rose to his feet, dropping the flask in his +coat pocket. Walking around the fire, he tiptoed cautiously to the +shadow of a tree close to the tent and stood there for many minutes +listening. His eyes burned with a fiery madness when he returned to the +sledge and Kazan. It was midnight before he went into his own tent. + +In the warmth of the fire, Kazan's eyes slowly closed. He slumbered +uneasily, and his brain was filled with troubled pictures. At times he +was fighting, and his jaws snapped. At others he was straining at the +end of his chain, with McCready or his mistress just out of reach. He +felt the gentle touch of the girl's hand again and heard the wonderful +sweetness of her voice as she sang to him and his master, and his body +trembled and twitched with the thrills that had filled him that night. +And then the picture changed. He was running at the head of a splendid +team--six dogs of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police--and his master was +calling him Pedro! The scene shifted. They were in camp. His master was +young and smooth-faced and he helped from the sledge another man whose +hands were fastened in front of him by curious black rings. Again it was +later--and he was lying before a great fire. His master was sitting +opposite him, with his back to a tent, and as he looked, there came out +of the tent the man with the black rings--only now the rings were gone +and his hands were free, and in one of them he carried a heavy club. He +heard the terrible blow of the club as it fell on his master's head--and +the sound of it aroused him from his restless sleep. + +He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. +The fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that +precedes dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready. Again he was +standing close to the tent of his mistress, and he knew now that this +was the man who had worn the black iron rings, and that it was he who +had beaten him with whip and club for many long days after he had killed +his master. McCready heard the menace in his throat and came back +quickly to the fire. He began to whistle and draw the half-burned logs +together, and as the fire blazed up afresh he shouted to awaken Thorp +and Isobel. In a few minutes Thorpe appeared at the tent-flap and his +wife followed him out. Her loose hair rippled in billows of gold about +her shoulders and she sat down on the sledge, close to Kazan, and began +brushing it. McCready came up behind her and fumbled among the packages +on the sledge. As if by accident one of his hands buried itself for an +instant in the rich tresses that flowed down her back. She did not at +first feel the caressing touch of his fingers, and Thorpe's back was +toward them. + +Only Kazan saw the stealthy movement of the hand, the fondling clutch of +the fingers in her hair, and the mad passion burning in the eyes of the +man. Quicker than a lynx, the dog had leaped the length of his chain +across the sledge. McCready sprang back just in time, and as Kazan +reached the end of his chain he was jerked back so that his body struck +sidewise against the girl. Thorpe had turned in time to see the end of +the leap. He believed that Kazan had sprung at Isobel, and in his horror +no word or cry escaped his lips as he dragged her from where she had +half fallen over the sledge. He saw that she was not hurt, and he +reached for his revolver. It was in his holster in the tent. At his feet +was McCready's whip, and in the passion of the moment he seized it and +sprang upon Kazan. The dog crouched in the snow. He made no move to +escape or to attack. Only once in his life could he remember having +received a beating like that which Thorpe inflicted upon him now. But +not a whimper or a growl escaped him. + +[Illustration: "Not another blow!"] + +And then, suddenly, his mistress ran forward and caught the whip poised +above Thorpe's head. + +"Not another blow!" she cried, and something in her voice held him from +striking. McCready did not hear what she said then, but a strange look +came into Thorpe's eyes, and without a word he followed his wife into +their tent. + +"Kazan did not leap at me," she whispered, and she was trembling with a +sudden excitement. Her face was deathly white. "That man was behind me," +she went on, clutching her husband by the arm. "I felt him touch me--and +then Kazan sprang. He wouldn't bite _me_. It's the _man_! There's +something--wrong--" + +She was almost sobbing, and Thorpe drew her close in his arms. + +"I hadn't thought before--but it's strange," he said. "Didn't McCready +say something about knowing the dog? It's possible. Perhaps he's had +Kazan before and abused him in a way that the dog has not forgotten. +To-morrow I'll find out. But until I know--will you promise to keep away +from Kazan?" + +Isobel gave the promise. When they came out from the tent Kazan lifted +his great head. The stinging lash had closed one of his eyes and his +mouth was dripping blood. Isobel gave a low sob, but did not go near +him. Half blinded, he knew that his mistress had stopped his punishment, +and he whined softly, and wagged his thick tail in the snow. + +Never had he felt so miserable as through the long hard hours of the day +that followed, when he broke the trail for his team-mates into the +North. One of his eyes was closed and filled with stinging fire, and his +body was sore from the blows of the caribou lash. But it was not +physical pain that gave the sullen droop to his head and robbed his body +of that keen quick alertness of the lead-dog--the commander of his +mates. It was his spirit. For the first time in his life, it was broken. +McCready had beaten him--long ago; his master had beaten him; and +during all this day their voices were fierce and vengeful in his ears. +But it was his mistress who hurt him most. She held aloof from him, +always beyond they reach of his leash; and when they stopped to rest, +and again in camp, she looked at him with strange and wondering eyes, +and did not speak. She, too, was ready to beat him. He believed that, +and so slunk away from her and crouched on his belly in the snow. With +him, a broken spirit meant a broken heart, and that night he lurked in +one of the deepest shadows about the camp-fire and grieved alone. None +knew that it was grief--unless it was the girl. She did not move toward +him. She did not speak to him. But she watched him closely--and studied +him hardest when he was looking at McCready. + +Later, after Thorpe and his wife had gone into their tent, it began to +snow, and the effect of the snow upon McCready puzzled Kazan. The man +was restless, and he drank frequently from the flask that he had used +the night before. In the firelight his face grew redder and redder, and +Kazan could see the strange gleam of his teeth as he gazed at the tent +in which his mistress was sleeping. Again and again he went close to +that tent, and listened. Twice he heard movement. The last time, it was +the sound of Thorpe's deep breathing. McCready hurried back to the fire +and turned his face straight up to the sky. The snow was falling so +thickly that when he lowered his face he blinked and wiped his eyes. +Then he went out into the gloom and bent low over the trail they had +made a few hours before. It was almost obliterated by the falling snow. +Another hour and there would be no trail--nothing the next day to tell +whoever might pass that they had come this way. By morning it would +cover everything, even the fire, if he allowed it to die down. McCready +drank again, out in the darkness. Low words of an insane joy burst from +his lips. His head was hot with a drunken fire. His heart beat madly, +but scarcely more furiously than did Kazan's when the dog saw that +McCready was returning _with a club_! The club he placed on end against +a tree. Then he took a lantern from the sledge and lighted it. He +approached Thorpe's tent-flap, the lantern in his hand. + +"Ho, Thorpe--Thorpe!" he called. + +There was no answer. He could hear Thorpe breathing. He drew the flap +aside a little, and raised his voice. + +"Thorpe!" + +Still there was no movement inside, and he untied the flap strings and +thrust in his lantern. The light flashed on Isobel's golden head, and +McCready stared at it, his eyes burning like red coals, until he saw +that Thorpe was awakening. Quickly he dropped the flap and rustled it +from the outside. + +"Ho, Thorpe!--Thorpe!" he called again. + +This time Thorpe replied. + +"Hello, McCready--is that you?" + +McCready drew the flap back a little, and spoke in a low voice. + +"Yes. Can you come out a minute? Something's happening out in the woods. +Don't wake up your wife!" + +He drew back and waited. A minute later Thorpe came quietly out of the +tent. McCready pointed into the thick spruce. + +"I'll swear there's some one nosing around the camp," he said. "I'm +certain that I saw a man out there a few minutes ago, when I went for a +log. It's a good night for stealing dogs. Here--you take the lantern! If +I wasn't clean fooled, we'll find a trail in the snow." + +He gave Thorpe the lantern and picked up the heavy club. A growl rose in +Kazan's throat, but he choked it back. He wanted to snarl forth his +warning, to leap at the end of his leash, but he knew that if he did +that, they would return and beat him. So he lay still, trembling and +shivering, and whining softly. He watched them until they +disappeared--and then waited--listened. At last he heard the crunch of +snow. He was not surprised to see McCready come back alone. He had +expected him to return alone. For he knew what a club meant! + +McCready's face was terrible now. It was like a beast's. He was hatless. +Kazan slunk deeper in his shadow at the low horrible laugh that fell +from his lips--for the man still held the club. In a moment he dropped +that, and approached the tent. He drew back the flap and peered in. +Thorpe's wife was sleeping, and as quietly as a cat he entered and hung +the lantern on a nail in the tent-pole. His movement did not awaken her, +and for a few moments he stood there, staring--staring. + +Outside, crouching in the deep shadow, Kazan tried to fathom the meaning +of these strange things that were happening. Why had his master and +McCready gone out into the forest? Why had not his master returned? It +was his master, and not McCready, who belonged in that tent. Then why +was McCready there? He watched McCready as he entered, and suddenly the +dog was on his feet, his back tense and bristling, his limbs rigid. He +saw McCready's huge shadow on the canvas, and a moment later there came +a strange piercing cry. In the wild terror of that cry he recognized +_her_ voice--and he leaped toward the tent. The leash stopped him, +choking the snarl in his throat. He saw the shadows struggling now, and +there came cry after cry. She was calling to his master, and with his +master's name she was calling _him_! + +"_Kazan_--_Kazan_--" + +He leaped again, and was thrown upon his back. A second and a third +time he sprang the length of the leash into the night, and the babiche +cord about his neck cut into his flesh like a knife. He stopped for an +instant, gasping for breath. The shadows were still fighting. Now they +were upright! Now they were crumpling down! With a fierce snarl he flung +his whole weight once more at the end of the chain. There was a snap, as +the thong about his neck gave way. + +In half a dozen bounds Kazan made the tent and rushed under the flap. +With a snarl he was at McCready's throat. The first snap of his powerful +jaws was death, but he did not know that. He knew only that his mistress +was there, and that he was fighting for her. There came one choking +gasping cry that ended with a terrible sob; it was McCready. The man +sank from his knees upon his back, and Kazan thrust his fangs deeper +into his enemy's throat; he felt the warm blood. + +The dog's mistress was calling to him now. She was pulling at his shaggy +neck. But he would not loose his hold--not for a long time. When he did, +his mistress looked down once upon the man and covered her face with +her hands. Then she sank down upon the blankets. She was very still. Her +face and hands were cold, and Kazan muzzled them tenderly. Her eyes were +closed. He snuggled up close against her, with his ready jaws turned +toward the dead man. Why was she so still, he wondered? + +A long time passed, and then she moved. Her eyes opened. Her hand +touched him. + +Then he heard a step outside. + +It was his master, and with that old thrill of fear--fear of the +club--he went swiftly to the door. Yes, there was his master in the +firelight--and in his hand he held the club. He was coming slowly, +almost falling at each step, and his face was red with blood. But he had +_the club_! He would beat him again--beat him terribly for hurting +McCready; so Kazan slipped quietly under the tent-flap and stole off +into the shadows. From out the gloom of the thick spruce he looked back, +and a low whine of love and grief rose and died softly in his throat. +They would beat him always now--after _that_. Even _she_ would beat him. +They would hunt him down, and beat him when they found him. + +From out of the glow of the fire he turned his wolfish head to the +depths of the forest. There were no clubs or stinging lashes out in that +gloom. They would never find him there. + +For another moment he wavered. And then, as silently as one of the wild +creatures whose blood was partly his, he stole away into the blackness +of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FREE FROM BONDS + + +There was a low moaning of the wind in the spruce-tops as Kazan slunk +off into the blackness and mystery of the forest. For hours he lay near +the camp, his red and blistered eyes gazing steadily at the tent wherein +the terrible thing had happened a little while before. + +He knew now what death was. He could tell it farther than man. He could +smell it in the air. And he knew that there was death all about him, and +that he was the cause of it. He lay on his belly in the deep snow and +shivered, and the three-quarters of him that was dog whined in a +grief-stricken way, while the quarter that was wolf still revealed +itself menacingly in his fangs, and in the vengeful glare of his eyes. + +Three times the man--his master--came out of the tent, and shouted +loudly, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" + +Three times the woman came with him. In the firelight Kazan could see +her shining hair streaming about her, as he had seen it in the tent, +when he had leaped up and killed the other man. In her blue eyes there +was the same wild terror, and her face was white as the snow. And the +second and third time, she too called, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!"--and all +that part of him that was dog, and not wolf, trembled joyously at the +sound of her voice, and he almost crept in to take his beating. But fear +of the club was the greater, and he held back, hour after hour, until +now it was silent again in the tent, and he could no longer see their +shadows, and the fire was dying down. + +Cautiously he crept out from the thick gloom, working his way on his +belly toward the packed sledge, and what remained of the burned logs. +Beyond that sledge, hidden in the darkness of the trees, was the body of +the man he had killed, covered with a blanket. Thorpe, his master, had +dragged it there. + +He lay down, with his nose to the warm coals and his eyes leveled +between his forepaws, straight at the closed tent-flap. He meant to +keep awake, to watch, to be ready to slink off into the forest at the +first movement there. But a warmth was rising from out of the gray ash +of the fire-bed, and his eyes closed. Twice--three times--he fought +himself back into watchfulness; but the last time his eyes came only +half open, and closed heavily again. + +And now, in his sleep, he whined softly, and the splendid muscles of his +legs and shoulders twitched, and sudden shuddering ripples ran along his +tawny spine. Thorpe, who was in the tent, if he had seen him, would have +known that he was dreaming. And Thorpe's wife, whose golden head lay +close against his breast, and who shuddered and trembled now and then +even as Kazan was doing, would have known what he was dreaming about. + +In his sleep he was leaping again at the end of his chain. His jaws +snapped like castanets of steel,--and the sound awakened him, and he +sprang to his feet, his spine as stiff as a brush, and his snarling +fangs bared like ivory knives. He had awakened just in time. There was +movement in the tent. His master was awake, and if he did not escape-- + +He sped swiftly into the thick spruce, and paused, flat and hidden, with +only his head showing from behind a tree. He knew that his master would +not spare him. Three times Thorpe had beaten him for snapping at +McCready. The last time he would have shot him if the girl had not saved +him. And now he had torn McCready's throat. He had taken the life from +him, and his master would not spare him. Even the woman could not save +him. + +Kazan was sorry that his master had returned, dazed and bleeding, after +he had torn McCready's jugular. Then he would have had her always. She +would have loved him. She did love him. And he would have followed her, +and fought for her always, and died for her when the time came. But +Thorpe had come in from the forest again, and Kazan had slunk away +quickly--for Thorpe meant to him what all men meant to him now: the +club, the whip and the strange things that spat fire and death. And +now-- + +Thorpe had come out from the tent. It was approaching dawn, and in his +hand he held a rifle. A moment later the girl came out, and her hand +caught the man's arm. They looked toward the thing covered by the +blanket. Then she spoke to Thorpe and he suddenly straightened and +threw back his head. + +"H-o-o-o-o--Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" he called. + +A shiver ran through Kazan. The man was trying to inveigle him back. He +had in his hand the thing that killed. + +"Kazan--Kazan--Ka-a-a-a-zan!" he shouted again. + +Kazan sneaked cautiously back from the tree. He knew that distance meant +nothing to the cold thing of death that Thorpe held in his hand. He +turned his head once, and whined softly, and for an instant a great +longing filled his reddened eyes as he saw the last of the girl. + +He knew, now, that he was leaving her forever, and there was an ache in +his heart that had never been there before, a pain that was not of the +club or whip, of cold or hunger, but which was greater than them all, +and which filled him with a desire to throw back his head and cry out +his loneliness to the gray emptiness of the sky. + +Back in the camp the girl's voice quivered. + +"He is gone." + +The man's strong voice choked a little. + +"Yes, he is gone. _He knew_--and I didn't. I'd give--a year of my +life--if I hadn't whipped him yesterday and last night. He won't come +back." + +Isobel Thorpe's hand tightened on his arm. + +"He will!" she cried. "He won't leave me. He loved me, if he was savage +and terrible. And he knows that I love him. He'll come back--" + +"Listen!" + +From deep in the forest there came a long wailing howl, filled with a +plaintive sadness. It was Kazan's farewell to the woman. + +After that cry Kazan sat for a long time on his haunches, sniffing the +new freedom of the air, and watching the deep black pits in the forest +about him, as they faded away before dawn. 'Now and then, since the day +the traders had first bought him and put him into sledge-traces away +over on the Mackenzie, he had often thought of this freedom longingly, +the wolf blood in him urging him to take it. But he had never quite +dared. It thrilled him now. There were no clubs here, no whips, none of +the man-beasts whom he had first learned to distrust, and then to hate. +It was his misfortune--that quarter-strain of wolf; and the clubs, +instead of subduing him, had added to the savagery that was born in him. +Men had been his worst enemies. They had beaten him time and again until +he was almost dead. They called him "bad," and stepped wide of him, and +never missed the chance to snap a whip over his back. His body was +covered with scars they had given him. + +He had never felt kindness, or love, until the first night the woman had +put her warm little hand on his head, and had snuggled her face close +down to his, while Thorpe--her husband--had cried out in horror. He had +almost buried his fangs in her white flesh, but in an instant her gentle +touch, and her sweet voice, had sent through him that wonderful thrill +that was his first knowledge of love. And now it was a man who was +driving him from her, away from the hand that had never held a club or a +whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper into the forest. + +He came to the edge of a swamp as day broke. For a time he had been +filled with a strange uneasiness, and light did not quite dispel it. At +last he was free of men. He could detect nothing that reminded him of +their hated presence in the air. But neither could he smell the presence +of other dogs, of the sledge, the fire, of companionship and food, and +so far back as he could remember they had always been a part of his +life. + +Here it was very quiet. The swamp lay in a hollow between two +ridge-mountains, and the spruce and cedar grew low and thick--so thick +that there was almost no snow under them, and day was like twilight. Two +things he began to miss more than all others--food and company. Both the +wolf and the dog that was in him demanded the first, and that part of +him that was dog longed for the latter. To both desires the wolf blood +that was strong in him rose responsively. It told him that somewhere in +this silent world between the two ridges there was companionship, and +that all he had to do to find it was to sit back on his haunches, and +cry out his loneliness. More than once something trembled in his deep +chest, rose in his throat, and ended there in a whine. It was the wolf +howl, not yet quite born. + +Food came more easily than voice. Toward midday he cornered a big white +rabbit under a log, and killed it. The warm flesh and blood was better +than frozen fish, or tallow and bran, and the feast he had gave him +confidence. That afternoon he chased many rabbits, and killed two more. +Until now, he had never known the delight of pursuing and killing at +will, even though he did not eat all he killed. + +But there was no fight in the rabbits. They died too easily. They were +very sweet and tender to eat, when he was hungry, but the first thrill +of killing them passed away after a time. He wanted something bigger. He +no longer slunk along as if he were afraid, or as if he wanted to remain +hidden. He held his head up. His back bristled. His tail swung free and +bushy, like a wolf's. Every hair in his body quivered with the electric +energy of life and action. He traveled north and west. It was the call +of early days--the days away up on the Mackenzie. The Mackenzie was a +thousand miles away. + +He came upon many trails in the snow that day, and sniffed the scents +left by the hoofs of moose and caribou, and the fur-padded feet of a +lynx. He followed a fox, and the trail led him to a place shut in by +tall spruce, where the snow was beaten down and reddened with blood. +There was an owl's head, feathers, wings and entrails lying here, and he +knew that there were other hunters abroad besides himself. + +Toward evening he came upon tracks in the snow that were very much like +his own. They were quite fresh, and there was a warm scent about them +that made him whine, and filled him again with that desire to fall back +upon his haunches and send forth the wolf-cry. This desire grew stronger +in him as the shadows of night deepened in the forest. He had traveled +all day, but he was not tired. There was something about night, now that +there were no men near, that exhilarated him strangely. The wolf blood +in him ran swifter and swifter. To-night it was clear. The sky was +filled with stars. The moon rose. And at last he settled back in the +snow and turned his head straight up to the spruce-tops, and the wolf +came out of him in a long mournful cry which quivered through the still +night for miles. + +For a long time he sat and listened after that howl. He had found +voice--a voice with a strange new note in it, and it gave him still +greater confidence. He had expected an answer, but none came. He had +traveled in the face of the wind, and as he howled, a bull moose crashed +through the scrub timber ahead of him, his horns rattling against the +trees like the tattoo of a clear birch club as he put distance between +himself and that cry. + +Twice Kazan howled before he went on, and he found joy in the practise +of that new note. He came then to the foot of a rough ridge, and turned +up out of the swamp to the top of it. The stars and the moon were nearer +to him there, and on the other side of the ridge he looked down upon a +great sweeping plain, with a frozen lake glistening in the moonlight, +and a white river leading from it off into timber that was neither so +thick nor so black as that in the swamp. + +And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped. From +far off in the plain there came a cry. It was _his_ cry--the wolf-cry. +His jaws snapped. His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his +throat. He wanted to reply, but some strange instinct urged him not to. +That instinct of the wild was already becoming master of him. In the +air, in the whispering of the spruce-tops, in the moon and the stars +themselves, there breathed a spirit which told him that what he had +heard was the wolf-cry, but that it was not the wolf _call_. + +The other came an hour later, clear and distinct, that same wailing howl +at the beginning--but ending in a staccato of quick sharp yelps that +stirred his blood at once into a fiery excitement that it had never +known before. The same instinct told him that this was the call--the +hunt-cry. It urged him to come quickly. A few moments later it came +again, and this time there was a reply from close down along the foot of +the ridge, and another from so far away that Kazan could scarcely hear +it. The hunt-pack was gathering for the night chase; but Kazan sat quiet +and trembling. + +He was not afraid, but he was not ready to go. The ridge seemed to split +the world for him. Down there it was new, and strange, and without men. +From the other side something seemed pulling him back, and suddenly he +turned his head and gazed back through the moonlit space behind him, and +whined. It was the dog-whine now. The woman was back there. He could +hear her voice. He could feel the touch of her soft hand. He could see +the laughter in her face and eyes, the laughter that had made him warm +and happy. She was calling to him through the forests, and he was torn +between desire to answer that call, and desire to go down into the +plain. For he could also see many men waiting for him with clubs, and he +could hear the cracking of whips, and feel the sting of their lashes. + +For a long time he remained on the top of the ridge that divided his +world. And then, at last, he turned and went down into the plain. + +All that night he kept close to the hunt-pack, but never quite +approached it. This was fortunate for him. He still bore the scent of +traces, and of man. The pack would have torn him into pieces. The first +instinct of the wild is that of self-preservation. It may have been +this, a whisper back through the years of savage forebears, that made +Kazan roll in the snow now and then where the feet of the pack had trod +the thickest. + +That night the pack killed a caribou on the edge of the lake, and +feasted until nearly dawn. Kazan hung in the face of the wind. The smell +of blood and of warm flesh tickled his nostrils, and his sharp ears +could catch the cracking of bones. But the instinct was stronger than +the temptation. + +Not until broad day, when the pack had scattered far and wide over the +plain, did he go boldly to the scene of the kill. He found nothing but +an area of blood-reddened snow, covered with bones, entrails and torn +bits of tough hide. But it was enough, and he rolled in it, and buried +his nose in what was left, and remained all that day close to it, +saturating himself with the scent of it. + +That night, when the moon and the stars came out again, he sat back with +fear and hesitation no longer in him, and announced himself to his new +comrades of the great plain. + +The pack hunted again that night, or else it was a new pack that started +miles to the south, and came up with a doe caribou to the big frozen +lake. The night was almost as clear as day, and from the edge of the +forest Kazan first saw the caribou run out on the lake a third of a mile +away. The pack was about a dozen strong, and had already split into the +fatal horseshoe formation, the two leaders running almost abreast of the +kill, and slowly closing in. + +With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out into the moonlight. He was directly +in the path of the fleeing doe, and bore down upon her with lightning +speed. Two hundred yards away the doe saw him, and swerved to the right, +and the leader on that side met her with open jaws. Kazan was in with +the second leader, and leaped at the doe's soft throat. In a snarling +mass the pack closed in from behind, and the doe went down, with Kazan +half under her body, his fangs sunk deep in her jugular. She lay heavily +on him, but he did not lose his hold. It was his first big kill. His +blood ran like fire. He snarled between his clamped teeth. + +Not until the last quiver had left the body over him did he pull himself +out from under her chest and forelegs. He had killed a rabbit that day +and was not hungry. So he sat back in the snow and waited, while the +ravenous pack tore at the dead doe. After a little he came nearer, nosed +in between two of them, and was nipped for his intrusion. + +As Kazan drew back, still hesitating to mix with his wild brothers, a +big gray form leaped out of the pack and drove straight for his throat. +He had just time to throw his shoulder to the attack, and for a moment +the two rolled over and over in the snow. They were up before the +excitement of sudden battle had drawn the pack from the feast. Slowly +they circled about each other, their white fangs bare, their yellowish +backs bristling like brushes. The fatal ring of wolves drew about the +fighters. + +It was not new to Kazan. A dozen times he had sat in rings like this, +waiting for the final moment. More than once he had fought for his life +within the circle. It was the sledge-dog way of fighting. Unless man +interrupted with a club or a whip it always ended in death. Only one +fighter could come out alive. Sometimes both died. And there was no man +here--only that fatal cordon of waiting white-fanged demons, ready to +leap upon and tear to pieces the first of the fighters who was thrown +upon his side or back. Kazan was a stranger, but he did not fear those +that hemmed him in. The one great law of the pack would compel them to +be fair. + +He kept his eyes only on the big gray leader who had challenged him. +Shoulder to shoulder they continued to circle. Where a few moments +before there had been the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh +there was now silence. Soft-footed and soft-throated mongrel dogs from +the South would have snarled and growled, but Kazan and the wolf were +still, their ears laid forward instead of back, their tails free and +bushy. + +Suddenly the wolf struck in with the swiftness of lightning, and his +jaws came together with the sharpness of steel striking steel. They +missed by an inch. In that same instant Kazan darted in to the side, and +like knives his teeth gashed the wolf's flank. + +They circled again, their eyes growing redder, their lips drawn back +until they seemed to have disappeared. And then Kazan leaped for that +death-grip at the throat--and missed. It was only by an inch again, and +the wolf came back, as he had done, and laid open Kazan's flank so that +the blood ran down his leg and reddened the snow. The burn of that +flank-wound told Kazan that his enemy was old in the game of fighting. +He crouched low, his head straight out, and his throat close to the +snow. It was a trick Kazan had learned in puppyhood--to shield his +throat, and wait. + +Twice the wolf circled about him, and Kazan pivoted slowly, his eyes +half closed. A second time the wolf leaped, and Kazan threw up his +terrible jaws, sure of that fatal grip just in front of the forelegs. +His teeth snapped on empty air. With the nimbleness of a cat the wolf +had gone completely over his back. + +The trick had failed, and with a rumble of the dog-snarl in his throat, +Kazan reached the wolf in a single bound. They met breast to breast. +Their fangs clashed and with the whole weight of his body, Kazan flung +himself against the wolf's shoulders, cleared his jaws, and struck again +for the throat hold. It was another miss--by a hair's breadth--and +before he could recover, the wolf's teeth were buried in the back of +his neck. + +For the first time in his life Kazan felt the terror and the pain of the +death-grip, and with a mighty effort he flung his head a little forward +and snapped blindly. His powerful jaws closed on the wolf's foreleg, +close to the body. There was a cracking of bone and a crunching of +flesh, and the circle of waiting wolves grew tense and alert. One or the +other of the fighters was sure to go down before the holds were broken, +and they but awaited that fatal fall as a signal to leap in to the +death. + +Only the thickness of hair and hide on the back of Kazan's neck, and the +toughness of his muscles, saved him from that terrible fate of the +vanquished. The wolf's teeth sank deep, but not deep enough to reach the +vital spot, and suddenly Kazan put every ounce of strength in his limbs +to the effort, and flung himself up bodily from under his antagonist. +The grip on his neck relaxed, and with another rearing leap he tore +himself free. + +As swift as a whip-lash he whirled on the broken-legged leader of the +pack and with the full rush and weight of his shoulders struck him +fairly in the side. More deadly than the throat-grip had Kazan sometimes +found the lunge when delivered at the right moment. It was deadly now. +The big gray wolf lost his feet, rolled upon his back for an instant, +and the pack rushed in, eager to rend the last of life from the leader +whose power had ceased to exist. + +From out of that gray, snarling, bloody-lipped mass, Kazan drew back, +panting and bleeding. He was weak. There was a curious sickness in his +head. He wanted to lie down in the snow. But the old and infallible +instinct warned him not to betray that weakness. From out of the pack a +slim, lithe, gray she-wolf came up to him, and lay down in the snow +before him, and then rose swiftly and sniffed at his wounds. + +She was young and strong and beautiful, but Kazan did not look at her. +Where the fight had been he was looking, at what little remained of the +old leader. The pack had returned to the feast. He heard again the +cracking of bones and the rending of flesh, and something told him that +hereafter all the wilderness would hear and recognize his voice, and +that when he sat back on his haunches and called to the moon and the +stars, those swift-footed hunters of the big plain would respond to it. +He circled twice about the caribou and the pack, and then trotted off to +the edge of the black spruce forest. + +When he reached the shadows he looked back. Gray Wolf was following him. +She was only a few yards behind. And now she came up to him, a little +timidly, and she, too, looked back to the dark blotch of life out on the +lake. And as she stood there close beside him, Kazan sniffed at +something in the air that was not the scent of blood, nor the perfume of +the balsam and spruce. It was a thing that seemed to come to him from +the clear stars, the cloudless moon, the strange and beautiful quiet of +the night itself. And its presence seemed to be a part of Gray Wolf. + +He looked at her, and he found Gray Wolf's eyes alert and questioning. +She was young--so young that she seemed scarcely to have passed out of +puppyhood. Her body was strong and slim and beautifully shaped. In the +moonlight the hair under her throat and along her back shone sleek and +soft. She whined at the red staring light in Kazan's eyes, and it was +not a puppy's whimper. Kazan moved toward her, and stood with his head +over her back, facing the pack. He felt her trembling against his chest. +He looked at the moon and the stars again, the mystery of Gray Wolf and +of the night throbbing in his blood. + +Not much of his life had been spent at the posts. Most of it had been on +the trail--in the traces--and the spirit of the mating season had only +stirred him from afar. But it was very near now. Gray Wolf lifted her +head. Her soft muzzle touched the wound on his neck, and in the +gentleness of that touch, in the low sound in her throat, Kazan felt and +heard again that wonderful something that had come with the caress of +the woman's hand and the sound of her voice. + +He turned, whining, his back bristling, his head high and defiant of the +wilderness which he faced. Gray Wolf trotted close at his side as they +entered into the gloom of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + +They found shelter that night under thick balsam, and when they lay down +on the soft carpet of needles which the snow had not covered, Gray Wolf +snuggled her warm body close to Kazan and licked his wounds. The day +broke with a velvety fall of snow, so white and thick that they could +not see a dozen leaps ahead of them in the open. It was quite warm, and +so still that the whole world seemed filled with only the flutter and +whisper of the snowflakes. Through this day Kazan and Gray Wolf traveled +side by side. Time and again he turned his head back to the ridge over +which he had come, and Gray Wolf could not understand the strange note +that trembled in his throat. + +In the afternoon they returned to what was left of the caribou doe on +the lake. In the edge of the forest Gray Wolf hung back. She did not yet +know the meaning of poison-baits, deadfalls and traps, but the instinct +of numberless generations was in her veins, and it told her there was +danger in visiting a second time a thing that had grown cold in death. + +Kazan had seen masters work about carcasses that the wolves had left. He +had seen them conceal traps cleverly, and roll little capsules of +strychnine in the fat of the entrails, and once he had put a foreleg in +a trap, and had experienced its sting and pain and deadly grip. But he +did not have Gray Wolf's fear. He urged her to accompany him to the +white hummocks on the ice, and at last she went with him and sank back +restlessly on her haunches, while he dug out the bones and pieces of +flesh that the snow had kept from freezing. But she would not eat, and +at last Kazan went and sat on his haunches at her side, and with her +looked at what he had dug out from under the snow. He sniffed the air. +He could not smell danger, but Gray Wolf told him that it might be +there. + +She told him many other things in the days and nights that followed. The +third night Kazan himself gathered the hunt-pack and led in the chase. +Three times that month, before the moon left the skies, he led the +chase, and each time there was a kill. But as the snows began to grow +softer under his feet he found a greater and greater companionship in +Gray Wolf, and they hunted alone, living on the big white rabbits. In +all the world he had loved but two things, the girl with the shining +hair and the hands that had caressed him--and Gray Wolf. + +He did not leave the big plain, and often He took his mate to the top of +the ridge, and he would try to tell her what he had left back there. +With the dark nights the call of the woman became so strong upon him +that he was filled with a longing to go back, and take Gray Wolf with +him. + +Something happened very soon after that. They were crossing the open +plain one day when up on the face of the ridge Kazan saw something that +made his heart stand still. A man, with a dog-sledge and team, was +coming down into their world. The wind had not warned them, and suddenly +Kazan saw something glisten in the man's hands. He knew what it was. It +was the thing that spat fire and thunder, and killed. + +He gave his warning to Gray Wolf, and they were off like the wind, side +by side. And then came the _sound_--and Kazan's hatred of men burst +forth in a snarl as he leaped. There was a queer humming over their +heads. The sound from behind came again, and this time Gray Wolf gave a +yelp of pain, and rolled over and over in the snow. She was on her feet +again in an instant, and Kazan dropped behind her, and ran there until +they reached the shelter of the timber. Gray Wolf lay down, and began +licking the wound in her shoulder. Kazan faced the ridge. The man was +taking up their trail. He stopped where Gray Wolf had fallen, and +examined the snow. Then he came on. + +Kazan urged Gray Wolf to her feet, and they made for the thick swamp +close to the lake. All that day they kept in the face of the wind, and +when Gray Wolf lay down Kazan stole back over their trail, watching and +sniffing the air. + +For days after that Gray Wolf ran lame, and when once they came upon the +remains of an old camp, Kazan's teeth were bared in snarling hatred of +the man-scent that had been left behind. Growing in him there was a +desire for vengeance--vengeance for his own hurts, and for Gray Wolf's. +He tried to nose out the man-trail under the cover of fresh snow, and +Gray Wolf circled around him anxiously, and tried to lure him deeper +into the forest. At last he followed her sullenly. There was a savage +redness in his eyes. + +Three days later the new moon came. And on the fifth night Kazan struck +a trail. It was fresh--so fresh that he stopped as suddenly as though +struck by a bullet when he ran upon it, and stood with every muscle in +his body quivering, and his hair on end. It was a man-trail. There were +the marks of the sledge, the dogs' feet, and the snow-shoeprints of his +enemy. + +Then he threw up his head to the stars, and from his throat there rolled +out over the wide plains the hunt-cry--the wild and savage call for the +pack. Never had he put the savagery in it that was there to-night. Again +and again he sent forth that call, and then there came an answer and +another and still another, until Gray Wolf herself sat back on her +haunches and added her voice to Kazan's, and far out on the plain a +white and haggard-faced man halted his exhausted dogs to listen, while a +voice said faintly from the sledge: + +"The wolves, father. Are they coming--after us?" + +The man was silent. He was not young. The moon shone in his long white +beard, and added grotesquely to the height of his tall gaunt figure. A +girl had raised her head from a bearskin pillow on the sleigh. Her dark +eyes were filled beautifully with the starlight. She was pale. Her hair +fell in a thick shining braid over her shoulder, and she was hugging +something tightly to her breast. + +"They're on the trail of something--probably a deer," said the man, +looking at the breech of his rifle. "Don't worry, Jo. We'll stop at the +next bit of scrub and see if we can't find enough dry stuff for a +fire.--Wee-ah-h-h-h, boys! Koosh--koosh--" and he snapped his whip over +the backs of his team. + +From the bundle at the girl's breast there came a small wailing cry. And +far back in the plain there answered it the scattered voice of the pack. + +At last Kazan was on the trail of vengeance. He ran slowly at first, +with Gray Wolf close beside him, pausing every three or four hundred +yards to send forth the cry. A gray leaping form joined them from +behind. Another followed. Two came in from the side, and Kazan's +solitary howl gave place to the wild tongue of the pack. Numbers +grew, and with increasing number the pace became swifter. +Four--six--seven--ten--fourteen, by the time the more open and +wind-swept part of the plain was reached. + +It was a strong pack, filled with old and fearless hunters. Gray Wolf +was the youngest, and she kept close to Kazan's shoulders. She could see +nothing of his red-shot eyes and dripping jaws, and would not have +understood if she had seen. But she could _feel_ and she was thrilled by +the spirit of that strange and mysterious savagery that had made Kazan +forget all things but hurt and death. + +The pack made no sound. There was only the panting of breath and the +soft fall of many feet. They ran swiftly and close. And always Kazan was +a leap ahead, with Gray Wolf nosing his shoulder. + +Never had he wanted to kill as he felt the desire in him to kill now. +For the first time he had no fear of man, no fear of the club, of the +whip, or of the thing that blazed forth fire and death. He ran more +swiftly, in order to overtake them and give them battle sooner. All of +the pent-up madness of four years of slavery and abuse at the hands of +men broke loose in thin red streams of fire in his veins, and when at +last he saw a moving blotch far out on the plain ahead of him, the cry +that came out of his throat was one that Gray Wolf did not understand. + +Three hundred yards beyond that moving blotch was the thin line of +timber, and Kazan and his followers bore down swiftly. Half-way to the +timber they were almost upon it, and suddenly it stopped and became a +black and motionless shadow on the snow. From out of it there leaped +that lightning tongue of flame that Kazan had always dreaded, and he +heard the hissing song of the death-bee over his head. He did not mind +it now. He yelped sharply, and the wolves raced in until four of them +were neck-and-neck with him. + +A second flash--and the death-bee drove from breast to tail of a huge +gray fighter close to Gray Wolf. A third--a fourth--a fifth spurt of +that fire from the black shadow, and Kazan himself felt a sudden swift +passing of a red-hot thing along his shoulder, where the man's last +bullet shaved off the hair and stung his flesh. + +Three of the pack had gone down under the fire of the rifle, and half of +the others were swinging to the right and the left. But Kazan drove +straight ahead. Faithfully Gray Wolf followed him. + +The sledge-dogs had been freed from their traces, and before he could +reach the man, whom he saw with his rifle held like a club in his hands, +Kazan was met by the fighting mass of them. He fought like a fiend, and +there was the strength and the fierceness of two mates in the mad +gnashing of Gray Wolf's fangs. Two of the wolves rushed in, and Kazan +heard the terrific, back-breaking thud of the rifle. To him it was the +_club_. He wanted to reach it. He wanted to reach the man who held it, +and he freed himself from the fighting mass of the dogs and sprang to +the sledge. For the first time he saw that there was something human on +the sledge, and in an instant he was upon it. He buried his jaws deep. +They sank in something soft and hairy, and he opened them for another +lunge. And then he heard the voice! It was _her voice_! Every muscle in +his body stood still. He became suddenly like flesh turned to lifeless +stone. + +_Her voice_! The bear rug was thrown back and what had been hidden under +it he saw clearly now in the light of the moon and the stars. In him +instinct worked more swiftly than human brain could have given birth to +reason. It was not _she_. But the voice was the same, and the white +girlish face so close to his own blood-reddened eyes held in it that +same mystery that he had learned to love. And he saw now that which she +was clutching to her breast, and there came from it a strange thrilling +cry--and he knew that here on the sledge he had found not enmity and +death, but that from which he had been driven away in the other world +beyond the ridge. + +In a flash he turned. He snapped at Gray Wolf's flank, and she dropped +away with a startled yelp. It had all happened in a moment, but the man +was almost down. Kazan leaped under his clubbed rifle and drove into the +face of what was left of the pack. His fangs cut like knives. If he had +fought like a demon against the dogs, he fought like ten demons now, and +the man--bleeding and ready to fall--staggered back to the sledge, +marveling at what was happening. For in Gray Wolf there was now the +instinct of matehood, and seeing Kazan tearing and righting the pack she +joined him in the struggle which she could not understand. + +When it was over, Kazan and Gray Wolf were alone out on the plain. The +pack had slunk away into the night, and the same moon and stars that had +given to Kazan the first knowledge of his birthright told him now that +no longer would those wild brothers of the plains respond to his call +when he howled into the sky. + +He was hurt. And Gray Wolf was hurt, but not so badly as Kazan. He was +torn and bleeding. One of his legs was terribly bitten. After a time he +saw a fire in the edge of the forest. The old call was strong upon him. +He wanted to crawl in to it, and feel the girl's hand on his head, as +he had felt that other hand in the world beyond the ridge. He would have +gone--and would have urged Gray Wolf to go with him--but the man was +there. He whined, and Gray Wolf thrust her warm muzzle against his neck. +Something told them both that they were outcasts, that the plains, and +the moon, and the stars were against them now, and they slunk into the +shelter and the gloom of the forest. + +Kazan could not go far. He could still smell the camp when he lay down. +Gray Wolf snuggled close to him. Gently she soothed with her soft tongue +Kazan's bleeding wounds. And Kazan, lifting his head, whined softly to +the stars. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOAN + + +On the edge of the cedar and spruce forest old Pierre Radisson built the +fire. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds, where the fangs of the wolves +had reached to his flesh, and he felt in his breast that old and +terrible pain, of which no one knew the meaning but himself. He dragged +in log after log, piled them on the fire until the flames leaped tip to +the crisping needles of the limbs above, and heaped a supply close at +hand for use later in the night. + +From the sledge Joan watched him, still wild-eyed and fearful, still +trembling. She was holding her baby close to her breast. Her long heavy +hair smothered her shoulders and arms in a dark lustrous veil that +glistened and rippled in the firelight when she moved. Her young face +was scarcely a woman's to-night, though she was a mother. She looked +like a child. + +Old Pierre laughed as he threw down the last armful of fuel, and stood +breathing hard. + +"It was close, _ma cheri_" he panted through his white beard. "We were +nearer to death out there on the plain than we will ever be again, I +hope. But we are comfortable now, and warm. Eh? You are no longer +afraid?" + +He sat down beside his daughter, and gently pulled back the soft fur +that enveloped the bundle she held in her arms. He could see one pink +cheek of baby Joan. The eyes of Joan, the mother, were like stars. + +"It was the baby who saved us," she whispered. "The dogs were being torn +to pieces by the wolves, and I saw them leaping upon you, when one of +them sprang to the sledge. At first I thought it was one of the dogs. +But it was a wolf. He tore once at us, and the bearskin saved us. He was +almost at my throat when baby cried, and then he stood there, his red +eyes a foot from us, and I could have sworn again that he was a dog. In +an instant he turned, and was fighting the wolves. I saw him leap upon +one that was almost at your throat." + +"He _was_ a dog," said old Pierre, holding out his hands to the warmth. +"They often wander away from the posts, and join the wolves. I have had +dogs do that. _Ma cheri_, a dog is a dog all his life. Kicks, abuse, +even the wolves can not change him--for long. He was one of the pack. He +came with them--to kill. But when he found _us_--" + +"He fought for us," breathed the girl. She gave him the bundle, and +stood up, straight and tall and slim in the firelight. "He fought for +us--and he was terribly hurt," she said. "I saw him drag himself away. +Father, if he is out there--dying--" + +Pierre Radisson stood up. He coughed in a shuddering way, trying to +stifle the sound under his beard. The fleck of crimson that came to his +lips with the cough Joan did not see. She had seen nothing of it during +the six days they had been traveling up from the edge of civilization. +Because of that cough, and the stain that came with it, Pierre had made +more than ordinary haste. + +"I have been thinking of that," he said. "He was badly hurt, and I do +not think he went far. Here--take little Joan and sit close to the fire +until I come back." + +The moon and the stars were brilliant in the sky when he went out in the +plain. A short distance from the edge of the timber-line he stood for a +moment upon the spot where the wolves had overtaken them an hour before. +Not one of his four dogs had lived. The snow was red with their blood, +and their bodies lay stiff where they had fallen under the pack. Pierre +shuddered as he looked at them. If the wolves had not turned their first +mad attack upon the dogs, what would have become of himself, Joan and +the baby? He turned away, with another of those hollow coughs that +brought the blood to his lips. + +A few yards to one side he found in the snow the trail of the strange +dog that had come with the wolves, and had turned against them in that +moment when all seemed lost. It was not a clean running trail. It was +more of a furrow in the snow, and Pierre Radisson followed it, expecting +to find the dog dead at the end of it. + +In the sheltered spot to which he had dragged himself in the edge of the +forest Kazan lay for a long time after the fight, alert and watchful. +He felt no very great pain. But he had lost the power to stand upon his +legs. His flanks seemed paralyzed. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, +sniffing the air. They could smell the camp, and Kazan could detect the +two things that were there--_man_ and _woman_. He knew that the girl was +there, where he could see the glow of the firelight through the spruce +and the cedars. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to drag himself close +in to the fire, and take Gray Wolf with him, and listen to her voice, +and feel the touch of her hand. But the man was there, and to him man +had always meant the club, the whip, pain, death. + +Gray Wolf crouched close to his side, and whined softly as she urged +Kazan to flee deeper with her into the forest. At last she understood +that he could not move, and she ran nervously out into the plain, and +back again, until her footprints were thick in the trail she made. The +instincts of matehood were strong in her. It was she who first saw +Pierre Radisson coming over their trail, and she ran swiftly back to +Kazan and gave the warning. + +Then Kazan caught the scent, and he saw the shadowy figure coming +through the starlight. He tried to drag himself back, but he could move +only by inches. The man came rapidly nearer. Kazan caught the glisten of +the rifle in his hand. He heard his hollow cough, and the tread of his +feet in the snow. Gray Wolf crouched shoulder to shoulder with him, +trembling and showing her teeth. When Pierre had approached within fifty +feet of them she slunk back into the deeper shadows of the spruce. + +Kazan's fangs were bared menacingly when Pierre stopped and looked down +at him. With an effort he dragged himself to his feet, but fell back +into the snow again. The man leaned his rifle against a sapling and bent +over him fearlessly. With a fierce growl Kazan snapped at his extended +hands. To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club. He +held out his hand again--cautiously--and spoke in a voice new to Kazan. +The dog snapped again, and growled. + +The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened +hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it. +Again and again the man reached out his hand, and three times Kazan felt +the touch of it, and there was neither threat nor hurt in it. At last +Pierre turned away and went back over the trail. + +When he was out of sight and hearing, Kazan whined, and the crest along +his spine flattened. He looked wistfully toward the glow of the fire. +The man had not hurt him, and the three-quarters of him that was dog +wanted to follow. + +Gray Wolf came back, and stood with stiffly planted forefeet at his +side. She had never been this near to man before, except when the pack +had overtaken the sledge out on the plain. She could not understand. +Every instinct that was in her warned her that he was the most dangerous +of all things, more to be feared than the strongest beasts, the storms, +the floods, cold and starvation. And yet this man had not harmed her +mate. She sniffed at Kazan's back and head, where the mittened hand had +touched. Then she trotted back into the darkness again, for beyond the +edge of the forest she once more saw moving life. + +The man was returning, and with him was the girl. Her voice was soft +and sweet, and there was about her the breath and sweetness of woman. +The man stood prepared, but not threatening. + +"Be careful, Joan," he warned. + +She dropped on her knees in the snow, just out of reach. + +"Come, boy--come!" she said gently. She held out her hand. Kazan's +muscles twitched. He moved an inch--two inches toward her. There was the +old light in her eyes and face now, the love and gentleness he had known +once before, when another woman with shining hair and eyes had come into +his life. "Come!" she whispered as she saw him move, and she bent a +little, reached a little farther with her hand, and at last touched his +head. + +Pierre knelt beside her. He was proffering something, and Kazan smelled +meat. But it was the girl's hand that made him tremble and shiver, and +when she drew back, urging him to follow her, he dragged himself +painfully a foot or two through the snow. Not until then did the girl +see his mangled leg. In an instant she had forgotten all caution, and +was down close at his side. + +"He can't walk," she cried, a sudden tremble in her voice. "Look, _mon +père!_ Here is a terrible cut. We must carry him." + +"I guessed that much," replied Radisson. "For that reason I brought the +blanket. _Mon Dieu_, listen to that!" + +From the darkness of the forest there came a low wailing cry. + +Kazan lifted his head and a trembling whine answered in his throat. It +was Gray Wolf calling to him. + +It was a miracle that Pierre Radisson should put the blanket about +Kazan, and carry him in to the camp, without scratch or bite. It was +this miracle that he achieved, with Joan's arm resting on Kazan's shaggy +neck as she held one end of the blanket. They laid him down close to the +fire, and after a little it was the man again who brought warm water and +washed away the blood from the torn leg, and then put something on it +that was soft and warm and soothing, and finally bound a cloth about it. + +All this Was strange and new to Kazan. Pierre's hand, as well as the +girl's, stroked his head. It was the man who brought him a gruel of meal +and tallow, and urged him to eat, while Joan sat with her chin in her +two hands, looking at the dog, and talking to him. After this, when he +was quite comfortable, and no longer afraid, he heard a strange small +cry from the furry bundle on the sledge that brought his head up with a +jerk. + +Joan saw the movement, and heard the low answering whimper in his +throat. She turned quickly to the bundle, talking and cooing to it as +she took it in her arms, and then she pulled back the bearskin so that +Kazan could see. He had never seen a baby before, and Joan held it out +before him, so that he could look straight at it and see what a +wonderful creature it was. Its little pink face stared steadily at +Kazan. Its tiny fists reached out, and it made queer little sounds at +him, and then suddenly it kicked and screamed with delight and laughed. +At those sounds Kazan's whole body relaxed, and he dragged himself to +the girl's feet. + +"See, he likes the baby!" she cried. "_Mon père_, we must give him a +name. What shall it be?" + +"Wait till morning for that," replied the father. "It is late, Joan. Go +into the tent, and sleep. We have no dogs now, and will travel slowly. +So we must start early." + +With her hand on the tent-flap, Joan, turned. + +"He came with the wolves," she said. "Let us call him Wolf." With one +arm she was holding the little Joan. The other she stretched out to +Kazan. "Wolf! Wolf!" she called softly. + +Kazan's eyes were on her. He knew that she was speaking to him, and he +drew himself a foot toward her. + +"He knows it already!" she cried. "Good night, _mon père_." + +For a long time after she had gone into the tent, old Pierre Radisson +sat on the edge of the sledge, facing the fire, with Kazan at his feet. +Suddenly the silence was broken again by Gray Wolf's lonely howl deep in +the forest. Kazan lifted his head and whined. + +"She's calling for you, boy," said Pierre understandingly. + +He coughed, and clutched a hand to his breast, where the pain seemed +rending him. + +"Frost-bitten lung," he said, speaking straight at Kazan. "Got it early +in the winter, up at Fond du Lac. Hope we'll get home--in time--with the +kids." + +In the loneliness and emptiness of the big northern wilderness one falls +into the habit of talking to one's self. But Kazan's head was alert, and +his eyes watchful, so Pierre spoke to him. + +"We've got to get them home, and there's only you and me to do it," he +said, twisting his beard. Suddenly he clenched his fists. + +His hollow racking cough convulsed him again. + +"Home!" he panted, clutching his chest. "It's eighty miles straight +north--to the Churchill--and I pray to God we'll get there--with the +kids--before my lungs give out." + +He rose to his feet, and staggered a little as he walked. There was a +collar about Kazan's neck, and he chained him to the sledge. After that +he dragged three or four small logs upon the fire, and went quietly into +the tent where Joan and the baby were already asleep. Several times +that night Kazan heard the distant voice of Gray Wolf calling for him, +but something told him that he must not answer it now. Toward dawn Gray +Wolf came close in to the camp, and for the first time Kazan replied to +her. + +His howl awakened the man. He came out of the tent, peered for a few +moments up at the sky, built up the fire, and began to prepare +breakfast. He patted Kazan on the head, and gave him a chunk of meat. +Joan came out a few moments later, leaving the baby asleep in the tent. +She ran up and kissed Pierre, and then dropped down on her knees beside +Kazan, and talked to him almost as he had heard her talk to the baby. +When she jumped up to help her father, Kazan followed her, and when Joan +saw him standing firmly upon his legs she gave a cry of pleasure. + +It was a strange journey that began into the North that day. Pierre +Radisson emptied the sledge of everything but the tent, blankets, food +and the furry nest for baby Joan. Then he harnessed himself in the +traces and dragged the sledge over the snow. He coughed incessantly. + +"It's a cough I've had half the winter," lied Pierre, careful that Joan +saw no sign of blood on his lips or beard. "I'll keep in the cabin for a +week when we get home." + +Even Kazan, with that strange beast knowledge which man, unable to +explain, calls instinct, knew that what he said was not the truth. +Perhaps it was largely because he had heard other men cough like this, +and that for generations his sledge-dog ancestors had heard men cough as +Radisson coughed--and had learned what followed it. + +More than once he had scented death in tepees and cabins, which he had +not entered, and more than once he had sniffed at the mystery of death +that was not quite present, but near--just as he had caught at a +distance the subtle warning of storm and of fire. And that strange thing +seemed to be very near to him now, as he followed at the end of his +chain behind the sledge. It made him restless, and half a dozen times, +when the sledge stopped, he sniffed at the bit of humanity buried in the +bearskin. Each time that he did this Joan was quickly at his side, and +twice she patted his scarred and grizzled head until every drop of +blood in his body leaped riotously with a joy which his body did not +reveal. + +This day the chief thing that he came to understand was that the little +creature on the sledge was very precious to the girl who stroked his +head and talked to him, and that it was very helpless. He learned, too, +that Joan was most delighted, and that her voice was softer and thrilled +him more deeply, when he paid attention to that little, warm, living +thing in the bearskin. + +For a long time after they made camp Pierre Radisson sat beside the +fire. To-night he did not smoke. He stared straight into the flames. +When at last he rose to go into the tent with the girl and the baby, he +bent over Kazan and examined his hurt. + +"You've got to work in the traces to-morrow, boy," he said. "We must +make the river by to-morrow night. If we don't--" + +He did not finish. He was choking back one of those tearing coughs when +the tent-flap dropped behind him. Kazan lay stiff and alert, his eyes +filled with a strange anxiety. He did not like to see Radisson enter the +tent, for stronger than ever there hung that oppressive mystery in the +air about him, and it seemed to be a part of Pierre. + +Three times that night he heard faithful Gray Wolf calling for him deep +in the forest, and each time he answered her. Toward dawn she came in +close to camp. Once he caught the scent of her when she circled around +in the wind, and he tugged and whined at the end of his chain, hoping +that she would come in and lie down at his side. But no sooner had +Radisson moved in the tent than Gray Wolf was gone. The man's face was +thinner, and his eyes were redder this morning. His cough was not so +loud or so rending. It was like a wheeze, as if something had given way +inside, and before the girl came out he clutched his hands often at his +throat. Joan's face whitened when she saw him. Anxiety gave way to fear +in her eyes. Pierre Radisson laughed when she flung her arms about him, +and coughed to prove that what he said was true. + +"You see the cough is not so bad, my Joan," he said. "It is breaking up. +You can not have forgotten, _ma cheri_? It always leaves one red-eyed +and weak." + +It was a cold bleak dark day that followed, and through it Kazan and +the man tugged at the fore of the sledge, with Joan following in the +trail behind. Kazan's wound no longer hurt him. He pulled steadily with +all his splendid strength, and the man never lashed him once, but patted +him with his mittened hand on head and back. The day grew steadily +darker and in the tops of the trees there was the low moaning of a +storm. + +Darkness and the coming of the storm did not drive Pierre Radisson into +camp. "We must reach the river," he said to himself over and over again. +"We must reach the river--we must reach the river--" And he steadily +urged Kazan on to greater effort, while his own strength at the end of +the traces grew less. + +It had begun to storm when Pierre stopped to build a fire at noon. The +snow fell straight down in a white deluge so thick that it hid the tree +trunks fifty yards away. Pierre laughed when Joan shivered and snuggled +close up to him with the baby in her arms. He waited only an hour, and +then fastened Kazan in the traces again, and buckled the straps once +more about his own waist. In the silent gloom that was almost night +Pierre carried his compass in his hand, and at last, late in the +afternoon, they came to a break in the timber-line, and ahead of them +lay a plain, across which Radisson pointed an exultant hand. + +"There's the river, Joan," he said, his voice faint and husky. "We can +camp here now and wait for the storm to pass." + +Under a thick clump of spruce he put up the tent, and then began +gathering fire-wood. Joan helped him. As soon as they had boiled coffee +and eaten a supper of meat and toasted biscuits, Joan went into the tent +and dropped exhausted on her thick bed of balsam boughs, wrapping +herself and the baby up close in the skins and blankets. To-night she +had no word for Kazan. And Pierre was glad that she was too tired to sit +beside the fire and talk. And yet-- + +Kazan's alert eyes saw Pierre start suddenly. He rose from his seat on +the sledge and went to the tent. He drew back the flap and thrust in his +head and shoulders. + +"Asleep, Joan?" he asked. + +"Almost, father. Won't you please come--soon?" + +"After I smoke," he said. "Are you comfortable?" + +"Yes, I'm so tired--and--sleepy--" + +Pierre laughed softly. In the darkness he was gripping at his throat. + +"We're almost home, Joan. That is our river out there--the Little +Beaver. If I should run away and leave you to-night you could follow it +right to our cabin. It's only forty miles. Do you hear?" + +"Yes--I know--" + +"Forty miles--straight down the river. You couldn't lose yourself, Joan. +Only you'd have to be careful of air-holes in the ice." + +"Won't you come to bed, father? You're tired--and almost sick." + +"Yes--after I smoke," he repeated. "Joan, will you keep reminding me +to-morrow of the air-holes? I might forget. You can always tell them, +for the snow and the crust over them are whiter than that on the rest of +the ice, and like a sponge. Will you remember--the airholes--" + +"Yes-s-s-s--" + +Pierre dropped the tent-flap and returned to the fire. He staggered as +he walked. + +"Good night, boy," he said. "Guess I'd better go in with the kids. Two +days more--forty miles--two days--" + +Kazan watched him as he entered the tent. He laid his weight against the +end of his chain until the collar shut off his wind. His legs and back +twitched. In that tent where Radisson had gone were Joan and the baby. +He knew that Pierre would not hurt them, but he knew also that with +Pierre Radisson something terrible and impending was hovering very near +to them. He wanted the man outside--by the fire--where he could lie +still, and watch him. + +In the tent there was silence. Nearer to him than before came Gray +Wolf's cry. Each night she was calling earlier, and coming closer to the +camp. He wanted her very near to him to-night, but he did not even whine +in response. He dared not break that strange silence in the tent. He lay +still for a long time, tired and lame from the day's journey, but +sleepless. The fire burned lower; the wind in the tree-tops died away; +and the thick gray clouds rolled like a massive curtain from under the +skies. The stars began to glow white and metallic, and from far in the +North there came faintly a crisping moaning sound, like steel +sleigh-runners running over frosty snow--the mysterious monotone of the +Northern Lights. After that it grew steadily and swiftly colder. + +To-night Gray Wolf did not compass herself by the direction of the wind. +She followed like a sneaking shadow over the trail Pierre Radisson had +made, and when Kazan heard her again, long after midnight, he lay with, +his head erect, and his body rigid, save for a curious twitching of his +muscles. There was a new note in Gray Wolf's voice, a wailing note in +which there was more than the mate-call. It was The Message. And at the +sound of it Kazan rose from out of his silence and his fear, and with +his head turned straight up to the sky he howled as the wild dogs of the +North howl before the tepees of masters who are newly dead. + +Pierre Radisson was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + +It was dawn when the baby snuggled close to Joan's warm breast and +awakened her with its cry of hunger. She opened her eyes, brushed back +the thick hair from her face, and could see where the shadowy form of +her father was lying at the other side of the tent. He was very quiet, +and she was pleased that he was still sleeping. She knew that the day +before he had been very near to exhaustion, and so for half an hour +longer she lay quiet, cooing softly to the baby Joan. Then she arose +cautiously, tucked the baby in the warm blankets and furs, put on her +heavier garments, and went outside. + +By this time it was broad day, and she breathed a sigh of relief when +she saw that the storm had passed. It was bitterly cold. It seemed to +her that she had never known it to be so cold in all her life. The fire +was completely out. Kazan was huddled in a round ball, his nose tucked +under his body. He raised his head, shivering, as Joan came out. With +her heavily moccasined foot Joan scattered the ashes and charred sticks +where the fire had been. There was not a spark left. In returning to the +tent she stopped for a moment beside Kazan, and patted his shaggy head. + +"Poor Wolf!" she said. "I wish I had given you one of the bearskins!" + +She threw back the tent-flap and entered. For the first time she saw her +father's face in the light--and outside, Kazan heard the terrible +moaning cry that broke from her lips. No one could have looked at Pierre +Radisson's face once--and not have understood. + +After that one agonizing cry, Joan flung herself upon her father's +breast, sobbing so softly that even Kazan's sharp ears heard no sound. +She remained there in her grief until every vital energy of womanhood +and motherhood in her girlish body was roused to action by the wailing +cry of baby Joan. Then she sprang to her feet and ran out through the +tent opening. Kazan tugged at the end of his chain to meet her, but she +saw nothing of him now. The terror of the wilderness is greater than +that of death, and in an instant it had fallen upon Joan. It was not +because of fear for herself. It was the baby. The wailing cries from the +tent pierced her like knife-thrusts. + +And then, all at once, there came to her what old Pierre had said the +night before--his words about the river, the air-holes, the home forty +miles away. "_You couldn't lose yourself, Joan_" He had guessed what +might happen. + +She bundled the baby deep in the furs and returned to the fire-bed. Her +one thought now was that they must have fire. She made a little pile of +birch-bark, covered it with half-burned bits of wood, and went into the +tent for the matches. Pierre Radisson carried them in a water-proof box +in a pocket of his bearskin coat. She sobbed as she kneeled beside him +again, and obtained the box. As the fire flared up she added other bits +of wood, and then some of the larger pieces that Pierre had dragged into +camp. The fire gave her courage. Forty miles--and the river led to their +home! She must make that, with the baby and Wolf. For the first time +she turned to him, and spoke his name as she put her hand on his head. +After that she gave him a chunk of meat which she thawed out over the +fire, and melted the snow for tea. She was not hungry, but she recalled +how her father had made her eat four or five times a day, so she forced +herself to make a breakfast of a biscuit, a shred of meat and as much +hot tea as she could drink. + +The terrible hour she dreaded followed that. She wrapped blankets +closely about her father's body, and tied them with babiche cord. After +that she piled all the furs and blankets that remained on the sledge +close to the fire, and snuggled baby Joan deep down in them. Pulling +down the tent was a task. The ropes were stiff and frozen, and when she +had finished, one of her hands was bleeding. She piled the tent on the +sledge, and then, half, covering her face, turned and looked back. + +Pierre Radisson lay on his balsam bed, with nothing over him now but the +gray sky and the spruce-tops. Kazan stood stiff-legged and sniffed the +air. His spine bristled when Joan went back slowly and kneeled beside +the blanket-wrapped object. When she returned to him her face was white +and tense, and now there was a strange and terrible look in her eyes as +she stared out across the barren. She put him in the traces, and +fastened about her slender waist the strap that Pierre had used. Thus +they struck out for the river, floundering knee-deep in the freshly +fallen and drifted snow. Half-way Joan stumbled in a drift and fell, her +loose hair flying in a shimmering veil over the snow. With a mighty pull +Kazan was at her side, and his cold muzzle touched her face as she drew +herself to her feet. For a moment Joan took his shaggy head between her +two hands. + +"Wolf!" she moaned. "Oh, Wolf!" + +She went on, her breath coming pantingly now, even from her brief +exertion. The snow was not so deep on the ice of the river. But a wind +was rising. It came from the north and east, straight in her face, and +Joan bowed her head as she pulled with Kazan. Half a mile down the river +she stopped, and no longer could she repress the hopelessness that rose +to her lips in a sobbing choking cry. Forty miles! She clutched her +hands at her breast, and stood breathing like one who had been beaten, +her back to the wind. The baby was quiet. Joan went back and peered down +under the furs, and what she saw there spurred her on again almost +fiercely. Twice she stumbled to her knees in the drifts during the next +quarter of a mile. + +After that there was a stretch of wind-swept ice, and Kazan pulled the +sledge alone. Joan walked at his side. There was a pain in her chest. A +thousand needles seemed pricking her face, and suddenly she remembered +the thermometer. She exposed it for a time on the top of the tent. When +she looked at it a few minutes later it was thirty degrees below zero. +Forty miles! And her father had told her that she could make it--and +could not lose herself! But she did not know that even her father would +have been afraid to face the north that day, with the temperature at +thirty below, and a moaning wind bringing the first warning of a +blizzard. + +The timber was far behind her now. Ahead there was nothing but the +pitiless barren, and the timber beyond that was hidden by the gray gloom +of the day. If there had been trees, Joan's heart would not have choked +so with terror. But there was nothing--nothing but that gray ghostly +gloom, with the rim of the sky touching the earth a mile away. + +The snow grew heavy under her feet again. Always she was watching for +those treacherous, frost-coated traps in the ice her father had spoken +of. But she found now that all the ice and snow looked alike to her, and +that there was a growing pain back of her eyes. It was the intense cold. + +The river widened into a small lake, and here the wind struck her in the +face with such force that her weight was taken from the strap, and Kazan +dragged the sledge alone. A few inches of snow impeded her as much as a +foot had done before. Little by little she dropped back. Kazan forged to +her side, every ounce of his magnificent strength in the traces. By the +time they were on the river channel again, Joan was at the back of the +sledge, following in the trail made by Kazan. She was powerless to help +him. She felt more and more the leaden weight of her legs. There was but +one hope--and that was the forest. If they did not reach it soon, within +half an hour, she would be able to go no farther. Over and over again +she moaned a prayer for her baby as she struggled on. She fell in the +snow-drifts. Kazan and the sledge became only a dark blotch to her. And +then, all at once, she saw that they were leaving her. They were not +more than twenty feet ahead of her--but the blotch seemed to be a vast +distance away. Every bit of life and strength in her body was now bent +upon reaching the sledge--and baby Joan. + +It seemed an interminable time before she gained. With the sledge only +six feet ahead of her she struggled for what seemed to her to be an hour +before she could reach out and touch it. With a moan she flung herself +forward, and fell upon it. She no longer heard the wailing of the storm. +She no longer felt discomfort. With her face in the furs under which +baby Joan was buried, there came to her with swiftness and joy a vision +of warmth and home. And then the vision faded away, and was followed by +deep night. + +Kazan stopped in the trail. He came back then and sat down upon his +haunches beside her, waiting for her to move and speak. But she was +very still. He thrust his nose into her loose hair. A whine rose in his +throat, and suddenly he raised his head and sniffed in the face of the +wind. Something came to him with that wind. He muzzled Joan again, hut +she did not stir. Then he went forward, and stood in his traces, ready +for the pull, and looked hack at her. Still she did not move or speak, +and Kazan's whine gave place to a sharp excited bark. + +The strange thing in the wind came to him stronger for a moment. He +began to pull. The sledge-runners had frozen to the snow, and it took +every ounce of his strength to free them. Twice during the next five +minutes he stopped and sniffed the air. The third time that he halted, +in a drift of snow, he returned to Joan's side again, and whined to +awaken her. Then he tugged again at the end of his traces, and foot by +foot he dragged the sledge through the drift. Beyond the drift there was +a stretch of clear ice, and here Kazan rested. During a lull in the wind +the scent came to him stronger than before. + +At the end of the clear ice was a narrow break in the shore, where a +creek ran into the main stream. If Joan had been conscious she would +have urged him straight ahead. But Kazan turned into the break, and for +ten minutes he struggled through the snow without a rest, whining more +and more frequently, until at last the whine broke into a joyous bark. +Ahead of him, close to the creek, was a small cabin. Smoke was rising +out of the chimney. It was the scent of smoke that had come to him in +the wind. A hard level slope reached to the cabin door, and with the +last strength that was in him Kazan dragged his burden up that. Then he +settled himself back beside Joan, lifted his shaggy head to the dark sky +and howled. + +A moment later the door opened. A man came out. Kazan's reddened, +snow-shot eyes followed him watchfully as he ran to the sledge. He heard +his startled exclamation as he bent over Joan. In another lull of the +wind there came from out of the mass of furs on the sledge the wailing, +half-smothered voice of baby Joan. + +A deep sigh of relief heaved up from Kazan's chest. He was exhausted. +His strength was gone. His feet were torn and bleeding. But the voice +of baby Joan filled him with a strange happiness, and he lay down in his +traces, while the man carried Joan and the baby into the life and warmth +of the cabin. + +A few minutes later the man reappeared. He was not old, like Pierre +Radisson. He came close to Kazan, and looked down at him. + +"My God," he said. "And you did that--_alone!_" + +He bent down fearlessly, unfastened him from the traces, and led him +toward the cabin door. Kazan hesitated but once--almost on the +threshold. He turned his head, swift and alert. From out of the moaning +and wailing of the storm it seemed to him that for a moment he had heard +the voice of Gray Wolf. + +Then the cabin door closed behind him. + +Back in a shadowy corner of the cabin he lay, while the man prepared +something over a hot stove for Joan. It was a long time before Joan rose +from the cot on which the man had placed her. After that Kazan heard her +sobbing; and then the man made her eat, and for a time they talked. Then +the stranger hung up a big blanket in front of the bunk, and sat down +close to the stove. Quietly Kazan slipped along the wall, and crept +under the bunk. For a long time he could hear the sobbing breath of the +girl. Then all was still. + +The next morning he slipped out through the door when the man opened it, +and sped swiftly into the forest. Half a mile away he found the trail of +Gray Wolf, and called to her. From the frozen river came her reply, and +he went to her. + +Vainly Gray Wolf tried to lure him back into their old haunts--away from +the cabin and the scent of man. Late that morning the man harnessed his +dogs, and from the fringe of the forest Kazan saw him tuck Joan and the +baby among the furs on the sledge, as old Pierre had done. All that day +he followed in the trail of the team, with Gray Wolf slinking behind +him. They traveled until dark; and then, under the stars and the moon +that had followed the storm, the man still urged on his team. It was +deep in the night when they came to another cabin, and the man beat upon +the door. A light, the opening of the door, the joyous welcome of a +man's voice, Joan's sobbing cry--Kazan heard these from the shadows in +which he was hidden, and then slipped back to Gray Wolf. + +In the days and weeks that followed Joan's home-coming the lure of the +cabin and of the woman's hand held Kazan. As he had tolerated Pierre, so +now he tolerated the younger man who lived with Joan and the baby. He +knew that the man was very dear to Joan, and that the baby was very dear +to him, as it was to the girl. It was not until the third day that Joan +succeeded in coaxing him into the cabin--and that was the day on which +the man returned with the dead and frozen body of Pierre. It was Joan's +husband who first found the name on the collar he wore, and they began +calling him Kazan. + +Half a mile away, at the summit of a huge mass of rock which the Indians +called the Sun Rock, he and Gray Wolf had found a home; and from here +they went down to their hunts on the plain, and often the girl's voice +reached up to them, calling, "_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +Through all the long winter Kazan hovered thus between the lure of Joan +and the cabin--and Gray Wolf. + +Then came Spring--and the Great Change. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE GREAT CHANGE + + +The rocks, the ridges and the valleys were taking on a warmer glow. The +poplar buds were ready to burst. The scent of balsam and of spruce grew +heavier in the air each day, and all through the wilderness, in plain +and forest, there was the rippling murmur of the spring floods finding +their way to Hudson's Bay. In that great bay there was the rumble and +crash of the ice fields thundering down in the early break-up through +the Roes Welcome--the doorway to the Arctic, and for that reason there +still came with the April wind an occasional sharp breath of winter. + +Kazan had sheltered himself against that wind. Not a breath of air +stirred in the sunny spot the wolf-dog had chosen for himself. He was +more comfortable than he had been at any time during the six months of +terrible winter--and as he slept he dreamed. + +Gray Wolf, his wild mate, lay near him, flat on her belly, her forepaws +reaching out, her eyes and nostrils as keen and alert as the smell of +man could make them. For there was that smell of man, as well as of +balsam and spruce, in the warm spring air. She gazed anxiously and +sometimes steadily, at Kazan as he slept. Her own gray spine stiffened +when she saw the tawny hair along Kazan's back bristle at some dream +vision. She whined softly as his upper lip snarled back, showing his +long white fangs. But for the most part Kazan lay quiet, save for the +muscular twitchings of legs, shoulders and muzzle, which always tell +when a dog is dreaming; and as he dreamed there came to the door of the +cabin out on the plain a blue-eyed girl-woman, with a big brown braid +over her shoulder, who called through the cup of her hands, "Kazan, +Kazan, Kazan!" + +The voice reached faintly to the top of the Sun Rock, and Gray Wolf +flattened her ears. Kazan stirred, and in another instant he was awake +and on his feet. He leaped to an outcropping ledge, sniffing the air and +looking far out over the plain that lay below them. + +Over the plain the woman's voice came to them again, and Kazan ran to +the edge of the rock and whined. Gray Wolf stepped softly to his side +and laid her muzzle on his shoulder. She had grown to know what the +Voice meant. Day and night she feared it, more than she feared the scent +or sound of man. + +Since she had given up the pack and her old life for Kazan, the Voice +had become Gray Wolf's greatest enemy, and she hated it. It took Kazan +from her. And wherever it went, Kazan followed. + +Night after night it robbed her of her mate, and left her to wander +alone under the stars and the moon, keeping faithfully to her +loneliness, and never once responding with her own tongue to the +hunt-calls of her wild brothers and sisters in the forests and out on +the plains. Usually she would snarl at the Voice, and sometimes nip +Kazan lightly to show her displeasure. But to-day, as the Voice came a +third time, she slunk back into the darkness of a fissure between two +rocks, and Kazan saw only the fiery glow of her eyes. + +Kazan ran nervously to the trail their feet had worn up to the top of +the Sun Rock, and stood undecided. All day, and yesterday, he had been +uneasy and disturbed. Whatever it was that stirred him seemed to be in +the air, for he could not see it or hear it or scent it. But he could +_feel_ it. He went to the fissure and sniffed at Gray Wolf. Usually she +whined coaxingly. But her response to-day was to draw back her lips +until he could see her white fangs. + +A fourth tune the Voice came to them faintly, and she snapped fiercely +at some unseen thing in the darkness between the two rocks. Kazan went +again to the trail, still hesitating. Then he began to go down. It was a +narrow winding trail, worn only by the pads and claws of animals, for +the Sun Rock was a huge crag that rose almost sheer up for a hundred +feet above the tops of the spruce and balsam, its bald crest catching +the first gleams of the sun in the morning and the last glow of it in +the evening. Gray Wolf had first led Kazan to the security of the +retreat at the top of the rock. + +When he reached the bottom he no longer hesitated, but darted swiftly in +the direction of the cabin. Because of that instinct of the wild that +was still in him, he always approached the cabin with caution. He never +gave warning, and for a moment Joan was startled when she looked up from +her baby and saw Kazan's shaggy head and shoulders in the open door. The +baby struggled and kicked in her delight, and held out her two hands +with cooing cries to Kazan. Joan, too, held out a hand. + +"Kazan!" she cried softly. "Come in, Kazan!" + +Slowly the wild red light in Kazan's eyes softened. He put a forefoot on +the sill, and stood there, while the girl urged him again. Suddenly his +legs seemed to sink a little under him, his tail drooped and he slunk in +with that doggish air of having committed a crime. The creatures he +loved were in the cabin, but the cabin itself he hated. He hated all +cabins, for they all breathed of the club and the whip and bondage. Like +all sledge-dogs he preferred the open snow for a bed, and the +spruce-tops for shelter. + +Joan dropped her hand to his head, and at its touch there thrilled +through him that strange joy that was his reward for leaving Gray Wolf +and the wild. Slowly he raised his head until his black muzzle rested on +her lap, and he closed his eyes while that wonderful little creature +that mystified him so--the baby--prodded him with her tiny feet, and +pulled his tawny hair. He loved these baby-maulings even more than the +touch of Joan's hand. + +Motionless, sphinx-like, undemonstrative in every muscle of his body, +Kazan stood, scarcely breathing. More than once this lack of +demonstration had urged Joan's husband to warn her. But the wolf that +was in Kazan, his wild aloofness, even his mating with Gray Wolf had +made her love him more. She understood, and had faith in him. + +In the days of the last snow Kazan had proved himself. A neighboring +trapper had run over with his team, and the baby Joan had toddled up to +one of the big huskies. There was a fierce snap of jaws, a scream of +horror from Joan, a shout from the men as they leaped toward the pack. +But Kazan was ahead of them all. In a gray streak that traveled with the +speed of a bullet he was at the big husky's throat. When they pulled him +off, the husky was dead. Joan thought of that now, as the baby kicked +and tousled Kazan's head. + +"Good old Kazan," she cried softly, putting her face down close to him. +"We're glad you came, Kazan, for we're going to be alone to-night--baby +and I. Daddy's gone to the post, and you must care for us while he's +away." + +She tickled his nose with the end of her long shining braid. This always +delighted the baby, for in spite of his stoicism Kazan had to sniff and +sometimes to sneeze, and twig his ears. And it pleased him, too. He +loved the sweet scent of Joan's hair. + +"And you'd fight for us, if you had to, wouldn't you?" she went on. Then +she rose quietly. "I must close the door," she said. "I don't want you +to go away again to-day, Kazan. You must stay with us." + +Kazan went off to his corner, and lay down. Just as there had been some +strange thing at the top of the Sun Rock to disturb him that day, so now +there was a mystery that disturbed him in the cabin. He sniffed the air, +trying to fathom its secret. Whatever it was, it seemed to make his +mistress different, too. And she was digging out all sorts of odds and +ends of things about the cabin, and doing them up in packages. Late that +night, before she went to bed, Joan came and snuggled her hand close +down beside him for a few moments. + +"We're going away," she whispered, and there was a curious tremble that +was almost a sob in her voice. "We're going home, Kazan. We're going +away down where his people live--where they have churches, and cities, +and music, and all the beautiful things in the world. And we're going to +take _you_, Kazan!" + +Kazan didn't understand. But he was happy at having the woman so near to +him, and talking to him. At these times he forgot Gray Wolf. The dog +that was in him surged over his quarter-strain of wildness, and the +woman and the baby alone filled his world. But after Joan had gone to +her bed, and all was quiet in the cabin, his old uneasiness returned. He +rose to his feet and moved stealthily about the cabin, sniffing at the +walls, the door and the things his mistress had done into packages. A +low whine rose in his throat. Joan, half asleep, heard it, and murmured: +"Be quiet, Kazan. Go to sleep--go to sleep--" + +Long after that, Kazan stood rigid in the center of the room, listening, +trembling. And faintly he heard, far away, the wailing cry of, Gray +Wolf. But to-night it was not the cry of loneliness. It sent a thrill +through him. He ran to the door, and whined, but Joan was deep in +slumber and did not hear him. Once more he heard the cry, and only once. +Then the night grew still. He crouched down near the door. + +Joan found him there, still watchful, still listening, when she awoke in +the early morning. She came to open the door for him, and in a moment he +was gone. His feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth as he sped in the +direction of the Sun Rock. Across the plain he could see the cap of it +already painted with a golden glow. + +He came to the narrow winding trail, and wormed his way up it swiftly. + +Gray Wolf was not at the top to greet him. But he could smell her, and +the scent of that other thing was strong in the air. His muscles +tightened; his legs grew tense. Deep down in his chest there began the +low rumble of a growl. He knew now what that strange thing was that had +haunted him, and made him uneasy. It was _life_. Something that lived +and breathed had invaded the home which he and Gray Wolf had chosen. He +bared his long fangs, and a snarl of defiance drew back his lips. +Stiff-legged, prepared to spring, his neck and head reaching out, he +approached the two rocks between which Gray Wolf had crept the night +before. She was still there. And with her was _something else_. After a +moment the tenseness left Kazan's body. His bristling crest drooped +until it lay flat. His ears shot forward, and he put his head and +shoulders between the two rocks, and whined softly. And Gray Wolf +whined. Slowly Kazan backed out, and faced the rising sun. Then he lay +down, so that his body shielded I the entrance to the chamber between +the rocks. + +Gray Wolf was a mother. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + +All that day Kazan guarded the top of the Sun Rock. Fate, and the fear +and brutality of masters, had heretofore kept him from fatherhood, and +he was puzzled. Something told him now that he belonged to the Sun Rock, +and not to the cabin. The call that came to him from over the plain was +not so strong. At dusk Gray Wolf came out from her retreat, and slunk to +his side, whimpering, and nipped gently at his shaggy neck. It was the +old instinct of his fathers that made him respond by caressing Gray +Wolf's face with his tongue. Then Gray Wolf's jaws opened, and she +laughed in short panting breaths, as if she had been hard run. She was +happy, and as they heard a little snuffling sound from between the +rocks, Kazan wagged his tail, and Gray Wolf darted back to her young. + +The babyish cry and its effect upon Gray Wolf taught Kazan his first +lesson in fatherhood. Instinct again told him that Gray Wolf could not +go down to the hunt with him now--that she must stay at the top of the +Sun Rock. So when the moon rose he went down alone, and toward dawn +returned with a big white rabbit between his jaws. It was the wild in +him that made him do this, and Gray Wolf ate ravenously. Then he knew +that each night hereafter he must hunt for Gray Wolf--and the little +whimpering creatures hidden between the two rocks. + +The next day, and still the next, he did not go to the cabin, though he +heard the voices of both the man and the woman calling him. On the fifth +he went down, and Joan and the baby were so glad that the woman hugged +him, and the baby kicked and laughed and screamed at him, while the man +stood by cautiously, watching their demonstrations with a gleam of +disapprobation in his eyes. + +"I'm afraid of him," he told Joan for the hundredth time. "That's the +wolf-gleam in his eyes. He's of a treacherous breed. Sometimes I wish +we'd never brought him home." + +"If we hadn't--where would the baby--have gone?" Joan reminded him, a +little catch in her voice. + +"I had almost forgotten that," said her husband. "Kazan, you old devil, +I guess I love you, too." He laid his hand caressingly on Kazan's head. +"Wonder how he'll take to life down there?" he asked. "He has always +been used to the forests. It'll seem mighty strange." + +"And so--have I--always been used to the forests," whispered Joan. "I +guess that's why I love Kazan--next to you and the baby. Kazan--dear old +Kazan!" + +This time Kazan felt and scented more of that mysterious change in the +cabin. Joan and her husband talked incessantly of their plans when they +were together; and when the man was away Joan talked to the baby, and to +him. And each time that he came down to the cabin during the week that +followed, he grew more and more restless, until at last the man noticed +the change in him. + +"I believe he knows," he said to Joan one evening. "I believe he knows +we're preparing to leave." Then he added: "The river was rising again +to-day. It will be another week before we can start, perhaps longer." + +That same night the moon flooded the top of the Sun Rock with a golden +light, and out into the glow of it came Gray Wolf, with her three little +whelps toddling behind her. There was much about these soft little balls +that tumbled about him and snuggled in his tawny coat that reminded +Kazan of the baby. At times they made the same queer, soft little +sounds, and they staggered about on their four little legs just as +helplessly as baby Joan made her way about on two. He did not fondle +them, as Gray Wolf did, but the touch of them, and their babyish +whimperings, filled him with a kind of pleasure that he had never +experienced before. + +The moon was straight above them, and the night was almost as bright as +day, when he went down again to hunt for Gray Wolf. At the foot of the +rock a big white rabbit popped up ahead of him, and he gave chase. For +half a mile he pursued, until the wolf instinct in him rose over the +dog, and he gave up the futile race. A deer he might have overtaken, but +small game the wolf must hunt as the fox hunts it, and he began to slip +through the thickets slowly and as quietly as a shadow. He was a mile +from the Sun Rock when two quick leaps put Gray Wolf's supper between +his jaws. He trotted back slowly, dropping the big seven-pound snow-shoe +hare now and then to rest. + +When he came to the narrow trail that led to the top of the Sun Rock he +stopped. In that trail was the warm scent of strange feet. The rabbit +fell from his jaws. Every hair in his body was suddenly electrified into +life. What he scented was not the scent of a rabbit, a marten or a +porcupine. Fang and claw had climbed the path ahead of him. And then, +coming faintly to him from the top of the rock, he heard sounds which +sent him up with a terrible whining cry. When he reached the summit he +saw in the white moonlight a scene that stopped him for a single moment. +Close to the edge of the sheer fall to the rocks, fifty feet below, Gray +Wolf was engaged in a death-struggle with a huge gray lynx. She was +down--and under, and from her there came a sudden sharp terrible cry of +pain. + +Kazan flew across the rock. His attack was the swift silent assault of +the wolf, combined with the greater courage, the fury and the strategy +of the husky. Another husky would have died in that first attack. But +the lynx was not a dog or a wolf. It was "Mow-lee, the swift," as the +Sarcees had named it--the quickest creature in the wilderness. Kazan's +inch-long fangs should have sunk deep in its jugular. But in a +fractional part of a second the lynx had thrown itself back like a huge +soft ball, and Kazan's teeth buried themselves in the flesh of its neck +instead of the jugular. And Kazan was not now fighting the fangs of a +wolf in the pack, or of another husky. He was fighting claws--claws that +ripped like twenty razor-edged knives, and which even a jugular hold +could not stop. + +Once he had fought a lynx in a trap, and he had not forgotten the lesson +the battle had taught him. He fought to pull the lynx _down_, instead of +forcing it on its back, as he would have done with another dog or a +wolf. He knew that when on its back the fierce cat was most dangerous. +One rip of its powerful hindfeet could disembowel him. + +Behind him he heard Gray Wolf sobbing and crying, and he knew that she +was terribly hurt. He was filled with the rage and strength of two dogs, +and his teeth met through the flesh and hide of the cat's throat. But +the big lynx escaped death by half an inch. It would take a fresh grip +to reach the jugular, and suddenly Kazan made the deadly lunge. There +was an instant's freedom for the lynx, and in that moment it flung +itself back, and Kazan gripped at its throat--_on top_. + +The cat's claws ripped through his flesh, cutting open his side--a +little too high to kill. Another stroke and they would have cut to his +vitals. But they had struggled close to the edge of the rock wall, and +suddenly, without a snarl or a cry, they rolled over. It was fifty or +sixty feet to the rocks of the ledge below, and even as they pitched +over and over in the fall, Kazan's teeth sank deeper. They struck with +terrific force, Kazan uppermost. The shock sent him half a dozen feet +from his enemy. He was up like a flash, dizzy, snarling, on the +defensive. The lynx lay limp and motionless where it had fallen. Kazan +came nearer, still prepared, and sniffed cautiously. Something told him +that the fight was over. He turned and dragged himself slowly along the +ledge to the trail, and returned to Gray Wolf. + +Gray Wolf was no longer in the moonlight. Close to the two rocks lay the +limp and lifeless little bodies of the three pups. The lynx had torn +them to pieces. With a whine of grief Kazan approached the two boulders +and thrust his head between them. Gray Wolf was there, crying to herself +in that terrible sobbing way. He went in, and began to lick her bleeding +shoulders and head. All the rest of that night she whimpered with pain. +With dawn she dragged herself out to the lifeless little bodies on the +rock. + +And then Kazan saw the terrible work of the lynx. For Gray Wolf was +blind--not for a day or a night, but blind for all time. A gloom that no +sun could break had become her shroud. And perhaps again it was that +instinct of animal creation, which often is more wonderful than man's +reason, that told Kazan what had happened. For he knew now that she was +helpless--more helpless than the little creatures that had gamboled in +the moonlight a few hours before. He remained close beside her all +that day. + +[Illustration: Kazan gripped at its throat] + +Vainly that day did Joan call for Kazan. Her voice rose to the Sun Rock, +and Gray Wolf's head snuggled closer to Kazan, and Kazan's ears dropped +back, and he licked her wounds. Late in the afternoon Kazan left Gray +Wolf long enough to run to the bottom of the trail and bring up the +snow-shoe rabbit. Gray Wolf muzzled the fur and flesh, but would not +eat. Still a little later Kazan urged her to follow him to the trail. He +no longer wanted to stay at the top of the Sun Rock, and he no longer +wanted Gray Wolf to stay there. Step by step he drew her down the +winding path away from her dead puppies. She would move only when he was +very near her--so near that she could touch his scarred flank with her +nose. + +They came at last to the point in the trail where they had to leap down +a distance of three or four feet from the edge of a rock, and here Kazan +saw how utterly helpless Gray Wolf had become. She whined, and crouched +twenty times before she dared make the spring, and then she jumped +stiff-legged, and fell in a heap at Kazan's feet. After this Kazan did +not have to urge her so hard, for the fall impinged on her the fact that +she was safe only when her muzzle touched her mate's flank. She followed +him obediently when they reached the plain, trotting with her +foreshoulder to his hip. + +Kazan was heading for a thicket in the creek bottom half a mile away, +and a dozen times in that short distance Gray Wolf stumbled and fell. +And each time that she fell Kazan learned a little more of the +limitations of blindness. Once he sprang off in pursuit of a rabbit, but +he had not taken twenty leaps when he stopped and looked back. Gray Wolf +had not moved an inch. She stood motionless, sniffing the air--waiting +for him! For a full minute Kazan stood, also waiting. Then he returned +to her. Ever after this he returned to the point where he had left Gray +Wolf, knowing that he would find her there. + +All that day they remained in the thicket. In the afternoon he visited +the cabin. Joan and her husband were there, and both saw at once +Kazan's torn side and his lacerated head and shoulders. + +"Pretty near a finish fight for him," said the man, after he had +examined him. "It was either a lynx or a bear. Another wolf could not do +that." + +For half an hour Joan worked over him, talking to him all the time, and +fondling him with her soft hands. She bathed his wounds in warm water, +and then covered them with a healing salve, and Kazan was filled again +with that old restful desire to remain with her always, and never to go +back into the forests. For an hour she let him lie on the edge of her +dress, with his nose touching her foot, while she worked on baby things. +Then she rose to prepare supper, and Kazan got up--a little wearily--and +went to the door. Gray Wolf and the gloom of the night were calling him, +and he answered that call with a slouch of his shoulders and a drooping +head. Its old thrill was gone. He watched his chance, and went out +through the door. The moon had risen when he rejoined Gray Wolf. She +greeted his return with a low whine of joy, and muzzled him with her +blind face. In her helplessness she looked happier than Kazan in all his +strength. + +From now on, during the days that followed, it was a last great fight +between blind and faithful Gray Wolf and the woman. If Joan had known of +what lay in the thicket, if she could once have seen the poor creature +to whom Kazan was now all life--the sun, the stars, the moon, and +food--she would have helped Gray Wolf. But as it was she tried to lure +Kazan more and more to the cabin, and slowly she won. + +At last the great day came, eight days after the fight on the Sun Rock. +Kazan had taken Gray Wolf to a wooded point on the river two days +before, and there he had left her the preceding night when he went to +the cabin. This time a stout babiche thong was tied to the collar round +his neck, and he was fastened to a staple in the log wall. Joan and her +husband were up before it was light next day. The sun was just rising +when they all went out, the man carrying the baby, and Joan leading him. +Joan turned and locked the cabin door, and Kazan heard a sob in her +throat as they followed the man down to the river. The big canoe was +packed and waiting. Joan got in first, with the baby. Then, still +holding the babiche thong, she drew Kazan up close to her, so that he +lay with his weight against her. + +The sun fell warmly on Kazan's back as they shoved off, and he closed +his eyes, and rested his head on Joan's lap. Her hand fell softly on his +shoulder. He heard again that sound which the man could not hear, the +broken sob in her throat, as the canoe moved slowly down to the wooded +point. + +Joan waved her hand back at the cabin, just disappearing behind the +trees. + +"Good-by!" she cried sadly. "Good-by--" And then she buried her face +close down to Kazan and the baby, and sobbed. + +The man stopped paddling. + +"You're not sorry--Joan?" he asked. + +They were drifting past the point now, and the scent of Gray Wolf came +to Kazan's nostrils, rousing him, and bringing a low whine from his +throat. + +"You're not sorry--we're going?" Joan shook her head. + +"No," she replied. "Only I've--always lived here--in the forests--and +they're--home!" + +The point with its white finger of sand, was behind them now. And Kazan +was standing rigid, facing it. The man called to him, and Joan lifted +her head. She, too, saw the point, and suddenly the babiche leash +slipped from her fingers, and a strange light leaped into her blue eyes +as she saw what stood at the end of that white tip of sand. It was Gray +Wolf. Her blind eyes were turned toward Kazan. At last Gray Wolf, the +faithful, understood. Scent told her what her eyes could not see. Kazan +and the man-smell were together. And they were going--going--going-- + +"Look!" whispered Joan. + +The man turned. Gray Wolf's forefeet were in the water. And now, as the +canoe drifted farther and farther away, she settled back on her +haunches, raised her head to the sun which she could not see and gave +her last long wailing cry for Kazan. + +The canoe lurched. A tawny body shot through the air--and Kazan was +gone. + +The man reached forward for his rifle. Joan's hand stopped him. Her +face was white. + +"Let him go back to her! Let him go--let him go!" she cried. "It is his +place--with her." + +And Kazan reaching the shore, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and +looked for the last time toward the woman. The canoe was drifting slowly +around the first bend. A moment more and it had disappeared. Gray Wolf +had won. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DAYS OF FIRE + + +From the night of the terrible fight with the big gray lynx on the top +of the Sun Rock, Kazan remembered less and less vividly the old days +when he had been a sledge-dog, and the leader of a pack. He would never +quite forget them, and always there would stand out certain memories +from among the rest, like fires cutting the blackness of night. But as +man dates events from his birth, his marriage, his freedom from a +bondage, or some foundation-step in his career, so all things seemed to +Kazan to begin with two tragedies which had followed one fast upon the +other after the birth of Gray Wolf's pups. + +The first was the fight on the Sun Rock, when the big gray lynx had +blinded his beautiful wolf mate for all time, and had torn her pups into +pieces. He in turn had killed the lynx. But Gray Wolf was still blind. +Vengeance had not been able to give her sight. She could no longer hunt +with him, as they had hunted with the wild wolf-packs out on the plain, +and in the dark forests. So at thought of that night he always snarled, +and his lips curled back to reveal his inch-long fangs. + +The other tragedy was the going of Joan, her baby and her husband. +Something more infallible than reason told Kazan that they would not +come back. Brightest of all the pictures that remained with him was that +of the sunny morning when the woman and the baby he loved, and the man +he endured because of them, had gone away in the canoe, and often he +would go to the point, and gaze longingly down-stream, where he had +leaped from the canoe to return to his blind mate. + +So Kazan's life seemed now to be made up chiefly of three things: his +hatred of everything that bore the scent or mark of the lynx, his +grieving for Joan and the baby, and Gray Wolf. It was natural that the +strongest passion in him should be his hatred of the lynx, for not only +Gray Wolf's blindness and the death of the pups, but even the loss of +the woman and the baby he laid to that fatal struggle on the Sun Rock. +From that hour he became the deadliest enemy of the lynx tribe. Wherever +he struck the scent of the big gray cat he was turned into a snarling +demon, and his hatred grew day by day, as he became more completely a +part of the wild. + +He found that Gray Wolf was more necessary to him now than she had ever +been since the day she had left the wolf-pack for him. He was +three-quarters dog, and the dog-part of him demanded companionship. +There was only Gray Wolf to give him that now. They were alone. +Civilization was four hundred miles south of them. The nearest Hudson's +Bay post was sixty miles to the west. Often, in the days of the woman +and the baby, Gray Wolf had spent her nights alone out in the forest, +waiting and calling for Kazan. Now it was Kazan who was lonely and +uneasy when he was away from her side. + +In her blindness Gray Wolf could no longer hunt with her mate. But +gradually a new code of understanding grew up between them, and through +her blindness they learned many things that they had not known before. +By early summer Gray Wolf could travel with Kazan, if he did not move +too swiftly. She ran at his flank, with her shoulder or muzzle touching +him, and Kazan learned not to leap, but to trot. Very quickly he found +that he must choose the easiest trails for Gray Wolf's feet. When they +came to a space to be bridged by a leap, he would muzzle Gray Wolf and +whine, and she would stand with ears alert--listening. Then Kazan would +take the leap, and she understood the distance she had to cover. She +always over-leaped, which was a good fault. + +In another way, and one that was destined to serve them many times in +the future, she became of greater help than ever to Kazan. Scent and +hearing entirely took the place of sight. Each day developed these +senses more and more, and at the same time there developed between them +the dumb language whereby she could impress upon Kazan what she had +discovered by scent or sound. It became a curious habit of Kazan's +always to look at Gray Wolf when they stopped to listen, or to scent the +air. + +After the fight on the Sun Rock, Kazan had taken his blind mate to a +thick clump of spruce and balsam in the river-bottom, where they +remained until early summer. Every day for weeks Kazan went to the cabin +where Joan and the baby--and the man--had been. For a long time he went +hopefully, looking each day or night to see some sign of life there. But +the door was never open. The boards and saplings at the windows always +remained. Never a spiral of smoke rose from the clay chimney. Grass and +vines began to grow in the path. And fainter and fainter grew that scent +which Kazan could still find about it--the scent of man, of the woman, +the baby. + +One day he found a little baby moccasin under one of the closed windows. +It was old, and worn out, and blackened by snow and rain, but he lay +down beside it, and remained there for a long time, while the baby +Joan--a thousand miles away--was playing with the strange toys of +civilization. Then he returned to Gray Wolf among the spruce and balsam. + +The cabin was the one place to which Gray Wolf would not follow him. At +all other times she was at his side. Now that she had become accustomed +to blindness, she even accompanied him on his hunts, until he struck +game, and began the chase. Then she would wait for him. Kazan usually +hunted the big snow-shoe rabbits. But one night he ran down and killed a +young doe. The kill was too heavy to drag to Gray Wolf, so he returned +to where she was waiting for him and guided her to the feast. In many +ways they became more and more inseparable as the summer lengthened, +until at last, through all the wilderness, their footprints were always +two by two and never one by one. + +Then came the great fire. + +Gray Wolf caught the scent of it when it was still two days to the west. +The sun that night went down in a lurid cloud. The moon, drifting into +the west, became blood red. When it dropped behind the wilderness in +this manner, the Indians called it the Bleeding Moon, and the air was +filled with omens. + +All the next day Gray Wolf was nervous, and toward noon Kazan caught in +the air the warning that she had sensed many hours ahead of him. +Steadily the scent grew stronger, and by the middle of the afternoon the +sun was veiled by a film of smoke. + +The flight of the wild things from the triangle of forest between the +junctions of the Pipestone and Cree Rivers would have begun then, but +the wind shifted. It was a fatal shift. The fire was raging from the +west and south. Then the wind swept straight eastward, carrying the +smoke with it, and during this breathing spell all the wild creatures in +the triangle between the two rivers waited. This gave the fire time to +sweep completely, across the base of the forest triangle, cutting off +the last trails of escape. + +Then the wind shifted again, and the fire swept north. The head of the +triangle became a death-trap. All through the night the southern sky was +filled with a lurid glow, and by morning the heat and smoke and ash were +suffocating. + +Panic-striken, Kazan searched vainly for a means of escape. Not for an +instant did he leave Gray Wolf. It would have been easy for him to swim +across either of the two streams, for he was three-quarters dog. But at +the first touch of water on her paws, Gray Wolf drew back, shrinking. +Like all her breed, she would face fire and death before water. Kazan +urged. A dozen times he leaped in, and swam out into the stream. But +Gray Wolf would come no farther than she could wade. + +They could hear the distant murmuring roar of the fire now. Ahead of it +came the wild things. Moose, caribou and deer plunged into the water of +the streams and swam to the safety of the opposite side. Out upon a +white finger of sand lumbered a big black bear with two cubs, and even +the cubs took to the water, and swam across easily. Kazan watched them, +and whined to Gray Wolf. + +And then out upon that white finger of sand came other things that +dreaded the water as Gray Wolf dreaded it: a big fat porcupine, a sleek +little marten, a fisher-cat that sniffed the air and wailed like a +child. Those things that could not or would not swim outnumbered the +others three to one. Hundreds of little ermine scurried along the shore +like rats, their squeaking little voices sounding incessantly; foxes ran +swiftly along the banks, seeking a tree or a windfall that might bridge +the water for them; the lynx snarled and faced the fire; and Gray +Wolf's own tribe--the wolves--dared take no deeper step than she. + +Dripping and panting, and half choked by heat and smoke, Kazan came to +Gray Wolf's side. There was but one refuge left near them, and that was +the sand-bar. It reached out for fifty feet into the stream. Quickly he +led his blind mate toward it. As they came through the low bush to the +river-bed, something stopped them both. To their nostrils had come the +scent of a deadlier enemy than fire. A lynx had taken possession of the +sand-bar, and was crouching at the end of it. Three porcupines had +dragged themselves into the edge of the water, and lay there like balls, +their quills alert and quivering. A fisher-cat was snarling at the lynx. +And the lynx, with ears laid back, watched Kazan and Gray Wolf as they +began the invasion of the sand-bar. + +Faithful Gray Wolf was full of fight, and she sprang shoulder to +shoulder with Kazan, her fangs bared. With an angry snap, Kazan drove +her back, and she stood quivering and whining while he advanced. +Light-footed, his pointed ears forward, no menace or threat in his +attitude, he advanced. It was the deadly advance of the husky trained +in battle, skilled in the art of killing. A man from civilization would +have said that the dog was approaching the lynx with friendly +intentions. But the lynx understood. It was the old feud of many +generations--made deadlier now by Kazan's memory of that night at the +top of the Sun Rock. + +Instinct told the fisher-cat what was coming, and it crouched low and +flat; the porcupines, scolding like little children at the presence of +enemies and the thickening clouds of smoke, thrust their quills still +more erect. The lynx lay on its belly, like a cat, its hindquarters +twitching, and gathered for the spring. Kazan's feet seemed scarcely to +touch the sand as he circled lightly around it. The lynx pivoted as he +circled, and then it shot in a round snarling ball over the eight feet +of space that separated them. + +Kazan did not leap aside. He made no effort to escape the attack, but +met it fairly with the full force of his shoulders, as sledge-dog meets +sledge-dog. He was ten pounds heavier than the lynx, and for a moment +the big loose-jointed cat with its twenty knife-like claws was thrown +on its side. Like a flash Kazan took advantage of the moment, and drove +for the back of the cat's neck. + +In that same moment blind Gray Wolf leaped in with a snarling cry, and +fighting under Kazan's belly, she fastened her jaws in one of the cat's +hindlegs. The bone snapped. The lynx, twice outweighed, leaped backward, +dragging both Kazan and Gray Wolf. It fell back down on one of the +porcupines, and a hundred quills drove into its body. Another leap and +it was free--fleeing into the face of the smoke. Kazan did not pursue. +Gray Wolf came to his side and licked his neck, where fresh blood was +crimsoning his tawny hide. The fisher-cat lay as if dead, watching them +with fierce little black eyes. The porcupines continued to chatter, as +if begging for mercy. And then a thick black suffocating pall of smoke +drove low over the sand-bar and with it came air that was furnace-hot. + +At the uttermost end of the sand-bar Kazan and Gray Wolf rolled +themselves into balls and thrust their heads under their bodies. The +fire was very near now. The roar of it was like that of a great +cataract, with now and then a louder crash of falling trees. The air +was filled with ash and burning sparks, and twice Kazan drew forth his +head to snap at blazing embers that fell upon and seared him like hot +irons. + +Close along the edge of the stream grew thick green bush, and when the +fire reached this, it burned more slowly, and the heat grew less. Still, +it was a long time before Kazan and Gray Wolf could draw forth their +heads and breathe more freely. Then they found that the finger of sand +reaching out into the river had saved them. Everywhere in that triangle +between the two rivers the world had turned black, and was hot +underfoot. + +The smoke cleared away. The wind changed again, and swung down cool and +fresh from the west and north. The fisher-cat was the first to move +cautiously back to the forests that had been, but the porcupines were +still rolled into balls when Gray Wolf and Kazan left the sand-bar. They +began to travel up-stream, and before night came, their feet were sore +from hot ash and burning embers. + +The moon was strange and foreboding that night, like a spatter of blood +in the sky, and through the long silent hours there was not even the +hoot of an owl to give a sign that life still existed where yesterday +had been a paradise of wild things. Kazan knew that there was nothing to +hunt, and they continued to travel all that night. With dawn they struck +a narrow swamp along the edge of the stream. Here beavers had built a +dam, and they were able to cross over into the green country on the +opposite side. For another day and another night they traveled westward, +and this brought them into the thick country of swamp and timber along +the Waterfound. + +And as Kazan and Gray Wolf came from the west, there came from the +Hudson's Bay post to the east a slim dark-faced French half-breed by the +name of Henri Loti, the most famous lynx hunter in all the Hudson's Bay +country. He was prospecting for "signs," and he found them in abundance +along the Waterfound. It was a game paradise, and the snow-shoe rabbit +abounded in thousands. As a consequence, the lynxes were thick, and +Henri built his trapping shack, and then returned to the post to wait +until the first snows fell, when he would come back with his team, +supplies and traps. + +And up from the south, at this same time, there was slowly working his +way by canoe and trail a young university zoologist who was gathering +material for a book on _The Reasoning of the Wild_. His name was Paul +Weyman, and he had made arrangements to spend a part of the winter with +Henri Loti, the half-breed. He brought with him plenty of paper, a +camera and the photograph of a girl. His only weapon was a pocket-knife. + +And meanwhile Kazan and Gray Wolf found the home they were seeking in a +thick swamp five or six miles from the cabin that Henri Loti had built. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + +It was January when a guide from the post brought Paul Weyman to Henri +Loti's cabin on the Waterfound. He was a man of thirty-two or three, +full of the red-blooded life that made Henri like him at once. If this +had not been the case, the first few days in the cabin might have been +unpleasant, for Henri was in bad humor. He told Weyman about it their +first night, as they were smoking pipes alongside the redly glowing box +stove. + +"It is damn strange," said Henri. "I have lost seven lynx in the traps, +torn to pieces like they were no more than rabbits that the foxes had +killed. No thing--not even bear--have ever tackled lynx in a trap +before. It is the first time I ever see it. And they are torn up so bad +they are not worth one half dollar at the post. Seven!--that is over two +hundred dollar I have lost! There are two wolves who do it. Two--I know +it by the tracks--always two--an'--never one. They follow my trap-line +an' eat the rabbits I catch. They leave the fisher-cat, an' the mink, +an' the ermine, an' the marten; but the lynx--_sacré_ an' damn!--they +jump on him an' pull the fur from him like you pull the wild cotton +balls from the burn-bush! I have tried strychnine in deer fat, an' I +have set traps and deadfalls, but I can not catch them. They will drive +me out unless I get them, for I have taken only five good lynx, an' they +have destroyed seven." + +This roused Weyman. He was one of that growing number of thoughtful men +who believe that man's egoism, as a race, blinds him to many of the more +wonderful facts of creation. He had thrown down the gantlet, and with a +logic that had gained him a nation-wide hearing, to those who believed +that man was the only living creature who could reason, and that common +sense and cleverness when displayed by any other breathing thing were +merely instinct. The facts behind Henri's tale of woe struck him as +important, and until midnight they talked about the two strange wolves. + +"There is one big wolf an' one smaller," said Henri. "An' it is always +the big wolf who goes in an' fights the lynx. I see that by the snow. +While he's fighting, the smaller wolf makes many tracks in the snow just +out of reach, an' then when the lynx is down, or dead, it jumps in an' +helps tear it into pieces. All that I know by the snow. Only once have I +seen where the smaller one went in an' fought with the other, an' then +there was blood all about that was not lynx blood; I trailed the devils +a mile by the dripping." + +During the two weeks that followed, Weyman found much to add to the +material of his book. Not a day passed that somewhere along Henri's +trap-line they did not see the trails of the two wolves, and Weyman +observed that--as Henri had told him--the footprints were always two by +two, and never one by one. On the third day they came to a trap that had +held a lynx, and at sight of what remained Henri cursed in both French +and English until he was purple in the face. The lynx had been torn +until its pelt was practically worthless. + +Weyman saw where the smaller wolf had waited on its haunches, while its +companion had killed the lynx. He did not tell Henri all he thought. But +the days that followed convinced him more and more that he had found the +most dramatic exemplification of his theory. Back of this mysterious +tragedy of the trap-line there was a _reason_. + +Why did the two wolves not destroy the fisher-cat, the ermine and the +marten? Why was their feud with the lynx alone? + +Weyman was strangely thrilled. He was a lover of wild things, and for +that reason he never carried a gun. And when he saw Henri placing +poison-baits for the two marauders, he shuddered, and when, day after +day, he saw that these poison-baits were untouched, he rejoiced. +Something in his own nature went out in sympathy to the heroic outlaw of +the trap-line who never failed to give battle to the lynx. Nights in the +cabin he wrote down his thoughts and discoveries of the day. One night +he turned suddenly on Henri. + +"Henri, doesn't it ever make you sorry to kill so many wild things?" he +asked. + +Henri stared and shook his head. + +"I kill t'ousand an' t'ousand," he said. "I kill t'ousand more." + +"And there are twenty thousand others just like you in this northern +quarter of the continent--all killing, killing for hundreds of years +back, and yet you can't kill out wild life. The war of Man and the +Beast, you might call it. And, if you could return five hundred years +from now, Henri, you'd still find wild life here. Nearly all the rest of +the world is changing, but you can't change these almost impenetrable +thousands of square miles of ridges and swamps and forests. The +railroads won't come here, and I, for one, thank God for that. Take all +the great prairies to the west, for instance. Why, the old buffalo +trails are still there, plain as day--and yet, towns and cities are +growing up everywhere. Did you ever hear of North Battleford?" + +"Is she near Montreal or Quebec?" Henri asked. + +Weyman smiled, and drew a photograph from his pocket. It was the picture +of a girl. + +"No. It's far to the west, in Saskatchewan. Seven years ago I used to +go up there every year, to shoot prairie chickens, coyotes and elk. +There wasn't any North Battleford then--just the glorious prairie, +hundreds and hundreds of square miles of it. There was a single shack on +the Saskatchewan River, where North Battleford now stands, and I used to +stay there. In that shack there was a little girl, twelve years old. We +used to go out hunting together--for I used to kill things in those +days. And the little girl would cry sometimes when I killed, and I'd +laugh at her. + +"Then a railroad came, and then another, and they joined near the shack, +and all at once a town sprang up. Seven years ago there was only the +shack there, Henri. Two years ago there were eighteen hundred people. +This year, when I came through, there were five thousand, and two years +from now there'll be ten thousand. + +"On the ground where that shack stood are three banks, with a capital of +forty million dollars; you can see the glow of the electric lights of +the city twenty miles away. It has a hundred-thousand dollar college, a +high school, the provincial asylum, a fire department, two clubs, a +board of trade, and it's going to have a street-car line within two +years. Think of that--all where the coyotes howled a few years ago! + +"People are coming in so fast that they can't keep a census. Five years +from now there'll be a city of twenty thousand where the old shack +stood. And the little girl in that shack, Henri--she's a young lady now, +and her people are--well, rich. I don't care about that. The chief thing +is that she is going to marry me in the spring. Because of her I stopped +killing things when she was only sixteen. The last thing I killed was a +prairie wolf, and it had young. Eileen kept the little puppy. She's got +it now--tamed. That's why above all other wild things I love the wolves. +And I hope these two leave your trap-line safe." + +Henri was staring at him. Weyman gave him the picture. It was of a +sweet-faced girl, with deep pure eyes, and there came a twitch at the +corners of Henri's mouth as he looked at it. + +"My Iowaka died t'ree year ago," he said. "She too loved the wild +thing. But them wolf--damn! They drive me out if I can not kill them!" +He put fresh fuel into the stove, and prepared for bed. + +One day the big idea came to Henri. + +Weyman was with him when they struck fresh signs of lynx. There was a +great windfall ten or fifteen feet high, and in one place the logs had +formed a sort of cavern, with almost solid walls on three sides. The +snow was beaten down by tracks, and the fur of rabbit was scattered +about. Henri was jubilant. + +"We got heem--sure!" he said. + +He built the bait-house, set a trap and looked about him shrewdly. Then +he explained his scheme to Weyman. If the lynx was caught, and the two +wolves came to destroy it, the fight would take place in that shelter +under the windfall, and the marauders would have to pass through the +opening. So Henri set five smaller traps, concealing them skilfully +under leaves and moss and snow, and all were far enough away from the +bait-house so that the trapped lynx could not spring them in his +struggles. + +"When they fight, wolf jump this way an' that--an' sure get in," said +Henri. "He miss one, two, t'ree--but he sure get in trap somewhere." + +That same morning a light snow fell, making the work more complete, for +it covered up all footprints and buried the telltale scent of man. That +night Kazan and Gray Wolf passed within a hundred feet of the windfall, +and Gray Wolf's keen scent detected something strange and disquieting in +the air. She informed Kazan by pressing her shoulder against his, and +they swung off at right angles, keeping to windward of the trap-line. + +For two days and three cold starlit nights nothing happened at the +windfall. Henri understood, and explained to Weyman. The lynx was a +hunter, like himself, and also had its hunt-line, which it covered about +once a week. On the fifth night the lynx returned, went to the windfall, +was lured straight to the bait, and the sharp-toothed steel trap closed +relentlessly over its right hindfoot. Kazan and Gray Wolf were traveling +a quarter of a mile deeper in the forest when they heard the clanking of +the steel chain as the lynx fought; to free itself. Ten minutes later +they stood in the door of the windfall cavern. + +It was a white clear night, so filled with brilliant stars that Henri +himself could have hunted by the light of them. The lynx had exhausted +itself, and lay crouching on its belly as Kazan and Gray Wolf appeared. +As usual, Gray Wolf held back while Kazan began the battle. In the first +or second of these fights on the trap-line, Kazan would probably have +been disemboweled or had his jugular vein cut open, had the fierce cats +been free. They were more than his match in open fight, though the +biggest of them fell ten pounds under his weight. Chance had saved him +on the Sun Rock. Gray Wolf and the porcupine had both added to the +defeat of the lynx on the sand-bar. And along Henri's hunting line it +was the trap that was his ally. Even with his enemy thus shackled he +took big chances. And he took bigger chances than ever with the lynx +under the windfall. + +The cat was an old warrior, six or seven years old. His claws were an +inch and a quarter long, and curved like simitars. His forefeet and his +left hindfoot were free, and as Kazan advanced, he drew back, so that +the trap-chain was slack under his body. Here Kazan could not follow his +old tactics of circling about his trapped foe, until it had become +tangled in the chain, or had so shortened and twisted it that there was +no chance for a leap. He had to attack face to face, and suddenly he +lunged in. They met shoulder to shoulder. Kazan's fangs snapped at the +other's throat, and missed. Before he could strike again, the lynx flung +out its free hindfoot, and even Gray Wolf heard the ripping sound that +it made. With a snarl Kazan was flung back, his shoulder torn to the +bone. + +Then it was that one of Henri's hidden traps saved him from a second +attack--and death. Steel jaws snapped over one of his forefeet, and when +he leaped, the chain stopped him. Once or twice before, blind Gray Wolf +had leaped in, when she knew that Kazan was in great danger. For an +instant she forgot her caution now, and as she heard Kazan's snarl of +pain, she sprang in under the windfall. Five traps Henri had hidden in +the space in front of the bait-house, and Gray Wolf's feet found two of +these. She fell on her side, snapping and snarling. In his struggles +Kazan sprung the remaining two traps. One of them missed. The fifth, and +last, caught him by a hindfoot. + +This was a little past midnight. From then until morning the earth and +snow under the windfall were torn up by the struggles of the wolf, the +dog and the lynx to regain their freedom. And when morning came, all +three were exhausted, and lay on their sides, panting and with bleeding +jaws, waiting for the coming of man--and death. + +Henri and Weyman were out early. When they struck off the main line +toward the windfall, Henri pointed to the tracks of Kazan and Gray Wolf, +and his dark face lighted up with pleasure and excitement. When they +reached the shelter under the mass of fallen timber, both stood +speechless for a moment, astounded by what they saw. Even Henri had seen +nothing like this before--two wolves and a lynx, all in traps, and +almost within reach of one another's fangs. But surprise could not long +delay the business of Henri's hunter's instinct. The wolves lay first in +his path, and he was raising his rifle to put a steel-capped bullet +through the base of Kazan's brain, when Weyman caught him eagerly by the +arm. Weyman was staring. His fingers dug into Henri's flesh. His eyes +had caught a glimpse of the steel-studded collar about Kazan's neck. + +"Wait!" he cried. "It's not a wolf. It's a dog!" + +Henri lowered his rifle, staring at the collar. Weyman's eyes shot to +Gray Wolf. She was facing them, snarling, her white fangs bared to the +foes she could not see. Her blind eyes were closed. Where there should +have been eyes there was only hair, and an exclamation broke from +Weyman's lips. + +"Look!" he commanded of Henri. "What in the name of heaven--" + +"One is dog--wild dog that has run to the wolves," said Henri. "And the +other is--wolf." + +"And _blind_!" gasped Weyman. + +"_Oui_, blind, m'sieur," added Henri, falling partly into French in his +amazement. He was raising his rifle again. Weyman seized it firmly. + +[Illustration: "Wait! it's not a wolf!"] + +"Don't kill them, Henri," he said. "Give them to me--alive. Figure up +the value of the lynx they have destroyed, and add to that the wolf +bounty, and I will pay. Alive, they are worth to me a great deal. My +God, a dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" + +He still held Henri's rifle, and Henri was staring at him, as if he did +not yet quite understand. + +Weyman continued speaking, his eyes and face blazing. + +"A dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" he repeated. "It is wonderful, +Henri. Down there, they will say I have gone beyond _reason_, when my +book comes out. But I shall have proof. I shall take twenty photographs +here, before you kill the lynx. I shall keep the dog and the wolf alive. +And I shall pay you, Henri, a hundred dollars apiece for the two. May I +have them?" + +Henri nodded. He held his rifle in readiness, while Weyman unpacked his +camera and got to work. Snarling fangs greeted the click of the +camera-shutter--the fangs of wolf and lynx. But Kazan lay cringing, not +through fear, but because he still recognized the mastery of man. And +when he had finished with his pictures, Weyman approached almost within +reach of him, and spoke even more kindly to him than the man who had +lived back in the deserted cabin. + +Henri shot the lynx, and when Kazan understood this, he tore at the end +of his trap-chains and snarled at the writhing body of his forest enemy. +By means of a pole and a babiche noose, Kazan was brought out from under +the windfall and taken to Henri's cabin. The two men then returned with +a thick sack and more babiche, and blind Gray Wolf, still fettered by +the traps, was made prisoner. All the rest of that day Weyman and Henri +worked to build a stout cage of saplings, and when it was finished, the +two prisoners were placed in it. + +Before the dog was put in with Gray Wolf, Weyman closely examined the +worn and tooth-marked collar about his neck. + +On the brass plate he found engraved the one word, "Kazan," and with a +strange thrill made note of it in his diary. + +After this Weyman often remained at the cabin when Henri went out on the +trap-line. After the second day he dared to put his hand between the +sapling bars and touch Kazan, and the next day Kazan accepted a piece of +raw moose meat from his hand. But at his approach, Gray Wolf would +always hide under the pile of balsam in the corner of their prison. The +instinct of generations and perhaps of centuries had taught her that man +was her deadliest enemy. And yet, this man did not hurt her, and Kazan +was not afraid of him. She was frightened at first; then puzzled, and a +growing curiosity followed that. Occasionally, after the third day, she +would thrust her blind face out of the balsam and sniff the air when +Weyman was at the cage, making friends with Kazan. But she would not +eat. Weyman noted that, and each day he tempted her with the choicest +morsels of deer and moose fat. Five days--six--seven passed, and she had +not taken a mouthful. Weyman could count her ribs. + +"She die," Henri told him on the seventh night. "She starve before she +eat in that cage. She want the forest, the wild kill, the fresh blood. +She two--t'ree year old--too old to make civilize." + +Henri went to bed at the usual hour, but Weyman was troubled, and sat +up late. He wrote a long letter to the sweet-faced girl at North +Battleford, and then he turned out the light, and painted visions of her +in the red glow of the fire. He saw her again for that first time when +he camped in the little shack where the fifth city of Saskatchewan now +stood--with her blue eyes, the big shining braid, and the fresh glow of +the prairies in her cheeks. She had hated him--yes, actually hated him, +because he loved to kill. He laughed softly as he thought of that. She +had changed him--wonderfully. + +He rose, opened the door, softly, and went out. Instinctively his eyes +turned westward. The sky was a blaze of stars. In their light he could +see the cage, and he stood, watching and listening. A sound came to him. +It was Gray Wolf gnawing at the sapling bars of her prison. A moment +later there came a low sobbing whine, and he knew that it was Kazan +crying for his freedom. + +Leaning against the side of the cabin was an ax. Weyman seized it, and +his lips smiled silently. He was thrilled by a strange happiness, and a +thousand miles away in that city on the Saskatchewan he could feel +another spirit rejoicing with him. He moved toward the cage. A dozen +blows, and two of the sapling bars were knocked out. Then Weyman drew +back. Gray Wolf found the opening first, and she slipped out into the +starlight like a shadow. But she did not flee. Out in the open space she +waited for Kazan, and for a moment the two stood there, looking at the +cabin. Then they set off into freedom, Gray Wolf's shoulder at Kazan's +flank. + +Weyman breathed deeply. + +"Two by two--always two by two, until death finds one of them," he +whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RED DEATH + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf wandered northward into the Fond du Lac country, and +were there when Jacques, a Hudson Bay Company's runner, came up to the +post from the south with the first authentic news of the dread +plague--the smallpox. For weeks there had been rumors on all sides. And +rumor grew into rumor. From the east, the south and the west they +multiplied, until on all sides the Paul Reveres of the wilderness were +carrying word that _La Mort Rouge_--the Red Death--was at their heels, +and the chill of a great fear swept like a shivering wind from the edge +of civilization to the bay. Nineteen years before these same rumors had +come up from the south, and the Red Terror had followed. The horror of +it still remained with the forest people, for a thousand unmarked +graves, shunned like a pestilence, and scattered from the lower waters +of James Bay to the lake country of the Athabasca, gave evidence of the +toll it demanded. + +Now and then in their wanderings Kazan and Gray Wolf had come upon the +little mounds that covered the dead. Instinct--something that was +infinitely beyond the comprehension of man--made them _feel_ the +presence of death about them, perhaps smell it in the air. Gray Wolf's +wild blood and her blindness gave her an immense advantage over Kazan +when it came to detecting those mysteries of the air and the earth which +the eyes were not made to see. Each day that had followed that terrible +moonlit night on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded her, had added +to the infallibility of her two chief senses--hearing and scent. And it +was she who discovered the presence of the plague first, just as she had +scented the great forest fire hours before Kazan had found it in the +air. + +Kazan had lured her back to a trap-line. The trail they found was old. +It had not been traveled for many days. In a trap they found a rabbit, +but it had been dead a long time. In another there was the carcass of a +fox, torn into bits by the owls. Most of the traps were sprung. Others +were covered with snow. Kazan, with his three-quarters strain of dog, +ran over the trail from trap to trap, intent only on something +alive--meat to devour. Gray Wolf, in her blindness, scented _death_. It +shivered in the tree-tops above her. She found it in every trap-house +they came to--death--_man death_. It grew stronger and stronger, and +she whined, and nipped Kazan's flank. And Kazan went on. Gray Wolf +followed him to the edge of the clearing in which Loti's cabin stood, +and then she sat back on her haunches, raised her blind face to the gray +sky, and gave a long and wailing cry. In that moment the bristles began +to stand up along Kazan's spine. Once, long ago, he had howled before +the tepee of a master who was newly dead, and he settled back on his +haunches, and gave the death-cry with Gray Wolf. He, too, scented it +now. Death was in the cabin, and over the cabin there stood a sapling +pole, and at the end of the pole there fluttered a strip of red cotton +rag--the warning flag of the plague from Athabasca to the bay. This man, +like a hundred other heroes of the North, had run up the warning before +he laid himself down to die. And that same night, in the cold light of +the moon, Kazan and Gray Wolf swung northward into the country of the +Fond du Lac. + +There preceded them a messenger from the post on Reindeer Lake, who was +passing up the warning that had come from Nelson House and the country +to the southeast. + +"There's smallpox on the Nelson," the messenger informed Williams, at +Fond du Lac, "and it has struck the Crees on Wollaston Lake. God only +knows what it is doing to the Bay Indians, but we hear it is wiping out +the Chippewas between the Albany and the Churchill." He left the same +day with his winded dogs. "I'm off to carry word to the Reveillon people +to the west," he explained. + +Three days later, word came from Churchill that all of the company's +servants and his majesty's subjects west of the bay should prepare +themselves for the coming of the Red Terror. Williams' thin face turned +as white as the paper he held, as he read the words of the Churchill +factor. + +"It means dig graves," he said. "That's the only preparation we can +make." + +He read the paper aloud to the men at Fond du Lac, and every available +man was detailed to spread the warning throughout the post's territory. +There was a quick harnessing of dogs, and on each sledge that went out +was a roll of red cotton cloth--rolls that were ominous of death, lurid +signals of pestilence and horror, whose touch sent shuddering chills +through the men who were about to scatter them among the forest people. +Kazan and Gray Wolf struck the trail of one of these sledges on the Gray +Beaver, and followed it for half a mile. The next day, farther to the +west, they struck another, and on the fourth day still a third. The last +trail was fresh, and Gray Wolf drew back from it as if stung, her fangs +snarling. On the wind there came to them the pungent odor of smoke. They +cut at right angles to the trail, Gray Wolf leaping clear of the marks +in the snow, and climbed to the cap of a ridge. To windward of them, and +down in the plain, a cabin was burning. A team of huskies and a man were +disappearing in the spruce forest. Deep down in his throat Kazan gave a +rumbling whine. Gray Wolf stood as rigid as a rock. In the cabin a +plague-dead man was burning. It was the law of the North. And the +mystery of the funeral pyre came again to Kazan and Gray Wolf. This time +they did not howl, but slunk down into the farther plain, and did not +stop that day until they had buried themselves deep in a dry and +sheltered swamp ten miles to the north. + +After this they followed the days and weeks which marked the winter of +nineteen hundred and ten as one of the most terrible in all the history +of the Northland--a single month in which wild life as well as human +hung in the balance, and when cold, starvation and plague wrote a +chapter in the lives of the forest people which will not be forgotten +for generations to come. + +In the swamp Kazan and Gray Wolf found a home under a windfall. It was a +small comfortable nest, shut in entirely from the snow and wind. Gray +Wolf took possession of it immediately. She flattened herself out on her +belly, and panted to show Kazan her contentment and satisfaction. Nature +again kept Kazan close at her side. A vision came to him, unreal and +dream-like, of that wonderful night under the stars--ages and ages ago, +it seemed--when he had fought the leader of the wolf-pack, and young +Gray Wolf had crept to his side after his victory and had given herself +to him for mate. But this mating season there was no running after the +doe or the caribou, or mingling with the wild pack. They lived chiefly +on rabbit and spruce partridge, because of Gray Wolf's blindness. Kazan +could hunt those alone. The hair had now grown over Gray Wolf's +sightless eyes. She had ceased to grieve, to rub her eyes with her paws, +to whine for the sunlight, the golden moon and the stars. Slowly she +began to forget that she had ever seen those things. She could now run +more swiftly at Kazan's flank. Scent and hearing had become wonderfully +keen. She could wind a caribou two miles distant, and the presence of +man she could pick up at an even greater distance. On a still night she +had heard the splash of a trout half a mile away. And as these two +things--scent and hearing--became more and more developed in her, those +same senses became less active in Kazan. + +He began to depend upon Gray Wolf. She would point out the hiding-place +of a partridge fifty yards from their trail. In their hunts she became +the leader--until game was found. And as Kazan learned to trust to her +in the hunt, so he began just as instinctively to heed her warnings. If +Gray Wolf reasoned, it was to the effect that without Kazan she would +die. She had tried hard now and then to catch a partridge, or a rabbit, +but she had always failed. Kazan meant life to her. And--if she +reasoned--it was to make herself indispensable to her mate. Blindness +had made her different than she would otherwise have been. Again nature +promised motherhood to her. But she did not--as she would have done in +the open, and with sight--hold more and more aloof from Kazan as the +days passed. It was her habit, spring, summer and winter, to snuggle +close to Kazan and lie with her beautiful head resting on his neck or +back. If Kazan snarled at her she did not snap back, but slunk down as +though struck a blow. With her warm tongue she would lick away the ice +that froze to the long hair between Kazan's toes. For days after he had +run a sliver in his paw she nursed his foot. Blindness had made Kazan +absolutely necessary to her existence--and now, in a different way, she +became more and more necessary to Kazan. They were happy in their swamp +home. There was plenty of small game about them, and it was warm under +the windfall. Rarely did they go beyond the limits of the swamp to hunt. +Out on the more distant plains and the barren ridges they occasionally +heard the cry of the wolf-pack on the trail of meat, but it no longer +thrilled them with a desire to join in the chase. + +One day they struck farther than usual to the west. They left the swamp, +crossed a plain over which a fire had swept the preceding year, climbed +a ridge, and descended into a second plain. At the bottom Gray Wolf +stopped and sniffed the air. At these times Kazan always watched her, +waiting eagerly and nervously if the scent was too faint for him to +catch. But to-day he caught the edge of it, and he knew why Gray Wolf's +ears flattened, and her hindquarters drooped. The scent of game would +have made her rigid and alert. But it was not the game smell. It was +human, and Gray Wolf slunk behind Kazan and whined. For several minutes +they stood without moving or making a sound, and then Kazan led the way +on. Less than three hundred yards away they came to a thick clump of +scrub spruce, and almost ran into a snow-smothered tepee. It was +abandoned. Life and fire had not been there for a long time. But from +the tepee had come the man-smell. With legs rigid and his spine +quivering Kazan approached the opening to the tepee. He looked in. In +the middle of the tepee, lying on the charred embers of a fire, lay a +ragged blanket--and in the blanket was wrapped the body of a little +Indian child. Kazan could see the tiny moccasined feet. But so long had +death been there that he could scarcely smell the presence of it. He +drew back, and saw Gray Wolf cautiously nosing about a long and +peculiarly shaped hummock in the snow. She had traveled about it three +times, but never approaching nearer than a man could have reached with a +rifle barrel. At the end of her third circle she sat down on her +haunches, and Kazan went close to the hummock and sniffed. Under that +bulge in the snow, as well as in the tepee, there was death. They slunk +away, their ears flattened and their tails drooping until they trailed +the snow, and did not stop until they reached their swamp home. Even +there Gray Wolf still sniffed the horror of the plague, and her muscles +twitched and shivered as she lay close at Kazan's side. + +That night the big white moon had around its edge a crimson rim. It +meant cold--intense cold. Always the plague came in the days of greatest +cold--the lower the temperature the more terrible its havoc. It grew +steadily colder that night, and the increased chill penetrated to the +heart of the windfall, and drew Kazan and Gray Wolf closer together. +With dawn, which came at about eight o'clock, Kazan and his blind mate +sallied forth into the day. It was fifty degrees below zero. About them +the trees cracked with reports like pistol-shots. In the thickest spruce +the partridges were humped into round balls of feathers. The snow-shoe +rabbits had burrowed deep under the snow or to the heart of the heaviest +windfalls. Kazan and Gray Wolf found few fresh trails, and after an +hour of fruitless hunting they returned to their lair. Kazan, dog-like, +had buried the half of a rabbit two or three days before, and they dug +this out of the snow and ate the frozen flesh. + +All that day it grew colder--steadily colder. The night that followed +was cloudless, with a white moon and brilliant stars. The temperature +had fallen another ten degrees, and nothing was moving. Traps were never +sprung on such nights, for even the furred things--the mink, and the +ermine, and the lynx--lay snug in the holes and the nests they had found +for themselves. An increasing hunger was not strong enough to drive +Kazan and Gray Wolf from their windfall. The next day there was no break +in the terrible cold, and toward noon Kazan set out on a hunt for meat, +leaving Gray Wolf in the windfall. Being three-quarters dog, food was +more necessary to Kazan than to his mate. Nature has fitted the +wolf-breed for famine, and in ordinary temperature Gray Wolf could have +lived for a fortnight without food. At sixty degrees below zero she +could exist a week, perhaps ten days. Only thirty hours had passed +sinee they had devoured the last of the frozen rabbit, and she was quite +satisfied to remain in their snug retreat. + +But Kazan was hungry. He began to hunt in the face of the wind, +traveling toward the burned plain. He nosed about every windfall that he +came to, and investigated the thickets. A thin shot-like snow had +fallen, and in this--from the windfall to the burn--he found but a +single trail, and that was the trail of an ermine. Under a windfall he +caught the warm scent of a rabbit, but the rabbit was as safe from him +there as were the partridges in the trees, and after an hour of futile +digging and gnawing he gave up his effort to reach it. For three hours +he had hunted when he returned to Gray Wolf. He was exhausted. While +Gray Wolf, with the instinct of the wild, had saved her own strength and +energy, Kazan had been burning up his reserve forces, and was hungrier +than ever. + +The moon rose clear and brilliant in the sky again that night, and Kazan +set out once more on the hunt. He urged Gray Wolf to accompany him, +whining for her outside the windfall--returning for her twice--but +Gray Wolf laid her ears aslant and refused to move. The temperature had +now fallen to sixty-five or seventy degrees below zero, and with it +there came from the north an increasing wind, making the night one in +which human life could not have existed for an hour. By midnight Kazan +was back under the windfall. The wind grew stronger. It began to wail in +mournful dirges over the swamp, and then it burst in fierce shrieking +volleys, with intervals of quiet between. These were the first warnings +from the great barrens that lay between the last lines of timber and the +Arctic. With morning the storm burst in all its fury from out of the +north, and Gray Wolf and Kazan lay close together and shivered as they +listened to the roar of it over the windfall. Once Kazan thrust his head +and shoulders out from the shelter of the fallen trees, but the storm +drove him back. Everything that possessed life had sought shelter, +according to its way and instinct. The furred creatures like the mink +and the ermine were safest, for during the warmer hunting days they were +of the kind that cached meat. The wolves and the foxes had sought out +the windfalls, and the rocks. Winged things, with the exception of the +owls, who were a tenth part body and nine-tenths feathers, burrowed +under snow-drifts or found shelter in thick spruce. To the hoofed and +horned animals the storm meant greatest havoc. The deer, the caribou and +the moose could not crawl under windfalls or creep between rocks. The +best they could do was to lie down in the lee of a drift, and allow +themselves to be covered deep with the protecting snow. Even then they +could not keep their shelter long, for they had to _eat_. For eighteen +hours out of the twenty-four the moose had to feed to keep himself alive +during the winter. His big stomach demanded quantity, and it took him +most of his time to nibble from the tops of bushes the two or three +bushels he needed a day. The caribou required almost as much--the deer +least of the three. + +And the storm kept up that day, and the next, and still a third--three +days and three nights--and the third day and night there came with it a +stinging, shot-like snow that fell two feet deep on the level, and in +drifts of eight and ten. It was the "heavy snow" of the Indians--the +snow that lay like lead on the earth, and under which partridges and +rabbits were smothered in thousands. + +On the fourth day after the beginning of the storm Kazan and Gray Wolf +issued forth from the windfall. There was no longer a wind--no more +falling snow. The whole world lay under a blanket of unbroken white, and +it was intensely cold. + +The plague had worked its havoc with men. Now had come the days of +famine and death for the wild things. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf had been a hundred and forty hours without food. To +Gray Wolf this meant acute discomfort, a growing weakness. To Kazan it +was starvation. Six days and six nights of fasting had drawn in their +ribs and put deep hollows in front of their hindquarters. Kazan's eyes +were red, and they narrowed to slits as he looked forth into the day. +Gray Wolf followed him this time when he went out on the hard snow. +Eagerly and hopefully they began the hunt in the bitter cold. They swung +around the edge of the windfall, where there had always been rabbits. +There were no tracks now, and no scent. They continued in a horseshoe +circle through the swamp, and the only scent they caught was that of a +snow-owl perched up in a spruce. They came to the burn and turned back, +hunting the opposite side of the swamp. On this side there was a ridge. +They climbed the ridge, and from the cap of it looked out over a world +that was barren of life. Ceaselessly Gray Wolf sniffed the air, but she +gave no signal to Kazan. On the top of the ridge Kazan stood panting. +His endurance was gone. On their return through the swamp he stumbled +over an obstacle which he tried to clear with a jump. Hungrier and +weaker, they returned to the windfall. The night that followed was +clear, and brilliant with stars. They hunted the swamp again. Nothing +was moving--save one other creature, and that was a fox. Instinct told +them that it was futile to follow him. + +It was then that the old thought of the cabin returned to Kazan. Two +things the cabin had always meant to him--warmth and food. And far +beyond the ridge was the cabin, where he and Gray Wolf had howled at the +scent of death. He did not think of man--or of that mystery which he had +howled at. He thought only of the cabin, and the cabin had always meant +food. He set off in a straight line for the ridge, and Gray Wolf +followed. They crossed the ridge and the burn beyond, and entered the +edge of a second swamp. Kazan was hunting listlessly now. His head hung +low. His bushy tail dragged in the snow. He was intent on the +cabin--only the cabin. It was his last hope. But Gray Wolf was still +alert, taking in the wind, and lifting her head whenever Kazan stopped +to snuffle his chilled nose in the snow. At last it came--the scent! +Kazan had moved on, but he stopped when he found that Gray Wolf was not +following. All the strength that was in his starved body revealed itself +in a sudden rigid tenseness as he looked at his mate. Her forefeet were +planted firmly to the east; her slim gray head was reaching out for the +scent; her body trembled. + +Then--suddenly--they heard a sound, and with a whining cry Kazan set out +in its direction, with Gray Wolf at his flank. The scent grew stronger +and stronger in Gray Wolf's nostrils, and soon it came to Kazan. It was +not the scent of a rabbit or a partridge. It was big game. They +approached cautiously, keeping full in the wind. The swamp grew +thicker, the spruce more dense, and now--from a hundred yards ahead of +them--there came a crashing of locked and battling horns. Ten seconds +more they climbed over a snowdrift, and Kazan stopped and dropped flat +on his belly. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, her blind eyes +turned to what she could smell but could not see. + +Fifty yards from them a number of moose had gathered for shelter in the +thick spruce. They had eaten clear a space an acre in extent. The trees +were cropped bare as high as they could reach, and the snow was beaten +hard under their feet. There were six animals in the acre, two of them +bulls--and these bulls were fighting, while three cows and a yearling +were huddled in a group watching the mighty duel. Just before the storm +a young bull, sleek, three-quarters grown, and with the small compact +antlers of a four-year-old, had led the three cows and the yearling to +this sheltered spot among the spruce. Until last night he had been +master of the herd. During the night the older bull had invaded his +dominion. The invader was four times as old as the young bull. He was +half again as heavy. His huge palmate horns, knotted and irregular--but +massive--spoke of age. A warrior of a hundred fights, he had not +hesitated to give battle in his effort to rob the younger bull of his +home and family. Three times they had fought since dawn, and the +hard-trodden snow was red with blood. The smell of it came to Kazan's +and Gray Wolf's nostrils. Kazan sniffed hungrily. Queer sounds rolled up +and down in Gray Wolf's throat, and she licked her jaws. + +For a moment the two fighters drew a few yards apart, and stood with +lowered heads. The old bull had not yet won victory. The younger bull +represented youth and endurance; in the older bull those things were +pitted against craft, greater weight, maturer strength--and a head and +horns that were like a battering ram. But in that great hulk of the +older bull there was one other thing--age. His huge sides were panting. +His nostrils were as wide as bells. Then, as if some invisible spirit of +the arena had given the signal, the animals came together again. The +crash of their horns could have been heard half a mile away, and under +twelve hundred pounds of flesh and bone the younger hull went plunging +back upon his haunches. Then was when youth displayed itself. In an +instant he was up, and locking horns with his adversary. Twenty times he +had done this, and each attack had seemed filled with increasing +strength. And now, as if realizing that the last moments of the last +fight had come, he twisted the old bull's neck and fought as he had +never fought before. Kazan and Gray Wolf both heard the sharp crack that +followed--as if a dry stick had been stepped upon and broken. It was +February, and the hoofed animals were already beginning to shed their +horns--especially the older bulls, whose palmate growths drop first. +This fact gave victory to the younger bull in the blood-stained arena a +few yards from Gray Wolf and Kazan. From its socket in the old bull's +skull one of his huge antlers broke with that sharp snapping sound, and +in another moment four inches of stiletto-like horn buried itself back +of his foreleg. In an instant all hope and courage left him, and he +swung backward yard by yard, with the younger bull prodding his neck and +shoulders until blood dripped from him in little streams. At the edge +of the clearing he flung himself free and crashed off into the forest. + +The younger bull did not pursue. He tossed his head, and stood for a few +moments with heaving sides and dilated nostrils, facing in the direction +his vanquished foe had taken. Then he turned, and trotted back to the +still motionless cows and yearling. + +Kazan and Gray Wolf were quivering. Gray Wolf slunk back from the edge +of the clearing, and Kazan followed. No longer were they interested in +the cows and the young bull. From that clearing they had seen meat +driven forth--meat that was beaten in fight, and bleeding. Every +instinct of the wild pack returned to Gray Wolf now--and in Kazan the +mad desire to taste the blood he smelled. Swiftly they turned toward the +blood-stained trail of the old bull, and when they came to it they found +it spattered red. Kazan's jaws dripped as the hot scent drove the blood +like veins of fire through his weakened body. His eyes were reddened by +starvation, and in them there was a light now that they had never known +even in the days of the wolf-pack. + +He set off swiftly, almost forgetful of Gray Wolf. But his mate no +longer required his flank for guidance. With her nose close to the trail +she ran--ran as she had run in the long and thrilling hunts before +blindness came. Half a mile from the spruce thicket they came upon the +old bull. He had sought shelter behind a clump of balsam, and he stood +over a growing pool of blood in the snow. He was still breathing hard. +His massive head, grotesque now with its one antler, was drooping. +Flecks of blood dropped from his distended nostrils. Even then, with the +old bull weakened by starvation, exhaustion and loss of blood, a +wolf-pack would have hung back before attacking. Where they would have +hesitated, Kazan leaped in with a snarling cry. For an instant his fangs +sunk into the thick hide of the bull's throat. Then he was flung +back--twenty feet. Hunger gnawing at his vitals robbed him of all +caution, and he sprang to the attack again--full at the bull's +front--while Gray Wolf crept up unseen behind, seeking in her blindness +the vulnerable part which nature had not taught Kazan to find. + +This time Kazan was caught fairly on the broad palmate leaf of the +bull's antler, and he was flung back again, half stunned. In that same +moment Gray Wolf's long white teeth cut like knives through one of the +bull's rope-like hamstrings. For thirty seconds she kept the hold, while +the bull plunged wildly in his efforts to trample her underfoot. Kazan +was quick to learn, still quicker to be guided by Gray Wolf, and he +leaped in again, snapping for a hold on the bulging cord just above the +knee. He missed, and as he lunged forward on his shoulders Gray Wolf was +flung off. But she had accomplished her purpose. Beaten in open battle +with one of his kind, and now attacked by a still deadlier foe, the old +bull began to retreat. As he went, one hip sank under him at every step. +The tendon of his left leg was bitten half through. + +Without being able to see, Gray Wolf seemed to realize what had +happened. Again she was the pack-wolf--with all the old wolf strategy. +Twice flung back by the old bull's horn, Kazan knew better than to +attack openly again. Gray Wolf trotted after the bull, but he remained +behind for a moment to lick up hungrily mouthfuls of the blood-soaked +snow. Then he followed, and ran close against Gray Wolf's side, fifty +yards behind the bull. There was more blood in the trail now--a thin red +ribbon of it. Fifteen minutes later the bull stopped again, and faced +about, his great head lowered. His eyes were red. There was a droop to +his neck and shoulders that spoke no longer of the unconquerable +fighting spirit that had been a part of him for nearly a score of years. +No longer was he lord of the wilderness about him; no longer was there +defiance in the poise of his splendid head, or the flash of eager fire +in his bloodshot eyes. His breath came with a gasping sound that was +growing more and more distinct. A hunter would have known what it meant. +The stiletto-point of the younger bull's antler had gone home, and the +old bull's lungs were failing him. More than once Gray Wolf had heard +that sound in the early days of her hunting with the pack, and she +understood. Slowly she began to circle about the wounded monarch at a +distance of about twenty yards. Kazan kept at her side. + +Once--twice--twenty times they made that slow circle, and with each turn +they made the old bull turned, and his breath grew heavier and his head +drooped lower. Noon came, and was followed by the more intense cold of +the last half of the day. Twenty circles became a hundred--two +hundred--and more. Under Gray Wolf's and Kazan's feet the snow grew hard +in the path they made. Under the old bull's widespread hoofs the snow +was no longer white--but red. A thousand times before this unseen +tragedy of the wilderness had been enacted. It was an epoch of that life +where life itself means the survival of the fittest, where to live means +to kill, and to die means to perpetuate life. At last, in that steady +and deadly circling of Gray Wolf and Kazan, there came a time when the +old bull did not turn--then a second, a third and a fourth time, and +Gray Wolf seemed to know. With Kazan she drew back from the hard-beaten +trail, and they flattened themselves on their bellies under a dwarf +spruce--and waited. For many minutes the bull stood motionless, his +hamstrung quarter sinking lower and lower. And then with a deep +blood-choked gasp he sank down. + +For a long time Kazan and Gray Wolf did not move, and when at last they +returned to the beaten trail the bull's heavy head was resting on the +snow. Again they began to circle, and now the circle narrowed foot by +foot, until only ten yards--then nine--then eight--separated them from +their prey. The bull attempted to rise, and failed. Gray Wolf heard the +effort. She heard him sink back and suddenly she leaped in swiftly and +silently from behind. Her sharp fangs buried themselves in the bull's +nostrils, and with the first instinct of the husky, Kazan sprang for a +throat hold. This time he was not flung off. It was Gray Wolf's terrible +hold that gave him time to tear through the half-inch hide, and to bury +his teeth deeper and deeper, until at last they reached the jugular. A +gush of warm blood spurted into his face. But he did not let go. Just as +he had held to the jugular of his first buck on that moonlight night a +long time ago, so he held to the old bull now. It was Gray Wolf who +unclamped his jaws. She drew back, sniffing the air, listening. Then, +slowly, she raised her head, and through the frozen and starving +wilderness there went her wailing triumphant cry--the call to meat. + +For them the days of famine had passed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE RIGHT OF FANG + + +After the fight Kazan lay down exhausted in the blood-stained snow, +while faithful Gray Wolf, still filled with the endurance of her wild +wolf breed, tore fiercely at the thick skin on the bull's neck to lay +open the red flesh. When she had done this she did not eat, but ran to +Kazan's side and whined softly as she muzzled him with her nose. After +that they feasted, crouching side by side at the bull's neck and tearing +at the warm sweet flesh. + +The last pale light of the northern day was fading swiftly into night +when they drew back, gorged until there were no longer hollows in their +sides. The faint wind died away. The clouds that had hung in the sky +during the day drifted eastward, and the moon shone brilliant and clear. +For an hour the night continued to grow lighter. To the brilliance of +the moon and the stars there was added now the pale fires of the aurora +borealis, shivering and flashing over the Pole. + +Its hissing crackling monotone, like the creaking of steel +sledge-runners on frost-filled snow, came faintly to the ears of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. + +As yet they had not gone a hundred yards from the dead bull, and at the +first sound of that strange mystery in the northern skies they stopped +and listened to it, alert and suspicious. Then they laid their ears +aslant and trotted slowly back to the meat they had killed. Instinct +told them that it was theirs only by right of fang. They had fought to +kill it. And it was in the law of the wild that they would have to fight +to keep it. In good hunting days they would have gone on and wandered +under the moon and the stars. But long days and nights of starvation had +taught them something different now. + +On that clear and stormless night following the days of plague and +famine, a hundred thousand hungry creatures came out from their retreats +to hunt for food. For eighteen hundred miles east and west and a +thousand miles north and south, slim gaunt-bellied creatures hunted +under the moon and the stars. Something told Kazan and Gray Wolf that +this hunt was on, and never for an instant did they cease their +vigilance. At last they lay down at the edge of the spruce thicket, and +waited. Gray Wolf muzzled Kazan gently with her blind face. The uneasy +whine in her throat was a warning to him. Then she sniffed the air, and +listened--sniffed and listened. + +Suddenly every muscle in their bodies grew rigid. Something living had +passed near them, something that they could not see or hear, and +scarcely scent. It came again, as mysterious as a shadow, and then out +of the air there floated down as silently as a huge snowflake a great +white owl. Kazan saw the hungry winged creature settle on the bull's +shoulder. Like a flash he was out from his cover, Gray Wolf a yard +behind him. With an angry snarl he lunged at the white robber, and his +jaws snapped on empty air. His leap carried him clean over the bull. He +turned, but the owl was gone. + +Nearly all of his old strength had returned to him now. He trotted about +the bull, the hair along his spine bristling like a brush, his eyes +wide and menacing. He snarled at the still air. His jaws clicked, and he +sat back on his haunches and faced the blood-stained trail that the +moose had left before he died. Again that instinct as infallible as +reason told him that danger would come from there. + +Like a red ribbon the trail ran back through the wilderness. The little +swift-moving ermine were everywhere this night, looking like white rats +as they dodged about in the moonlight. They were first to find the +trail, and with all the ferocity of their blood-eating nature followed +it with quick exciting leaps. A fox caught the scent of it a quarter of +a mile to windward, and came nearer. From out of a deep windfall a +beady-eyed, thin-bellied fisher-cat came forth, and stopped with his +feet in the crimson ribbon. + +It was the fisher-cat that brought Kazan out; from under his cover of +spruce again. In the moonlight there was a sharp quick fight, a snarling +and scratching, a cat-like yowl of pain, and the fisher forgot his +hunger in flight. Kazan returned to Gray Wolf with a lacerated and +bleeding nose. Gray Wolf licked it sympathetically, while Kazan stood +rigid and listening. + +The fox swung swiftly away with the wind, warned by the sounds of +conflict. He was not a fighter, but a murderer who killed from behind, +and a little later he leaped upon an owl and tore it into bits for the +half-pound of flesh within the mass of feathers. + +But nothing could drive back those little white outlaws of the +wilderness--the ermine. They would have stolen between the feet of man +to get at the warm flesh and blood of the freshly killed bull. Kazan +hunted them savagely. They were too quick for him, more like elusive +flashes in the moonlight than things of life. They burrowed under the +old bull's body and fed while he raved and filled his mouth with snow. +Gray Wolf sat placidly on her haunches. The little ermine did not +trouble her, and after a time Kazan realized this, and flung himself +down beside her, panting and exhausted. + +For a long time after that the night was almost unbroken by sound. Once +in the far distance there came the cry of a wolf, and now and then, to +punctuate the deathly silence, the snow owl hooted in blood-curdling +protest from his home in the spruce-tops. The moon was straight above +the old bull when Gray Wolf scented the first real danger. Instantly she +gave the warning to Kazan and faced the bloody trail, her lithe body +quivering, her fangs gleaming in the starlight, a snarling whine in her +throat. Only in the face of their deadliest enemy, the lynx--the +terrible fighter who had blinded her long ago in that battle on the Sun +Rock!--did she give such warning as this to Kazan. He sprang ahead of +her, ready for battle even before he caught the scent of the gray +beautiful creature of death stealing over the trail. + +Then came the interruption. From a mile away there burst forth a single +fierce long-drawn howl. + +After all, that was the cry of the true master of the wilderness--the +wolf. It was the cry of hunger. It was the cry that sent men's blood +running more swiftly through their veins, that brought the moose and the +deer to their feet shivering in every limb--the cry that wailed like a +note of death through swamp and forest and over the snow-smothered +ridges until its faintest echoes reached for miles into the starlit +night. + +There was silence, and in that awesome stillness Kazan and Gray Wolf +stood shoulder to shoulder facing the cry, and in response to that cry +there worked within them a strange and mystic change, for what they had +heard was not a warning or a menace but the call of Brotherhood. Away +off there--beyond the lynx and the fox and the fisher-cat, were the +creatures of their kind, the wild-wolf pack, to which the right to all +flesh and blood was common--in which existed that savage socialism of +the wilderness, the Brotherhood of the Wolf. And Gray Wolf, setting back +on her haunches, sent forth the response to that cry--a wailing +triumphant note that told her hungry brethren there was feasting at the +end of the trail. + +And the lynx, between those two cries, sneaked off into the wide and +moonlit spaces of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + +On their haunches Kazan and Gray Wolf waited. Five minutes passed, +ten--fifteen--and Gray Wolf became uneasy. No response had followed her +call. Again she howled, with Kazan quivering and listening beside her, +and again there followed that dead stillness of the night. This was not +the way of the pack. She knew that it had not gone beyond the reach of +her voice and its silence puzzled her. And then in a flash it came to +them both that the pack, or the single wolf whose cry they had heard, +was very near them. The scent was warm. A few moments later Kazan saw a +moving object in the moonlight. It was followed by another, and still +another, until there were five slouching in a half-circle about them, +seventy yards away. Then they laid themselves flat in the snow and were +motionless. + +A snarl turned Kazan's eyes to Gray Wolf. His blind mate had drawn +back. Her white fangs gleamed menacingly in the starlight. Her ears were +flat. Kazan was puzzled. Why was she signaling danger to him when it was +the wolf, and not the lynx, out there in the snow? And why did the +wolves not come in and feast? Slowly he moved toward them, and Gray Wolf +called to him with her whine. He paid no attention to her, but went on, +stepping lightly, his head high in the air, his spine bristling. + +In the scent of the strangers, Kazan was catching something now that was +strangely familiar. It drew him toward them more swiftly and when at +last he stopped twenty yards from where the little group lay flattened +in the snow, his thick brush waved slightly. One of the animals sprang +up and approached. The others followed and in another moment Kazan was +in the midst of them, smelling and smelled, and wagging his tail. They +were dogs, and not wolves. + +In some lonely cabin in the wilderness their master had died, and they +had taken to the forests. They still bore signs of the sledge-traces. +About their necks were moose-hide collars. The hair was worn short at +their flanks, and one still dragged after him three feet of corded +babiche trace. Their eyes gleamed red and hungry in the glow of the moon +and the stars. They were thin, and gaunt and starved, and Kazan suddenly +turned and trotted ahead of them to the side of the dead bull. Then he +fell back and sat proudly on his haunches beside Gray Wolf, listening to +the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh as the starved pack +feasted. + +Gray Wolf slunk closer to Kazan. She muzzled his neck and Kazan gave her +a swift dog-like caress of his tongue, assuring her that all was well. +She flattened herself in the snow when the dogs had finished and came up +in their dog way to sniff at her, and make closer acquaintance with +Kazan. Kazan towered over her, guarding her. One huge red-eyed dog who +still dragged the bit of babiche trace muzzled Gray Wolf's soft neck for +a fraction of a second too long, and Kazan uttered a savage snarl of +warning. The dog drew back, and for a moment their fangs gleamed over +Gray Wolf's blind face. It was the Challenge of the Breed. + +The big husky was the leader of the pack, and if one of the other dogs +had snarled at him, as Kazan snarled he would have leaped at his throat. +But in Kazan, standing fierce and half wild over Gray Wolf, he +recognized none of the serfdom of the sledge-dogs. It was master facing +master; in Kazan it was more than that for he was Gray Wolf's mate. In +an instant more he would have leaped over her body to have fought for +her, more than for the right of leadership. But the big husky turned +away sullenly, growling, still snarling, and vented his rage by nipping +fiercely at the flank of one of his sledge-mates. + +Gray Wolf understood what had happened, though she could not see. She +shrank closer to Kazan. She knew that the moon and the stars had looked +down on that thing that always meant death--the challenge to the right +of mate. With her luring coyness, whining and softly muzzling his +shoulder and neck, she tried to draw Kazan away from the pad-beaten +circle in which the bull lay. Kazan's answer was an ominous rolling of +smothered thunder deep down in his throat. He lay down beside her, +licked her blind face swiftly, and faced the stranger dogs. + +The moon sank lower and lower and at last dropped behind the western +forests. The stars grew paler. One by one they faded from the sky and +after a time there followed the cold gray dawn of the North. In that +dawn the big husky leader rose from the hole he had made in the snow and +returned to the bull. Kazan, alert, was on his feet in an instant and +stood also close to the bull. The two circled ominously, their heads +lowered, their crests bristling. The husky drew away, and Kazan crouched +at the bull's neck and began tearing at the frozen flesh. He was not +hungry. But in this way he showed his right to the flesh, his defiance +of the right of the big husky. + +For a few seconds he forgot Gray Wolf. The husky had slipped back like a +shadow and now he stood again over Gray Wolf, sniffing her neck and +body. Then he whined. In that whine were the passion, the invitation, +the demand of the Wild. So quickly that the eye could scarcely follow +her movement faithful Gray Wolf sank her gleaming fangs in the husky's +shoulder. + +A gray streak--nothing more tangible than a streak of gray, silent and +terrible, shot through the dawn-gloom. It was Kazan. He came without a +snarl, without a cry, and in a moment he and the husky were in the +throes of terrific battle. + +The four other huskies ran in quickly and stood waiting a dozen paces +from the combatants. Gray Wolf lay crouched on her belly. The giant +husky and the quarter-strain wolf-dog were not fighting like sledge-dog +or wolf. For a few moments rage and hatred made them fight like +mongrels. Both had holds. Now one was down, and now the other, and so +swiftly did they change their positions that the four waiting +sledge-dogs were puzzled and stood motionless. Under other conditions +they would have leaped upon the first of the fighters to be thrown upon +his back and torn him to pieces. That was the way of the wolf and the +wolf-dog. But now they stood back, hesitating and fearful. + +The big husky had never been beaten in battle. Great Dane ancestors had +given him a huge bulk and a jaw that could crush an ordinary dog's head. +But in Kazan he was meeting not only the dog and the wolf, but all that +was best in the two. And Kazan had the advantage of a few hours of rest +and a full stomach. More than that, he was fighting for Gray Wolf. His +fangs had sunk deep in the husky's shoulder, and the husky's long teeth +met through the hide and flesh of his neck. An inch deeper, and they +would have pierced his jugular. Kazan knew this, as he crunched his +enemy's shoulder-bone, and every instant--even in their fiercest +struggling--he was guarding against a second and more successful lunge +of those powerful jaws. + +At last the lunge came, and quicker than the wolf itself Kazan freed +himself and leaped back. His chest dripped blood, but he did not feel +the hurt. They began slowly to circle, and now the watching sledge-dogs +drew a step or two nearer, and their jaws drooled nervously and their +red eyes glared as they waited for the fatal moment. Their eyes were on +the big husky. He became the pivot of Kazan's wider circle now, and he +limped as he turned. His shoulder was broken. His ears were flattened +as he watched Kazan. + +Kazan's ears were erect, and his feet touched the snow lightly. All his +fighting cleverness and all his caution had returned to him. The blind +rage of a few moments was gone and he fought now as he had fought his +deadliest enemy, the long-clawed lynx. Five times he circled around the +husky, and then like a shot he was in, sending his whole weight against +the husky's shoulder, with the momentum of a ten-foot leap behind it. +This time he did not try for a hold, but slashed at the husky's jaws. It +was the deadliest of all attacks when that merciless tribunal of death +stood waiting for the first fall of the vanquished. The huge dog was +thrown from his feet. For a fatal moment he rolled upon his side and in +the moment his four sledge-mates were upon him. All of their hatred of +the weeks and months in which the long-fanged leader had bullied them in +the traces was concentrated upon him now and he was literally torn into +pieces. + +Kazan pranced to Gray Wolf's side and with a joyful whine she laid her +head over his neck. Twice he had fought the Fight of Death for her. +Twice he had won. And in her blindness Gray Wolf's soul--if soul she +had--rose in exultation to the cold gray sky, and her breast panted +against Kazan's shoulder as she listened to the crunching of fangs in +the flesh and bone of the foe her lord and master had overthrown. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CALL + + +Followed days of feasting on the frozen flesh of the old bull. In vain +Gray Wolf tried to lure Kazan off into the forests and the swamps. Day +by day the temperature rose. There was hunting now. And Gray Wolf wanted +to be alone--with Kazan. But with Kazan, as with most men, leadership +and power roused new sensations. And he was the leader of the dog-pack, +as he had once been a leader among the wolves. Not only Gray Wolf +followed at his flank now, but the four huskies trailed behind him. Once +more he was experiencing that triumph and strange thrill that he had +almost forgotten and only Gray Wolf, in that eternal night of her +blindness, felt with dread foreboding the danger into which his newly +achieved czarship might lead him. + +For three days and three nights they remained in the neighborhood of the +dead moose, ready to defend it against others, and yet each day and +each night growing less vigilant in their guard. Then came the fourth +night, on which they killed a young doe. Kazan led in that chase and for +the first time, in the excitement of having the pack at his back, he +left his blind mate behind. When they came to the kill he was the first +to leap at its soft throat. And not until he had begun to tear at the +doe's flesh did the others dare to eat. He was master. He could send +them back with a snarl. At the gleam of his fangs they crouched +quivering on their bellies in the snow. + +Kazan's blood was fomented with brute exultation, and the excitement and +fascination that came in the possession of new power took the place of +Gray Wolf each day a little more. She came in half an hour after the +kill, and there was no longer the lithesome alertness to her slender +legs, or gladness in the tilt of her ears or the poise of her head. She +did not eat much of the doe. Her blind face was turned always in Kazan's +direction. Wherever he moved she followed with her unseeing eyes, as if +expecting each moment his old signal to her--that low throat-note that +had called to her so often when they were alone in the wilderness. + +In Kazan, as leader of the pack, there was working a curious change. If +his mates had been wolves it would not have been difficult for Gray Wolf +to have lured him away. But Kazan was among his own kind. He was a dog. +And they were dogs. Fires that had burned down and ceased to warm him +flamed up in him anew. In his life with Gray Wolf one thing had +oppressed him as it could not oppress her, and that thing was +loneliness. Nature had created him of that kind which requires +companionship--not of one but of many. It had given him birth that he +might listen to and obey the commands of the voice of man. He had grown +to hate men, but of the dogs--his kind--he was a part. He had been happy +with Gray Wolf, happier than he had ever been in the companionship of +men and his blood-brothers. But he had been a long time separated from +the life that had once been his and the call of blood made him for a +time forget. And only Gray Wolf, with that wonderful super-instinct +which nature was giving her in place of her lost sight, foresaw the end +to which it was leading him. + +Each day the temperature continued to rise until when the sun was +warmest the snow began to thaw a little. This was two weeks after the +fight near the bull. Gradually the pack had swung eastward, until it was +now fifty miles east and twenty miles south of the old home under the +windfall. More than ever Gray Wolf began to long for their old nest +under the fallen trees. Again with those first promises of spring in +sunshine and air, there was coming also for the second time in her life +the promise of approaching motherhood. + +But her efforts to draw Kazan back were unavailing, and in spite of her +protest he wandered each day a little farther east and south at the head +of his pack. + +Instinct impelled the four huskies to move in that direction. They had +not yet been long enough a part of the wild to forget the necessity of +man and in that direction there was man. In that direction, and not far +from them now, was the Hudson Bay Company's post to which they and their +dead master owed their allegiance. Kazan did not know this, but one day +something happened to bring back visions and desires that widened still +more the gulf between him and Gray Wolf. + +They had come to the cap of a ridge when something stopped them. It was +a man's voice crying shrilly that word of long ago that had so often +stirred the blood in Kazan's own veins--"_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! +m'hoosh!"_--and from the ridge they looked down upon the open space of +the plain, where a team of six dogs was trotting ahead of a sledge, with +a man running behind them, urging them on at every other step with that +cry of "_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!"_ + +Trembling and undecided, the four huskies and the wolf-dog stood on the +ridge with Gray Wolf cringing behind them. Not until man and dogs and +sledge had disappeared did they move, and then they trotted down to the +trail and sniffed at it whiningly and excitedly. For a mile or two they +followed it, Kazan and his mates going fearlessly in the trail. Gray +Wolf hung back, traveling twenty yards to the right of them, with the +hot man-scent driving the blood feverishly through her brain. Only her +love for Kazan--and the faith she still had in him--kept her that near. + +At the edge of a swamp Kazan halted and turned away from the trail. With +the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion +which nothing could quite wipe out--the suspicion that was an +inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf. Gray Wolf whined joyfully +when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her +shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side. + +The "slush" snows followed fast after this. And the "slush" snows meant +spring--and the emptying of the wilderness of human life. Kazan and his +mates soon began to scent the presence and the movement of this life. +They were now within thirty miles of the post. For a hundred miles on +all sides of them the trappers were moving in with their late winter's +catch of furs. From east and west, south and north, all trails led to +the post. The pack was caught in the mesh of them. For a week not a day +passed that they did not cross a fresh trail, and sometimes two or +three. + +Gray Wolf was haunted by constant fear. In her blindness she knew that +they were surrounded by the menace of men. To Kazan what was coming to +pass had more and more ceased to fill him with fear and caution. Three +times that week he heard the shouts of men--and once he heard a white +man's laughter and the barking of dogs as their master tossed them their +daily feed of fish. In the air he caught the pungent scent of camp-fires +and one night, in the far distance, he heard a wild snatch of song, +followed by the yelping and barking of a dog-pack. + +Slowly and surely the lure of man drew him nearer to the post--a mile +to-night, two miles to-morrow, but always nearer. And Gray Wolf, +fighting her losing fight to the end, sensed in the danger-filled air +the nearness of that hour when he would respond to the final call and +she would be left alone. + +These were days of activity and excitement at the fur company's post, +the days of accounting, of profit and of pleasure;--the days when the +wilderness poured in its treasure of fur, to be sent a little later to +London and Paris and the capitals of Europe. And this year there was +more than the usual interest in the foregathering of the forest people. +The plague had wrought its terrible havoc, and not until the fur-hunters +had come to answer to the spring roll-call would it be known accurately +who had lived and who had died. + +The Chippewans and half-breeds from the south began to arrive first, +with their teams of mongrel curs, picked up along the borders of +civilization. Close after them came the hunters from the western barren +lands, bringing with them loads of white fox and caribou skins, and an +army of big-footed, long-legged Mackenzie hounds that pulled like horses +and wailed like whipped puppies when the huskies and Eskimo dogs set +upon them. Packs of fierce Labrador dogs, never vanquished except by +death, came from close to Hudson's Bay. Team after team of little yellow +and gray Eskimo dogs, as quick with their fangs as were their black and +swift-running masters with their hands and feet, met the much larger and +dark-colored Malemutes from the Athabasca. Enemies of all these packs of +fierce huskies trailed in from all sides, fighting, snapping and +snarling, with the lust of killing deep born in them from their wolf +progenitors. + +There was no cessation in the battle of the fangs. It began with the +first brute arrivals. It continued from dawn through the day and around +the camp-fires at night. There was never an end to the strife between +the dogs, and between the men and the dogs. The snow was trailed and +stained with blood and the scent of it added greater fierceness to the +wolf-breeds. + +Half a dozen battles were fought to the death each day and night. Those +that died were chiefly the south-bred curs--mixtures of mastiff, Great +Dane, and sheep-dog--and the fatally slow Mackenzie hounds. About the +post rose the smoke of a hundred camp-fires, and about these fires +gathered the women and the children of the hunters. When the snow was no +longer fit for sledging, Williams, the factor, noted that there were +many who had not come, and the accounts of these he later scratched out +of his ledgers knowing that they were victims of the plague. + +At last came the night of the Big Carnival, For weeks and months women +and children and men had been looking forward to this. In scores of +forest cabins, in smoke-blackened tepees, and even in the frozen homes +of the little Eskimos, anticipation of this wild night of pleasure had +given an added zest to life. It was the Big Circus--the good time given +twice each year by the company to its people. + +This year, to offset the memory of plague and death, the factor had put +forth unusual exertions. His hunters had killed four fat caribou. In the +clearing there were great piles of dry logs, and in the center of all +there rose eight ten-foot tree-butts crotched at the top; and from +crotch to crotch there rested a stout sapling stripped of bark, and on +each sapling was spitted the carcass of a caribou, to be roasted whole +by the heat of the fire beneath. The fires were lighted at dusk, and +Williams himself started the first of those wild songs of the +Northland--the song of the caribou, as the flames leaped up into the +dark night. + + "Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo, + He roas' on high, + Jes' under ze sky. + air-holes beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!" + +"Now!" he yelled. "Now--all together!" And carried away by his +enthusiasm, the forest people awakened from their silence of months, +and the song burst forth in a savage frenzy that reached to the skies. + + * * * * * + +Two miles to the south and west that first thunder of human voice +reached the ears of Kazan and Gray Wolf and the masterless huskies. And +with the voices of men they heard now the excited howlings of dogs. The +huskies faced the direction of the sounds, moving restlessly and +whining. For a few moments Kazan stood as though carven of rock. Then he +turned his head, and his first look was to Gray Wolf. She had slunk back +a dozen feet and lay crouched under the thick cover of a balsam shrub. +Her body, legs and neck were flattened in the snow. She made no sound, +but her lips were drawn back and her teeth shone white. + +Kazan trotted back to her, sniffed at her blind face and whined. Gray +Wolf still did not move. He returned to the dogs and his jaws opened and +closed with a snap. Still more clearly came the wild voice of the +carnival, and no longer to be held back by Kazan's leadership, the four +huskies dropped their heads and slunk like shadows in its direction. +Kazan hesitated, urging Gray Wolf. But not a muscle of Gray Wolf's body +moved. She would have followed him in face of fire but not in face of +man. Not a sound escaped her ears. She heard the quick fall of Kazan's +feet as he left her. In another moment she knew that he was gone. +Then--and not until then--did she lift her head, and from her soft +throat there broke a whimpering cry. + +It was her last call to Kazan. But stronger than that there was running +through Kazan's excited blood the call of man and of dog. The huskies +were far in advance of him now and for a few moments he raced madly to +overtake them. Then he slowed down until he was trotting, and a hundred +yards farther on he stopped. Less than a mile away he could see where +the flames of the great fires were reddening the sky. He gazed back to +see if Gray Wolf was following and then went on until he struck an open +and hard traveled trail. It was beaten with the footprints of men and +dogs, and over it two of the caribou had been dragged a day or two +before. + +At last he came to the thinned out strip of timber that surrounded the +clearing and the flare of the flames was in his eyes. The bedlam of +sound that came to him now was like fire in his brain. He heard the song +and the laughter of men, the shrill cries of women and children, the +barking and snarling and fighting of a hundred dogs. He wanted to rush +out and join them, to become again a part of what he had once been. Yard +by yard he sneaked through the thin timber until he reached the edge of +the clearing. There he stood in the shadow of a spruce and looked out +upon life as he had once lived it, trembling, wistful and yet hesitating +in that final moment. + +A hundred yards away was the savage circle of men and dogs and fire. His +nostrils were filled with the rich aroma of the roasting caribou, and as +he crouched down, still with that wolfish caution that Gray Wolf had +taught him, men with long poles brought the huge carcasses crashing down +upon the melting snow about the fires. In one great rush the horde of +wild revelers crowded in with bared knives, and a snarling mass of dogs +closed in behind them. In another moment he had forgotten Gray Wolf, had +forgotten all that man and the wild had taught him, and like a gray +streak was across the open. + +The dogs were surging back when he reached them, with half a dozen of +the factor's men lashing them in the faces with long caribou-gut whips. +The sting of a lash fell in a fierce cut over an Eskimo dog's shoulder, +and in snapping at the lash his fangs struck Kazan's rump. With +lightning swiftness Kazan returned the cut, and in an instant the jaws +of the dogs had met. In another instant they were down and Kazan had the +Eskimo dog by the throat. + +With shouts the men rushed in. Again and again their whips cut like +knives through the air. Their blows fell on Kazan, who was uppermost, +and as he felt the burning pain of the scourging whips there flooded +through him all at once the fierce memory of the days of old--the days +of the Club and the Lash. He snarled. Slowly he loosened his hold of the +Eskimo dog's throat. And then, out of the mêlée of dogs and men, there +sprang another man--_with a club_! It fell on Kazan's back and the force +of it sent him flat into the snow. It was raised again. Behind the club +there was a face--a brutal, fire-reddened face. It was such a face that +had driven Kazan into the wild, and as the club fell again he evaded the +full weight of its blow and his fangs gleamed like ivory knives. A third +time the club was raised, and this time Kazan met it in mid-air, and his +teeth ripped the length of the man's forearm. + +"Good God!" shrieked the man in pain, and Kazan caught the gleam of a +rifle barrel as he sped toward the forest. A shot followed. Something +like a red-hot coal ran the length of Kazan's hip, and deep in the +forest he stopped to lick at the burning furrow where the bullet had +gone just deep enough to take the skin and hair from his flesh. + + * * * * * + +Gray Wolf was still waiting under the balsam shrub when Kazan returned +to her. Joyously she sprang forth to meet him. Once more the man had +sent back the old Kazan to her. He muzzled her neck and face, and stood +for a few moments with his head resting across her back, listening to +the distant sound. + +Then, with ears laid flat, he set out straight into the north and west. +And now Gray Wolf ran shoulder to shoulder with him like the Gray Wolf +of the days before the dog-pack came; for that wonderful thing that lay +beyond the realm of reason told her that once more she was comrade and +mate, and that their trail that night was leading to their old home +under the windfall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HIS SON + + +It happened that Kazan was to remember three things above all others. He +could never quite forget his old days in the traces, though they were +growing more shadowy and indistinct in his memory as the summers and the +winters passed. Like a dream there came to him a memory of the time he +had gone down to Civilization. Like dreams were the visions that rose +before him now and then of the face of the First Woman, and of the faces +of masters who--to him--had lived ages ago. And never would he quite +forget the Fire, and his fights with man and beast, and his long chases +in the moonlight. But two things were always with him as if they had +been but yesterday, rising clear and unforgetable above all others, like +the two stars in the North that never lost their brilliance. One was +Woman. The other was the terrible fight of that night on the top of the +Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded forever his wild mate, Gray Wolf. +Certain events remain indelibly fixed in the minds of men; and so, in a +not very different way, they remain in the minds of beasts. It takes +neither brain nor reason to measure the depths of sorrow or of +happiness. And Kazan in his unreasoning way knew that contentment and +peace, a full stomach, and caresses and kind words instead of blows had +come to him through Woman, and that comradeship in the wilderness--faith, +loyalty and devotion--were a part of Gray Wolf. The third unforgetable +thing was about to occur in the home they had found for themselves under +the swamp windfall during the days of cold and famine. + +They had left the swamp over a month before when it was smothered deep +in snow. On the day they returned to it the sun was shining warmly in +the first glorious days of spring warmth. Everywhere, big and small, +there were the rushing torrents of melting snows and the crackle of +crumbling ice, the dying cries of thawing rock and earth and tree, and +each night for many nights past the cold pale glow of the aurora +borealis had crept farther and farther toward the Pole in fading glory. +So early as this the poplar buds had begun to swell and the air was +filled with the sweet odor of balsam, spruce and cedar. Where there had +been famine and death and stillness six weeks before, Kazan and Gray +Wolf now stood at the edge of the swamp and breathed the earthy smells +of spring, and listened to the sounds of life. Over their heads a pair +of newly-mated moose-birds fluttered and scolded at them. A big jay sat +pluming himself in the sunshine. Farther in they heard the crack of a +stick broken under a heavy hoof. From the ridge behind them they caught +the raw scent of a mother bear, busy pulling down the tender poplar buds +for her six-weeks-old cubs, born while she was still deep in her winter +sleep. + +In the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air there breathed to +Gray Wolf the mystery of matehood and of motherhood. She whined softly +and rubbed her blind face against Kazan. For days, in her way, she tried +to tell him. More than ever she wanted to curl herself up in that warm +dry nest under the windfall. She had no desire to hunt. The crack of +the dry stick under a cloven hoof and the warm scent of the she-bear and +her cubs roused none of the old instincts in her. She wanted to curl +herself up in the old windfall--and wait. And she tried hard to make +Kazan understand her desire. + +Now that the snow was gone they found that a narrow creek lay between +them and the knoll on which the windfall was situated. Gray Wolf picked +up her ears at the tumult of the little torrent. Since the day of the +Fire, when Kazan and she had saved themselves on the sand-bar, she had +ceased to have the inherent wolf horror of water. She followed +fearlessly, even eagerly, behind Kazan as he sought a place where they +could ford the rushing little stream. On the other side Kazan could see +the big windfall. Gray Wolf could _smell_ it and she whined joyously, +with her blind face turned toward it. A hundred yards up the stream a +big cedar had fallen over it and Kazan began to cross. For a moment Gray +Wolf hesitated, and then followed. Side by side they trotted to the +windfall. With their heads and shoulders in the dark opening to their +nest they scented the air long and cautiously. Then they entered. Kazan +heard Gray Wolf as she flung herself down on the dry floor of the snug +cavern. She was panting, not from exhaustion, but because she was filled +with a sensation of contentment and happiness. In the darkness Kazan's +own jaws fell apart. He, too, was glad to get back to their old home. He +went to Gray Wolf and, panting still harder, she licked his face. It had +but one meaning. And Kazan understood. + +For a moment he lay down beside her, listening, and eyeing the opening +to their nest. Then he began to sniff about the log walls. He was close +to the opening when a sudden fresh scent came to him, and he grew rigid, +and his bristles stood up. The scent was followed by a whimpering, +babyish chatter. A porcupine entered the opening and proceeded to +advance in its foolish fashion, still chattering in that babyish way +that has made its life inviolable at the hands of man. Kazan had heard +that sound before, and like all other beasts had learned to ignore the +presence of the innocuous creature that made it. But just now he did not +stop to consider that what he saw was a porcupine and that at his first +snarl the good-humored little creature would waddle away as fast as it +could, still chattering baby talk to itself. His first reasoning was +that it was a live thing invading the home to which Gray Wolf and he had +just returned. A day later, or perhaps an hour later, he would have +driven it back with a growl. Now he leaped upon it. + +A wild chattering, intermingled with pig-like squeaks, and then a rising +staccato of howls followed the attack. Gray Wolf sprang to the opening. +The porcupine was rolled up in a thousand-spiked ball a dozen feet away, +and she could hear Kazan tearing about in the throes of the direst agony +that can befall a beast of the forests. His face and nose were a mat of +quills. For a few moments he rolled and dug in the wet mold and earth, +pawing madly at the things that pierced his flesh. Then he set off like +all dogs will who have come into contact with the friendly porcupine, +and raced again and again around the windfall, howling at every jump. +Gray Wolf took the matter coolly. It is possible that at times there are +moments of humor in the lives of animals. If so, she saw this one. She +scented the porcupine and she knew that Kazan was full of quills. As +there was nothing to do and nothing to fight she sat back on her +haunches and waited, pricking up her ears every time Kazan passed her in +his mad circuit around the windfall. At his fourth or fifth heat the +porcupine smoothed itself down a little, and continuing the interrupted +thread of its chatter waddled to a near-by poplar, climbed it and began +to gnaw the tender bark from a limb. + +At last Kazan halted before Gray Wolf. The first agony of a hundred +little needles piercing his flesh had deadened into a steady burning +pain. Gray Wolf went over to him and investigated him cautiously. With +her teeth she seized the ends of two or three of the quills and pulled +them out. Kazan was very much dog now. He gave a yelp, and whimpered as +Gray Wolf jerked out a second bunch of quills. Then he flattened himself +on his belly, stretched out his forelegs, closed his eyes, and without +any other sound except an occasional yelp of pain allowed Gray Wolf to +go on with the operation. Fortunately he had escaped getting any of the +quills in his mouth and tongue. But his nose and jaws were soon red +with blood. For an hour Gray Wolf kept faithfully at her task and by the +end of that time had succeeded in pulling out most of the quills. A few +still remained, too short and too deeply inbedded for her to extract +with her teeth. + +After this Kazan went down to the creek and buried his burning muzzle in +the cold water. This gave him some relief, but only for a short time. +The quills that remained worked their way deeper and deeper into his +flesh, like living things. Nose and lips began to swell. Blood and +saliva dripped from his mouth and his eyes grew red. Two hours after +Gray Wolf had retired to her nest under the windfall a quill had +completely pierced his lip and began to prick his tongue. In desperation +Kazan chewed viciously upon a piece of wood. This broke and crumpled the +quill, and destroyed its power to do further harm. Nature had told him +the one thing to do to save himself. Most of that day he spent in +gnawing at wood and crunching mouthfuls of earth and mold between his +jaws. In this way the barb-toothed points of the quills were dulled and +broken as they came through. At dusk he crawled under the windfall, and +Gray Wolf gently licked his muzzle with her soft cool tongue. Frequently +during the night Kazan went to the creek and found relief in its +ice-cold water. + +The next day he had what the forest people call "porcupine mumps." His +face was swollen until Gray Wolf would have laughed if she had been +human, and not blind. His chops bulged like cushions. His eyes were mere +slits. When he went out into the day he blinked, for he could see +scarcely better than his sightless mate. But the pain was mostly gone. +The night that followed he began to think of hunting, and the next +morning before it was yet dawn he brought a rabbit into their den. A few +hours later he would have brought a spruce partridge to Gray Wolf, but +just as he was about to spring upon his feathered prey the soft chatter +of a porcupine a few yards away brought him to a sudden stop. Few things +could make Kazan drop his tail. But that inane and incoherent prattle of +the little spiked beast sent him off at double-quick with his tail +between his legs. As man abhors and evades the creeping serpent, so +Kazan would hereafter evade this little creature of the forests that +never in animal history has been known to lose its good-humor or pick a +quarrel. + +Two weeks of lengthening days, of increasing warmth, of sunshine and +hunting, followed Kazan's adventure with the porcupine. The last of the +snow went rapidly. Out of the earth began to spring tips of green. The +_bakneesh_ vine glistened redder each day, the poplar buds began to +split, and in the sunniest spots, between the rocks of the ridges the +little white snow-flowers began to give a final proof that spring had +come. For the first of those two weeks Gray Wolf hunted frequently with +Kazan. They did not go far. The swamp was alive with small game and each +day or night they killed fresh meat. After the first week Gray Wolf +hunted less. Then came the soft and balmy night, glorious in the +radiance of a full spring moon when she refused to leave the windfall. +Kazan did not urge her. Instinct made him understand, and he did not go +far from the windfall that night in his hunt. When he returned he +brought a rabbit. + +Came then the night when from the darkest corner of the windfall Gray +Wolf warned him back with a low snarl. He stood in the opening, a rabbit +between his jaws. He took no offense at the snarl, but stood for a +moment, gazing into the gloom where Gray Wolf had hidden herself. Then +he dropped the rabbit and lay down squarely in the opening. After a +little he rose restlessly and went outside. But he did not leave the +windfall. It was day when he reentered. He sniffed, as he had sniffed +once before a long time ago, between the boulders at the top of the Sun +Rock. That which was in the air was no longer a mystery to him. He came +nearer and Gray Wolf did not snarl. She whined coaxingly as he touched +her. Then his muzzle found something else. It was soft and warm and made +a queer little sniffling sound. There was a responsive whine in his +throat, and in the darkness came the quick soft caress of Gray Wolf's +tongue. Kazan returned to the sunshine and stretched himself out before +the door of the windfall. His jaws dropped open, for he was filled with +a strange contentment. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + +Robbed once of the joys of parenthood by the murder on the Sun Rock, +both Gray Wolf and Kazan were different from what they would have been +had the big gray lynx not come into their lives at that time. As if it +were but yesterday they remembered the moonlit night when the lynx +brought blindness to Gray Wolf and destroyed her young, and when Kazan +had avenged himself and his mate in his terrible fight to the death with +their enemy. And now, with that soft little handful of life snuggling +close up against her, Gray Wolf saw through her blind eyes the tragic +picture of that night more vividly than ever and she quivered at every +sound, ready to leap in the face of an unseen foe, to rend all flesh +that was not the flesh of Kazan. And ceaselessly, the slightest sound +bringing him to his feet, Kazan watched and guarded. He mistrusted the +moving shadows. The snapping of a twig drew back his upper lip. His +fangs gleamed menacingly when the soft air brought a strange scent. In +him, too, the memory of the Sun Rock, the death of their first young and +the blinding of Gray Wolf, had given birth to a new instinct. Not for an +instant was he off his guard. As surely as one expects the sun to rise +so did he expect that sooner or later their deadly enemy would creep on +them from out of the forest. In another hour such as this the lynx had +brought death. The lynx had brought blindness. And so day and night he +waited and watched for the lynx to come again. And woe unto any other +creature of flesh and blood that dared approach the windfall in these +first days of Gray Wolf's motherhood! + +But peace had spread its wings of sunshine and plenty over the swamp. +There were no intruders, unless the noisy whisky-jacks, the big-eyed +moose-birds, the chattering bush sparrows, and the wood-mice and ermine +could be called such. After the first day or two Kazan went more +frequently into the windfall, and though more than once he nosed +searchingly about Gray Wolf he could find only the one little pup. A +little farther west the Dog-Ribs would have called the pup Ba-ree for +two reasons--because he had no brothers or sisters, and because he was a +mixture of dog and wolf. He was a sleek and lively little fellow from +the beginning, for there was no division of mother strength and +attention. He developed with the true swiftness of the wolf-whelp, and +not with the slowness of the dog-pup. + +For three days he was satisfied to cuddle close against his mother, +feeding when he was hungry, sleeping a great deal and preened and +laundered almost constantly by Gray Wolf's affectionate tongue. From the +fourth day he grew busier and more inquisitive with every hour. He found +his mother's blind face, with tremendous effort he tumbled over her +paws, and once he lost himself completely and sniffled for help when he +rolled fifteen or eighteen inches away from her. It was not long after +this that he began to recognize Kazan as a part of his mother, and he +was scarcely more than a week old when he rolled himself up contentedly +between Kazan's forelegs and went to sleep. Kazan was puzzled. Then +with a deep sigh Gray Wolf laid her head across one of her mate's +forelegs, with her nose touching her runaway baby, and seemed vastly +contented. For half an hour Kazan did not move. + +When he was ten days old Ba-ree discovered there was great sport in +tussling with a bit of rabbit fur. It was a little later when he made +his second exciting discovery--light and sunshine. The sun had now +reached a point where in the middle of the afternoon a bright gleam of +it found its way through an overhead opening in the windfall. At first +Ba-ree would only stare at the golden streak. Then came the time when he +tried to play with it as he played with the rabbit fur. Each day +thereafter he went a little nearer the opening through which Kazan +passed from the windfall into the big world outside. Finally came the +time when he reached the opening and crouched there, blinking and +frightened at what he saw, and now Gray Wolf no longer tried to hold him +back but went out into the sunshine and tried to call him to her. It was +three days before his weak eyes had grown strong enough to permit his +following her, and very quickly after that Ba-ree learned to love the +sun, the warm air, and the sweetness of life, and to dread the darkness +of the closed-in den where he had been born. + +That this world was not altogether so nice as it at first appeared he +was very soon to learn. At the darkening signs of an approaching storm +one day Gray Wolf tried to lure him back under the windfall. It was her +first warning to Ba-ree and he did not understand. Where Gray Wolf +failed, nature came to teach a first lesson. Ba-ree was caught in a +sudden deluge of rain. It flattened him out in pure terror and he was +drenched and half drowned before Gray Wolf caught him between her jaws +and carried him into shelter. One by one after this the first strange +experiences of life came to him, and one by one his instincts received +their birth. Greatest for him of the days to follow was that on which +his inquisitive nose touched the raw flesh of a freshly killed and +bleeding rabbit. It was his first taste of blood. It was sweet. It +filled him with a strange excitement and thereafter he knew what it +meant when Kazan brought in something between his jaws. He soon began +to battle with sticks in place of the soft fur and his teeth grew as +hard and as sharp as little needles. + +The Great Mystery was bared to him at last when Kazan brought in between +his jaws, a big rabbit that was still alive but so badly crushed that it +could not run when dropped to the ground. Ba-ree had learned to know +what rabbits and partridges meant--the sweet warm blood that he loved +better even than he had ever loved his mother's milk. But they had come +to him dead. He had never seen one of the monsters alive. And now the +rabbit that Kazan dropped to the ground, kicking and struggling with a +broken back, sent Ba-ree back appalled. For a few moments he wonderingly +watched the dying throes of Kazan's prey. Both Kazan and Gray Wolf +seemed to understand that this was to be Ba-ree's first lesson in his +education as a slaying and flesh-eating creature, and they stood close +over the rabbit, making no effort to end its struggles. Half a dozen +times Gray Wolf sniffed at the rabbit and then turned her blind face +toward Ba-ree. After the third or fourth time Kazan stretched himself +out on his belly a few feet away and watched the proceedings +attentively. Each time that Gray Wolf lowered her head to muzzle the +rabbit Ba-ree's little ears shot up expectantly. When he saw that +nothing happened and that his mother was not hurt he came a little +nearer. Soon he could reach out, stiff-legged and cautious, and touch +the furry thing that was not yet dead. + +In a last spasmodic convulsion the big rabbit doubled up its rear legs +and gave a kick that sent Ba-ree sprawling back, yelping in terror. He +regained his feet and then, for the first time, anger and the desire to +retaliate took possession of him. The kick had completed his first +education. He came back with less caution, but stiffer-legged, and a +moment later had dug his tiny teeth in the rabbit's neck. He could feel +the throb of life in the soft body, the muscles of the dying rabbit +twitched convulsively under him, and he hung with his teeth until there +was no longer a tremor of life in his first kill. Gray Wolf was +delighted. She caressed Ba-ree with her tongue, and even Kazan +condescended to sniff approvingly of his son when he returned to the +rabbit. And never before had warm sweet blood tasted so good to Ba-ree +as it did to-day. + +Swiftly Ba-ree developed from a blood-tasting into a flesh-eating +animal. One by one the mysteries of life were unfolded to him--the +mating-night chortle of the gray owl, the crash of a falling tree, the +roll of thunder, the rush of running water, the scream of a fisher-cat, +the mooing of the cow moose, and the distant call of his tribe. But +chief of all these mysteries that were already becoming a part of his +instinct was the mystery of scent. One day he wandered fifty yards away +from the windfall and his little nose touched the warm scent of a +rabbit. Instantly, without reasoning or further process of education, he +knew that to get at the sweet flesh and blood which he loved he must +follow the scent. He wriggled slowly along the trail until he came to a +big log, over which the rabbit had vaulted in a long leap, and from this +log he turned back. Each day after this he went on adventures of his +own. At first he was like an explorer without a compass in a vast and +unknown world. Each day he encountered something new, always wonderful, +frequently terrifying. But his terrors grew less and less and his +confidence correspondingly greater. As he found that none of the things +he feared did him any harm he became more and more bold in his +investigations. And his appearance was changing, as well as his view of +things. His round roly-poly body was taking a different form. He became +lithe and quick. The yellow of his coat darkened, and there was a +whitish-gray streak along his back like that along Kazan's. He had his +mother's under-throat and her beautiful grace of head. Otherwise he was +a true son of Kazan. His limbs gave signs of future strength and +massiveness. He was broad across the chest. His eyes were wide apart, +with a little red in the lower corners. The forest people know what to +expect of husky pups who early develop that drop of red. It is a warning +that they are born of the wild and that their mothers, or fathers, are +of the savage hunt-packs. In Ba-ree that tinge of red was so pronounced +that it could mean but one thing. While he was almost half dog, the wild +had claimed him forever. + +Not until the day of his first real battle with a living creature did +Ba-ree come fully into his inheritance. He had gone farther than usual +from the windfall--fully a hundred yards. Here he found a new wonder. It +was the creek. He had heard it before and he had looked down on it from +afar--from a distance of fifty yards at least. But to-day he ventured +going to the edge of it, and there he stood for a long time, with the +water rippling and singing at his feet, gazing across it into the new +world that he saw. Then he moved cautiously along the stream. He had not +gone a dozen steps when there was a furious fluttering close to him, and +one of the fierce big-eyed jays of the Northland was directly in his +path. It could not fly. One of its wings dragged, probably broken in a +struggle with some one of the smaller preying beasts. But for an instant +it was a most startling and defiant bit of life to Ba-ree. + +Then the grayish crest along his back stiffened and he advanced. The +wounded jay remained motionless until Ba-ree was within three feet of +it. In short quick hops it began to retreat. Instantly Ba-ree's +indecision had flown to the four winds. With one sharp excited yelp he +flew at the defiant bird. For a few moments there was a thrilling race, +and Ba-ree's sharp little teeth buried themselves in the jay's feathers. +Swift as a flash the bird's beak began to strike. The jay was the king +of the smaller birds. In nesting season it killed the brush sparrows, +the mild-eyed moose-birds, and the tree-sappers. Again and again it +struck Ba-ree with its powerful beak, but the son of Kazan had now +reached the age of battle and the pain of the blows only made his own +teeth sink deeper. At last he found the flesh; and a puppyish snarl rose +in his throat. Fortunately he had gained a hold under the wing and after +the first dozen blows the jay's resistance grew weaker. Five minutes +later Ba-ree loosened his teeth and drew back a step to look at the +crumpled and motionless creature before him. The jay was dead. He had +won his first battle. And with victory came the wonderful dawning of +that greatest instinct of all, which told him that no longer was he a +drone in the marvelous mechanism of wilderness life--but a part of it +from this time forth. _For he had killed_. + +Half an hour later Gray Wolf came down over his trail. The jay was torn +into bits. Its feathers were scattered about and Ba-ree's little nose +was bloody. Ba-ree was lying in triumph beside his victim. Swiftly Gray +Wolf understood and caressed him joyously. When they returned to the +windfall Ba-ree carried in his jaws what was left of the jay. + +From that hour of his first kill hunting became the chief passion of +Ba-ree's life. When he was not sleeping in the sun, or under the +windfall at night, he was seeking life that he could destroy. He +slaughtered an entire family of wood-mice. Moose-birds were at first the +easiest for him to stalk, and he killed three. Then he encountered an +ermine and the fierce little white outlaw of the forests gave him his +first defeat. Defeat cooled his ardor for a few days, but taught him the +great lesson that there were other fanged and flesh-eating animals +besides himself and that nature had so schemed things that fang must not +prey upon fang--_for food_. Many things had been born in him. +Instinctively he shunned the porcupine without experiencing the torture +of its quills. He came face to face with a fisher-cat one day, a +fortnight after his fight with the ermine. Both were seeking food, and +as there was no food between them to fight over, each went his own way. + +Farther and farther Ba-ree ventured from the windfall, always following +the creek. Sometimes he was gone for hours. At first Gray Wolf was +restless when he was away, but she seldom went with him and after a time +her restlessness left her. Nature was working swiftly. It was Kazan who +was restless now. Moonlight nights had come and the wanderlust was +growing more and more insistent in his veins. And Gray Wolf, too, was +filled with the strange longing to roam at large out into the big world. + +Came then the afternoon when Ba-ree went on his longest hunt. Half a +mile away he killed his first rabbit. He remained beside it until dusk. +The moon rose, big and golden, flooding the forests and plains and +ridges with a light almost like that of day. It was a glorious night. +And Ba-ree found the moon, and left his kill. And the direction in +which he traveled _was away from the windfall_. + +All that night Gray Wolf watched and waited. And when at last the moon +was sinking into the south and west she settled back on her haunches, +turned her blind face to the sky and sent forth her first howl since the +day Ba-ree was born. Nature had come into her own. Far away Ba-ree +heard, but he did not answer. A new world was his. He had said good-by +to the windfall--and home. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE USURPERS + + +It was that glorious season between spring and summer, when the northern +nights were brilliant with moon and stars, that Kazan and Gray Wolf set +up the valley between the two ridges on a long hunt. It was the +beginning of that _wanderlust_ which always comes to the furred and +padded creatures of the wilderness immediately after the young-born of +early spring have left their mothers to find their own way in the big +world. They struck west from their winter home under the windfall in the +swamp. They hunted mostly at night and behind them they left a trail +marked by the partly eaten carcasses of rabbits and partridges. It was +the season of slaughter and not of hunger. Ten miles west of the swamp +they killed a fawn. This, too, they left after a single meal. Their +appetites became satiated with warm flesh and blood. They grew sleek and +fat and each day they basked longer in the warm sunshine. They had few +rivals. The lynxes were in the heavier timber to the south. There were +no wolves. Fisher-cat, marten and mink were numerous along the creek, +but these were neither swift-hunting nor long-fanged. One day they came +upon an old otter. He was a giant of his kind, turning a whitish gray +with the approach of summer. Kazan, grown fat and lazy, watched him +idly. Blind Gray Wolf sniffed at the fishy smell of him in the air. To +them he was no more than a floating stick, a creature out of their +element, along with the fish, and they continued on their way not +knowing that this uncanny creature with the coal-like flappers was soon +to become their ally in one of the strange and deadly feuds of the +wilderness, which are as sanguinary to animal life as the deadliest +feuds of men are to human life. + +The day following their meeting with the otter Gray Wolf and Kazan +continued three miles farther westward, still following the stream. Here +they encountered the interruption to their progress which turned them +over the northward ridge. The obstacle was a huge beaver dam. The dam +was two hundred yards in width and flooded a mile of swamp and timber +above it. Neither Gray Wolf nor Kazan was deeply interested in beavers. +They also moved out of their element, along with the fish and the otter +and swift-winged birds. + +So they turned into the north, not knowing that nature had already +schemed that they four--the dog, wolf, otter and beaver--should soon be +engaged in one of those merciless struggles of the wild which keep +animal life down to the survival of the fittest, and whose tragic +histories are kept secret under the stars and the moon and the winds +that tell no tales. + +For many years no man had come into this valley between the two ridges +to molest the beaver. If a Sarcee trapper had followed down the nameless +creek and had caught the patriarch and chief of the colony, he would at +once have judged him to be very old and his Indian tongue would have +given him a name. He would have called him Broken Tooth, because one of +the four long teeth with which he felled trees and built dams was broken +off. Six years before Broken Tooth had led a few beavers of his own age +down the stream, and they had built their first small dam and their +first lodge. The following April Broken Tooth's mate had four little +baby beavers, and each of the other mothers in the colony increased the +population by two or three or four. At the end of the fourth year this +first generation of children, had they followed the usual law of nature, +would have mated and left the colony to build a dam and lodges of their +own. They mated, but did not emigrate. + +The next year the second generation of children, now four years old, +mated but did not leave, so that in this early summer of the sixth year +the colony was very much like a great city that had been long besieged +by an enemy. It numbered fifteen lodges and over a hundred beavers, not +counting the fourth babies which had been born during March and April. +The dam had been lengthened until it was fully two hundred yards in +length. Water had been made to flood large areas of birch and poplar and +tangled swamps of tender willow and elder. Even with this food was +growing scarce and the lodges were overcrowded. This was because +beavers are almost human in their love for home. Broken Tooth's lodge +was fully nine feet long by seven wide inside, and there were now living +in it children and grandchildren to the number of twenty-seven. For this +reason Broken Tooth was preparing to break the precedent of his tribe. +When Kazan and Gray Wolf sniffed carelessly at the strong scents of the +beaver city, Broken Tooth was marshaling his family, and two of his sons +and their families, for the exodus. + +As yet Broken Tooth was the recognized leader in the colony. No other +beaver had grown to his size and strength. His thick body was fully +three feet long. He weighed at least sixty pounds. His tail was fourteen +inches in length and five in width, and on a still night he could strike +the water a blow that could be heard a quarter of a mile away. His +webbed hindfeet were twice as large as his mate's and he was easily the +swiftest swimmer in the colony. + +Following the afternoon when Gray Wolf and Kazan struck into the north +came the clear still night when Broken Tooth climbed to the top of the +dam, shook himself, and looked down to see that his army was behind +him. The starlit water of the big pond rippled and flashed with the +movement of many bodies. A few of the older beavers clambered up after +Broken Tooth and the old patriarch plunged down into the narrow stream +on the other side of the dam. Now the shining silken bodies of the +emigrants followed him in the starlight. In ones and twos and threes +they climbed over the dam and with them went a dozen children born three +months before. Easily and swiftly they began the journey down-stream, +the youngsters swimming furiously to keep up with their parents. In all +they numbered forty. Broken Tooth swam well in the lead, with his older +workers and battlers behind him. In the rear followed mothers and +children. + +All of that night the journey continued. The otter, their deadliest +enemy--deadlier even than man--hid himself in a thick clump of willows +as they passed. Nature, which sometimes sees beyond the vision of man, +had made him the enemy of these creatures that were passing his +hiding-place in the night. A fish-feeder, he was born to be a conserver +as well as a destroyer of the creatures on which he fed. Perhaps nature +told him that too many beaver dams stopped the run of spawning fish and +that where there were many beavers there were always few fish. Maybe he +reasoned as to why fish-hunting was poor and he went hungry. So, unable +to cope singly with whole tribes of his enemies, he worked to destroy +their dams. How this, in turn, destroyed the beavers will be seen in the +feud in which nature had already schemed that he should play a part with +Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +A dozen times during this night Broken Tooth halted to investigate the +food supplies along the banks. But in the two or three places where he +found plenty of the bark on which they lived it would have been +difficult to have constructed a dam. His wonderful engineering instincts +rose even above food instincts. And when each time he moved onward, no +beaver questioned his judgment by remaining behind. In the early dawn +they crossed the burn and came to the edge of the swamp domain of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. By right of discovery and possession that swamp belonged +to the dog and the wolf. In every part of it they had left their mark of +ownership. But Broken Tooth was a creature of the water and the scent of +his tribe was not keen. He led on, traveling more slowly when they +entered the timber. Just below the windfall home of Kazan and Gray Wolf +he halted, and clambering ashore balanced himself upright on his webbed +hindfeet and broad four-pound tail. Here he had found ideal conditions. +A dam could be constructed easily across the narrow stream, and the +water could be made to flood a big supply of poplar, birch, willow and +alder. Also the place was sheltered by heavy timber, so that the winters +would be warm. Broken Tooth quickly gave his followers to understand +that this was to be their new home. On both sides of the stream they +swarmed into the near-by timber. The babies began at once to nibble +hungrily at the tender bark of willow and alder. The older ones, every +one of them now a working engineer, investigated excitedly, breakfasting +by nibbling off a mouthful of bark now and then. + +That day the work of home-building began. Broken Tooth himself selected +a big birch that leaned over the stream, and began the work of cutting +through the ten-inch butt with his three long teeth. Though the old +patriarch had lost one tooth, the three that remained had not +deteriorated with age. The outer edge of them was formed of the hardest +enamel; the inner side was of soft ivory. They were like the finest +steel chisels, the enamel never wearing away and the softer ivory +replacing itself year by year as it was consumed. Sitting on his +hindlegs, with his forepaws resting against the tree and with his heavy +tail giving him a firm balance, Broken Tooth began gnawing a narrow ring +entirely around the tree. He worked tirelessly for several hours, and +when at last he stopped to rest another workman took up the task. +Meanwhile a dozen beavers were hard at work cutting timber. Long before +Broken Tooth's tree was ready to fall across the stream, a smaller +poplar crashed into the water. The cutting on the big birch was in the +shape of an hour-glass. In twenty hours it fell straight across the +creek. While the beaver prefers to do most of his work at night he is a +day-laborer as well, and Broken Tooth gave his tribe but little rest +during the days that followed. With almost human intelligence the little +engineers kept at their task. Smaller trees were felled, and these were +cut into four or five foot lengths. One by one these lengths were rolled +to the stream, the beavers pushing them with their heads and forepaws, +and by means of brush and small limbs they were fastened securely +against the birch. When the framework was completed the wonderful cement +construction was begun. In this the beavers were the masters of men. +Dynamite was the only force that could hereafter break up what they were +building now. Under their cup-like chins the beavers brought from the +banks a mixture of mud and fine twigs, carrying from half a pound to a +pound at a load and began filling up the framework with it. Their task +seemed tremendous, and yet Broken Tooth's engineers could carry a ton of +this mud and twig mixture during a day and night. In three days the +water was beginning to back, until it rose about the butts of a dozen or +more trees and was flooding a small area of brush. This made work +easier. From now on materials could be cut in the water and easily +floated. While a part of the beaver colony was taking advantage of the +water, others were felling trees end to end with the birch, laying the +working frame of a dam a hundred feet in width. + +They had nearly accomplished this work when one morning Kazan and Gray +Wolf returned to the swamp. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + +A soft wind blowing from the south and east brought the scent of the +invaders to Gray Wolf's nose when they were still half a mile away. She +gave the warning to Kazan and he, too, found the strange scent in the +air. It grew stronger as they advanced. When two hundred yards from the +windfall they heard the sudden crash of a falling tree, and stopped. For +a full minute they stood tense and listening. Then the silence was +broken by a squeaking cry, followed by a splash. Gray Wolf's alert ears +fell back and she turned her blind face understandingly toward Kazan. +They trotted ahead slowly, approaching the windfall from behind. Not +until they had reached the top of the knoll on which it was situated did +Kazan begin to see the wonderful change that had taken place during +their absence. Astounded, they stood while he stared. There was no +longer a little creek below them. Where it had been was a pond that +reached almost to the foot of the knoll. It was fully a hundred feet in +width and the backwater had flooded the trees and bush for five or six +times that distance toward the burn. They had come up quietly and Broken +Tooth's dull-scented workers were unaware of their presence. Not fifty +feet away Broken Tooth himself was gnawing at the butt of a tree. An +equal distance to the right of him four or five of the baby beavers were +at play building a miniature dam of mud and tiny twigs. On the opposite +side of the pond was a steep bank six or seven feet high, and here a few +of the older children--two years old, but still not workmen--were having +great fun climbing the bank and using it as a toboggan-slide. It was +their splashing that Kazan and Gray Wolf had heard. In a dozen different +places the older beavers were at work. + +A few weeks before Kazan had looked upon a similar scene when he had +returned into the north from Broken Tooth's old home. It had not +interested him then. But a quick and thrilling change swept through him +now. The beavers had ceased to be mere water animals, uneatable and +with an odor that displeased him. They were invaders--and enemies. His +fangs bared silently. His crest stiffened like the hair of a brush, and +the muscles of his forelegs and shoulders stood out like whipcords. Not +a sound came from him as he rushed down upon Broken Tooth. The old +beaver was oblivious of danger until Kazan was within twenty feet of +him. Naturally slow of movement on land, he stood for an instant +stupefied. Then he swung down from the tree as Kazan leaped upon him. +Over and over they rolled to the edge of the bank, carried on by the +dog's momentum. In another moment the thick heavy body of the beaver had +slipped like oil from under Kazan and Broken Tooth was safe in his +element, two holes bitten clean through his fleshy tail. Baffled in his +effort to get a death-hold on Broken Tooth, Kazan swung like a flash to +the right. The young beavers had not moved. Astonished and frightened at +what they had seen, they stood as if stupefied. Not until they saw Kazan +tearing toward them did they awaken to action. Three of them reached the +water. The fourth and fifth--baby beavers not more than three months +old--were too late. With a single snap of his jaw Kazan broke the hack +of one. The other he pinned down by the throat and shook as a terrier +shakes a rat. When Gray Wolf trotted down to him both of the little +beavers were dead. She sniffed at their soft little bodies and whined. +Perhaps the baby creatures reminded her of runaway Ba-ree, her own baby, +for there was a note of longing in her whine as she nosed them. It was +the mother whine. + +But if Gray Wolf had visions of her own Kazan understood nothing of +them. He had killed two of the creatures that had dared to invade their +home. To the little beavers he had been as merciless as the gray lynx +that had murdered Gray Wolf's first children on the top of the Sun Rock. +Now that he had sunk his teeth into the flesh of his enemies his blood +was filled with a frenzied desire to kill. He raved along the edge of +the pond, snarling at the uneasy water under which Broken Tooth had +disappeared. All of the beavers had taken refuge in the pond, and its +surface was heaving with the passing of many bodies beneath. Kazan came +to the end of the dam. This was new. Instinctively he knew that it was +the work of Broken Tooth and his tribe and for a few moments he tore +fiercely at the matted sticks and limbs. Suddenly there was an upheaval +of water close to the dam, fifty feet out from the bank, and Broken +Tooth's big gray head appeared. For a tense half minute Broken Tooth and +Kazan measured each other at that distance. Then Broken Tooth drew his +wet shining body out of the water to the top of the dam, and squatted +flat, facing Kazan. The old patriarch was alone. Not another beaver had +shown himself. + +The surface of the pond had now become quiet. Vainly Kazan tried to +discover a footing that would allow him to reach the watchful invader. +But between the solid wall of the dam and the bank there was a tangled +framework through which the water rushed with some violence. Three times +Kazan fought to work his way through that tangle, and three times his +efforts ended in sudden plunges into the water. All this time Broken +Tooth did not move. When at last Kazan gave up the attack the old +engineer slipped over the edge of the dam and disappeared under the +water. He had learned that Kazan, like the lynx, could not fight water +and he spread the news among the members of his colony. + +Gray Wolf and Kazan returned to the windfall and lay down in the warm +sun. Half an hour later Broken Tooth drew himself out on the opposite +shore of the pond. He was followed by other beavers. Across the water +they resumed their work as if nothing had happened. The tree-cutters +returned to their trees. Half a dozen worked in the water, carrying +loads of cement and twigs. The middle of the pond was their dead-line. +Across this not one of them passed. A dozen times during the hour that +followed one of the beavers swam up to the dead-line, and rested there, +looking at the shining little bodies of the babies that Kazan had +killed. Perhaps it was the mother, and perhaps some finer instinct +unknown to Kazan told this to Gray Wolf. For Gray Wolf went down twice +to sniff at the dead bodies, and each time--without seeing--she went +when the mother beaver had come to the dead-line. + +The first fierce animus had worn itself from Kazan's blood, and he now +watched the beavers closely. He had learned that they were not fighters. +They were many to one and yet they ran from him like a lot of rabbits. +Broken Tooth had not even struck at him, and slowly it grew upon him +that these invading creatures that used both the water and land would +have to be hunted as he stalked the rabbit and the partridge. Early in +the afternoon he slipped off into the bush, followed by Gray Wolf. He +had often begun the stalking of a rabbit by moving _away_ from it and he +employed this wolf trick now with the beavers. Beyond the windfall he +turned and began trotting up the creek, with the wind. For a quarter of +a mile the creek was deeper than it had ever been. One of their old +fording places was completely submerged, and at last Kazan plunged in +and swam across, leaving Gray Wolf to wait for him on the windfall side +of the stream. + +Alone he made his way quickly in the direction of the dam, traveling two +hundred yards back from the creek. Twenty yards below the dam a dense +thicket of alder and willow grew close to the creek and Kazan took +advantage of this. He approached within a leap or two of the dam without +being seen and crouched close to the ground, ready to spring forth when +the opportunity came. Most of the beavers were now working in the water. +The four or five still on shore were close to the water and some +distance up-stream. After a wait of several minutes Kazan was almost on +the point of staking everything on a wild rush upon his enemies when a +movement on the dam attracted his attention. Half-way out two or three +beavers were at work strengthening the central structure with cement. +Swift as a flash Kazan darted from his cover to the shelter behind the +dam. Here the water was very shallow, the main portion of the stream +finding a passage close to the opposite shore. Nowhere did it reach to +his belly as he waded out. He was completely hidden from the beavers, +and the wind was in his favor. The noise of running water drowned what +little sound he made. Soon he heard the beaver workmen over him. The +branches of the fallen birch gave him a footing, and he clambered up. + +A moment later his head and shoulders appeared above the top of the +dam. Scarce an arm's length away Broken Tooth was forcing into place a +three-foot length of poplar as big around as a man's arm. He was so busy +that he did not hear or see Kazan. Another beaver gave the warning as he +plunged into the pond. Broken Tooth looked up, and his eyes met Kazan's +bared fangs. There was no time to turn. He threw himself back, but it +was a moment too late. Kazan was upon him. His long fangs sank deep into +Broken Tooth's neck. But the old beaver had thrown himself enough back +to make Kazan lose his footing. At the same moment his chisel-like teeth +got a firm hold of the loose skin at Kazan's throat. Thus clinched, with +Kazan's long teeth buried almost to the beaver's jugular, they plunged +down into the deep water of the pond. + +Broken Tooth weighed sixty pounds. The instant he struck the water he +was in his element, and holding tenaciously to the grip he had obtained +on Kazan's neck he sank like a chunk of iron. Kazan was pulled +completely under. The water rushed into his mouth, his ears, eyes and +nose. He was blinded, and his senses were a roaring tumult. But instead +of struggling to free himself he held his breath and buried his teeth +deeper. They touched the soft bottom and for a moment floundered in the +mud. Then Kazan loosened his hold. He was fighting for his own life +now--and not for Broken Tooth's. With all of the strength of his +powerful limbs he struggled to break loose--to rise to the surface, to +fresh air, to life. He clamped his jaws shut, knowing that to breathe +was to die. On land he could have freed himself from Broken Tooth's hold +without an effort. But under water the old beaver's grip was more deadly +than would have been the fangs of a lynx ashore. There was a sudden +swirl of water as a second beaver circled close about the struggling +pair. Had he closed in with Broken Tooth, Kazan's struggles would +quickly have ceased. + +But nature had not foreseen the day when Broken Tooth would be fighting +with fang. The old patriarch had no particular reason now for holding +Kazan down. He was not vengeful. He did not thirst for blood or death. +Finding that he was free, and that this strange enemy that had twice +leaped upon him could do him no harm, he loosed his hold. It was not a +moment too soon for Kazan. He was struggling weakly when he rose to the +surface of the water. Three-quarters drowned, he succeeded in raising +his forepaws over a slender branch that projected from the dam. This +gave him time to fill his lungs with air, and to cough forth the water +that had almost ended his existence. For ten minutes he clung to the +branch before he dared attempt the short swim ashore. When he reached +the bank he dragged himself up weakly. All the strength was gone from +his body. His limbs shook. His jaws hung loose. He was beaten--completely +beaten. And a creature without a fang had worsted him. He felt the +abasement of it. Drenched and slinking, he went to the windfall, lay +down in the sun, and waited for Gray Wolf. + +Days followed in which Kazan's desire to destroy his beaver enemies +became the consuming passion of his life. Each day the dam became more +formidable. Cement work in the water was carried on by the beavers +swiftly and safely. The water in the pond rose higher each twenty-four +hours, and the pond grew steadily wider. The water had now been turned +into the depression that encircled the windfall, and in another week or +two, if the beavers continued their work, Kazan's and Gray Wolf's home +would be nothing more than a small island in the center of a wide area +of submerged swamp. + +Kazan hunted only for food now, and not for pleasure. Ceaselessly he +watched his opportunity to leap upon incautious members of Broken +Tooth's tribe. The third day after the struggle under the water he +killed a big beaver that approached too close to the willow thicket. The +fifth day two of the young beavers wandered into the flooded depression +back of the windfall and Kazan caught them in shallow water and tore +them into pieces. After these successful assaults the beavers began to +work mostly at night. This was to Kazan's advantage, for he was a +night-hunter. On each of two consecutive nights he killed a beaver. +Counting the young, he had killed seven when the otter came. + +Never had Broken Tooth been placed between two deadlier or more +ferocious enemies than the two that now assailed him. On shore Kazan +was his master because of his swiftness, keener scent, and fighting +trickery. In the water the otter was a still greater menace. He was +swifter than the fish that he caught for food. His teeth were like steel +needles. He was so sleek and slippery that it would have been impossible +for them to hold him with their chisel-like teeth could they have caught +him. The otter, like the beaver, possessed no hunger for blood. Yet in +all the Northland he was the greatest destroyer of their kind--an even +greater destroyer than man. He came and passed like a plague, and it was +in the coldest days of winter that greatest destruction came with him. +In those days he did not assault the beavers in their snug houses. He +did what man could do only with dynamite--made an embrasure through +their dam. Swiftly the water would fall, the surface ice would crash +down, and the beaver houses would be left out of water. Then followed +death for the beavers--starvation and cold. With the protecting water +gone from about their houses, the drained pond a chaotic mass of broken +ice, and the temperature forty or fifty degrees below zero, they would +die within a few hours. For the beaver, with his thick coat of fur, can +stand less cold than man. Through all the long winter the water about +his home is as necessary to him as fire to a child. + +But it was summer now and Broken Tooth and his colony had no very great +fear of the otter. It would cost them some labor to repair the damage he +did, but there was plenty of food and it was warm. For two days the +otter frisked about the dam and the deep water of the pond. Kazan took +him for a beaver, and tried vainly to stalk him. The otter regarded +Kazan suspiciously and kept well out of his way. Neither knew that the +other was an ally. Meanwhile the beavers continued their work with +greater caution. The water in the pond had now risen to a point where +the engineers had begun the construction of three lodges. On the third +day the destructive instinct of the otter began its work. He began to +examine the dam, close down to the foundation. It was not long before he +found a weak spot to begin work on, and with his sharp teeth and small +bullet-like head he commenced his drilling operations. Inch by inch he +worked his way through the dam, burrowing and gnawing over and under the +timbers, and always through the cement. The round hole he made was fully +seven inches in diameter. In six hours he had cut it through the +five-foot base of the dam. + +A torrent of water began to rush from the pond as if forced out by a +hydraulic pump. Kazan and Gray Wolf were hiding in the willows on the +south side of the pond when this happened. They heard the roar of the +stream tearing through the embrasure and Kazan saw the otter crawl up to +the top of the dam and shake himself like a huge water-rat. Within +thirty minutes the water in the pond had fallen perceptibly, and the +force of the water pouring through the hole was constantly increasing +the outlet. In another half hour the foundations of the three lodges, +which had been laid in about ten inches of water, stood on mud. Not +until Broken Tooth discovered that the water was receding from the +houses did he take alarm. He was thrown into a panic, and very soon +every beaver in the colony tearing excitedly about the pond. They swam +swiftly from shore to shore, paying no attention to the dead-line now. +Broken Tooth and the older workmen made for the dam, and with a snarling +cry the otter plunged down among them and out like a flash for the creek +above the pond. Swiftly the water continued to fall and as it fell the +excitement of the beavers increased. They forgot Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +Several of the younger members of the colony drew themselves ashore on +the windfall side of the pond, and whining softly Kazan was about to +slip back through the willows when one of the older beavers waddled up +through the deepening mud close on his ambush. In two leaps Kazan was +upon him, with Gray Wolf a leap behind him. The short fierce struggle in +the mud was seen by the other beavers and they crossed swiftly to the +opposite side of the pond. The water had receded to a half of its +greatest width before Broken Tooth and his workmen discovered the breach +in the wall of the dam. The work of repair was begun at once. For this +work sticks and brush of considerable size were necessary, and to reach +this material the beavers were compelled to drag their heavy bodies +through the ten or fifteen yards of soft mud left by the falling water. +Peril of fang no longer kept them back. Instinct told them that they +were fighting for their existence--that if the embrasure were not filled +up and the water kept in the pond they would very soon be completely +exposed to their enemies. It was a day of slaughter for Gray Wolf and +Kazan. They killed two more beavers in the mud close to the willows. +Then they crossed the creek below the dam and cut off three beavers in +the depression behind the windfall. There was no escape for these three. +They were torn into pieces. Farther up the creek Kazan caught a young +beaver and killed it. + +Late in the afternoon the slaughter ended. Broken Tooth and his +courageous engineers had at last repaired the breach, and the water in +the pond began to rise. + +Half a mile up the creek the big otter was squatted on a log basking in +the last glow of the setting sun. To-morrow he would go and do over +again his work of destruction. That was his method. For him it was play. + +But that strange and unseen arbiter of the forests called O-ee-ki, "the +Spirit," by those who speak the wild tongue, looked down at last with +mercy upon Broken Tooth and his death-stricken tribe. For in that last +glow of sunset Kazan and Gray Wolf slipped stealthily up the creek--to +find the otter basking half asleep on the log. + +The day's work, a full stomach, and the pool of warm sunlight in which +he lay had all combined to make the otter sleepy. He was as motionless +as the log on which he had stretched himself. He was big and gray and +old. For ten years he had lived to prove his cunning superior to that of +man. Vainly traps had been set for him. Wily trappers had built narrow +sluice-ways of rock and tree in small streams for him, but the old otter +had foiled their cunning and escaped the steel jaws waiting at the lower +end of each sluice. The trail he left in soft mud told of his size. A +few trappers had seen him. His soft pelt would long ago have found its +way to London, Paris or Berlin had it not been for his cunning. He was +fit for a princess, a duke or an emperor. For ten years he had lived +and escaped the demands of the rich. + +But this was summer. No trapper would have killed him now, for his pelt +was worthless. Nature and instinct both told him this. At this season he +did not dread man, for there was no man to dread. So he lay asleep on +the log, oblivious to everything but the comfort of sleep and the warmth +of the sun. + +Soft-footed, searching still for signs of the furry enemies who had +invaded their domain, Kazan slipped along the creek. Gray Wolf ran close +at his shoulder. They made no sound, and the wind was in their +favor--bringing scents toward them. It brought the otter smell. To Kazan +and Gray Wolf it was the scent of a water animal, rank and fishy, and +they took it for the beaver. They advanced still more cautiously. Then +Kazan saw the big otter asleep on the log and he gave the warning to +Gray Wolf. She stopped, standing with her head thrown up, while Kazan +made his stealthy advance. The otter stirred uneasily. It was growing +dusk. The golden pool of sunlight had faded away. Back in the darkening +timber an owl greeted night with its first-low call. The otter breathed +deeply. His whiskered muzzle twitched. He was awakening--stirring--when +Kazan leaped upon him. Face to face, in fair fight, the old otter could +have given a good account of himself. But there was no chance now. The +wild itself had for the first time in his life become his deadliest +enemy. It was not man now--but O-ee-ki, "the Spirit," that had laid its +hand upon him. And from the Spirit there was no escape. Kazan's fangs +sank into his soft jugular. Perhaps he died without knowing what it was +that had leaped upon him. For he died--quickly, and Kazan and Gray Wolf +went on their way, hunting still for enemies to slaughter, and not +knowing that in the otter they had killed the one ally who would have +driven the beavers from their swamp home. + +The days that followed grew more and more hopeless for Kazan and Gray +Wolf. With the otter gone Broken Tooth and his tribe held the winning +hand. Each day the water backed a little farther into the depression +surrounding the windfall. By the middle of July only a narrow strip of +land connected the windfall hummock with the dry land of the swamp. In +deep water the beavers now worked unmolested. Inch by inch the water +rose, until there came the day when it began to overflow the connecting +strip. For the last time Kazan and Gray Wolf passed from their windfall +home and traveled up the stream between the two ridges. The creek held a +new meaning for them now and as they traveled they sniffed its odors and +listened to its sounds with an interest they had never known before. It +was an interest mingled a little with fear, for something in the manner +in which the beavers had beaten them reminded Kazan and Gray Wolf of +_man_. And that night, when in the radiance of the big white moon they +came within scent of the beaver colony that Broken Tooth had left, they +turned quickly northward into the plains. Thus had brave old Broken +Tooth taught them to respect the flesh and blood and handiwork of his +tribe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + +July and August of 1911 were months of great fires in the Northland. The +swamp home of Kazan and Gray Wolf, and the green valley between the two +ridges, had escaped the seas of devastating flame; but now, as they set +forth on their wandering adventures again, it was not long before their +padded feet came in contact with the seared and blackened desolation +that had followed so closely after the plague and starvation of the +preceding winter. In his humiliation and defeat, after being driven from +his swamp home by the beavers, Kazan led his blind mate first into the +south. Twenty miles beyond the ridge they struck the fire-killed +forests. Winds from Hudson's Bay had driven the flames in an unbroken +sea into the west, and they had left not a vestige of life or a patch of +green. Blind Gray Wolf could not see the blackened world, but she +_sensed_ it. It recalled to her memory of that other fire, after the +battle on the Sun Rock; and all of her wonderful instincts, sharpened +and developed by her blindness, told her that to the north--and not +south--lay the hunting-grounds they were seeking. The strain of dog that +was in Kazan still pulled him south. It was not because he sought man, +for to man he had now become as deadly an enemy as Gray Wolf herself. It +was simply dog instinct to travel southward; in the face of fire it was +wolf instinct to travel northward. At the end of the third day Gray Wolf +won. They recrossed the little valley between the two ridges, and swung +north and west into the Athabasca country, striking a course that would +ultimately bring them to the headwaters of the McFarlane River. + +Late in the preceding autumn a prospector had come up to Fort Smith, on +the Slave River, with a pickle bottle filled with gold dust and nuggets. +He had made the find on the McFarlane. The first mails had taken the +news to the outside world, and by midwinter the earliest members of a +treasure-hunting horde were rushing into the country by snow-shoe and +dog-sledge. Other finds came thick and fast. The McFarlane was rich in +free gold, and miners by the score staked out their claims along it and +began work. Latecomers swung to new fields farther north and east, and +to Fort Smith came rumors of "finds" richer than those of the Yukon. A +score of men at first--then a hundred, five hundred, a thousand--rushed +into the new country. Most of these were from the prairie countries to +the south, and from the placer beds of the Saskatchewan and the Frazer. +From the far North, traveling by way of the Mackenzie and the Liard, +came a smaller number of seasoned prospectors and adventurers from the +Yukon--men who knew what it meant to starve and freeze and die by +inches. + +One of these late comers was Sandy McTrigger. There were several reasons +why Sandy had left the Yukon. He was "in bad" with the police who +patrolled the country west of Dawson, and he was "broke." In spite of +these facts he was one of the best prospectors that had ever followed +the shores of the Klondike. He had made discoveries running up to a +million or two, and had promptly lost them through gambling and drink. +He had no conscience, and little fear. Brutality was the chief thing +written in his face. His undershot jaw, his wide eyes, low forehead and +grizzly mop of red hair proclaimed him at once as a man not to be +trusted beyond one's own vision or the reach of a bullet. It was +suspected that he had killed a couple of men, and robbed others, but as +yet the police had failed to get anything "on" him. But along with this +bad side of him, Sandy McTrigger possessed a coolness and a courage +which even his worst enemies could not but admire, and also certain +mental depths which his unpleasant features did not proclaim. + +Inside of six months Red Gold City had sprung up on the McFarlane, a +hundred and fifty miles from Fort Smith, and Fort Smith was five hundred +miles from civilization. When Sandy came he looked over the crude +collection of shacks, gambling houses and saloons in the new town, and +made up his mind that the time was not ripe for any of his "inside" +schemes just yet. He gambled a little, and won sufficient to buy himself +grub and half an outfit. A feature of this outfit was an old +muzzle-loading rifle. Sandy, who always carried the latest Savage on +the market, laughed at it. But it was the best his finances would allow +of. He started south--up the McFarlane. Beyond a certain point on the +river prospectors had found no gold. Sandy pushed confidently _beyond_ +this point. Not until he was in new country did he begin his search. +Slowly he worked his way up a small tributary whose headwaters were +fifty or sixty miles to the south and east. Here and there he found +fairly good placer gold. He might have panned six or eight dollars' +worth a day. With this much he was disgusted. Week after week he +continued to work his way up-stream, and the farther he went the poorer +his pans became. At last only occasionally did he find colors. After +such disgusting weeks as these Sandy was dangerous--when in the company +of others. Alone he was harmless. + +One afternoon he ran his canoe ashore on a white strip of sand. This was +at a bend, where the stream had widened, and gave promise of at least a +few colors. He had bent down close to the edge of the water when +something caught his attention on the wet sand. What he saw were the +footprints of animals. Two had come down to drink. They had stood side +by side. And the footprints were fresh--made not more than an hour or +two before. A gleam of interest shot into Sandy's eyes. He looked behind +him, and up and down the stream. + +"Wolves," he grunted. "Wish I could 'a' shot at 'em with that old +minute-gun back there. Gawd--listen to that! And in broad daylight, +too!" + +He jumped to his feet, staring off into the bush. + +A quarter of a mile away Gray Wolf had caught the dreaded scent of man +in the wind, and was giving voice to her warning. It was a long wailing +howl, and not until its last echoes had died away did Sandy McTrigger +move. Then he returned to the canoe, took out his old gun, put a fresh +cap on the nipple and disappeared quickly over the edge of the bank. + +For a week Kazan and Gray Wolf had been wandering about the headwaters +of the McFarlane and this was the first time since the preceding winter +that Gray Wolf had caught the scent of man in the air. When the wind +brought the danger-signal to her she was alone. Two or three minutes +before the scent came to her Kazan had left her side in swift pursuit of +a snow-shoe rabbit, and she lay flat on her belly under a bush, waiting +for him. In these moments when she was alone Gray Wolf was constantly +sniffing the air. Blindness had developed her scent and hearing until +they were next to infallible. First she had heard the rattle of Sandy +McTrigger's paddle against the side of his canoe a quarter of a mile +away. Scent had followed swiftly. Five minutes after her warning howl +Kazan stood at her side, his head flung up, his jaws open and panting. +Sandy had hunted Arctic foxes, and he was using the Eskimo tactics now, +swinging in a half-circle until he should come up in the face of the +wind. Kazan caught a single whiff of the man-tainted air and his spine +grew stiff. But blind Gray Wolf was keener than the little red-eyed fox +of the North. Her pointed nose slowly followed Sandy's progress. She +heard a dry stick crack under his feet three hundred yards away. She +caught the metallic click of his gun-barrel as it struck a birch +sapling. The moment she lost Sandy in the wind she whined and rubbed +herself against Kazan and trotted a few steps to the southwest. + +At times such as this Kazan seldom refused to take guidance from her. +They trotted away side by side and by the time Sandy was creeping up +snake-like with the wind in his face, Kazan was peering from the fringe +of river brush down upon the canoe on the white strip of sand. When +Sandy returned, after an hour of futile stalking, two fresh tracks led +straight down to the canoe. He looked at them in amazement and then a +sinister grin wrinkled his ugly face. He chuckled as he went to his kit +and dug out a small rubber bag. From this he drew a tightly corked +bottle, filled with gelatine capsules. In each little capsule were five +grains of strychnine. There were dark hints that once upon a time Sandy +McTrigger had tried one of these capsules by dropping it in a cup of +coffee and giving it to a man, but the police had never proved it. He +was expert in the use of poison. Probably he had killed a thousand foxes +in his time, and he chuckled again as he counted out a dozen of the +capsules and thought how easy it would be to get this inquisitive pair +of wolves. Two or three days before he had killed a caribou, and each of +the capsules he now rolled up in a little ball of deer fat, doing the +work with short sticks in place of his fingers, so that there would be +no man-smell clinging to the death-baits. Before sundown Sandy set out +at right-angles over the plain, planting the baits. Most of them he hung +to low bushes. Others he dropped in worn rabbit and caribou trails. Then +he returned to the creek and cooked his supper. + +Then next morning he was up early, and off to the poison baits. The +first bait was untouched. The second was as he had planted it. The third +was gone. A thrill shot through Sandy as he looked about him. Somewhere +within a radius of two or three hundred yards he would find his game. +Then his glance fell to the ground under the bush where he had hung the +poison capsule and an oath broke from his lips. The bait had not been +eaten. The caribou fat lay scattered under the bush and still imbedded +in the largest portion of it was the little white capsule--unbroken. It +was Sandy's first experience with a wild creature whose instincts were +sharpened by blindness, and he was puzzled. He had never known this to +happen before. If a fox or a wolf could be lured to the point of +touching a bait, it followed that the bait was eaten. Sandy went on to +the fourth and the fifth baits. They were untouched. The sixth was torn +to pieces, like the third. In this instance the capsule was broken and +the white powder scattered. Two more poison baits Sandy found pulled +down in this manner. He knew that Kazan and Gray Wolf had done the work, +for he found the marks of their feet in a dozen different places. The +accumulated bad humor of weeks of futile labor found vent in his +disappointment and anger. At last he had found something tangible to +curse. The failure of his poison baits he accepted as a sort of climax +to his general bad luck. Everything was against him, he believed, and he +made up his mind to return to Red Gold City. Early in the afternoon he +launched his canoe and drifted down-stream with the current. He was +content to let the current do all of the work to-day, and he used his +paddle just enough to keep his slender craft head on. He leaned back +comfortably and smoked his pipe, with the old rifle between his knees. +The wind was in his face and he kept a sharp watch for game. + +It was late in the afternoon when Kazan and Gray Wolf came out on a +sand-bar five or six miles down-stream. Kazan was lapping up the cool +water when Sandy drifted quietly around a bend a hundred yards above +them. If the wind had been right, or if Sandy had been using his paddle, +Gray Wolf would have detected danger. It was the metallic click-click of +the old-fashioned lock of Sandy's rifle that awakened her to a sense of +peril. Instantly she was thrilled by the nearness of it. Kazan heard the +sound and stopped drinking to face it. In that moment Sandy pressed the +trigger. A belch of smoke, a roar of gunpowder, and Kazan felt a red-hot +stream of fire pass with the swiftness of a lightning-flash through his +brain. He stumbled back, his legs gave way under him, and he crumpled +down in a limp heap. Gray Wolf darted like a streak off into the bush. +Blind, she had not seen Kazan wilt down upon the white sand. Not until +she was a quarter of a mile away from the terrifying thunder of the +white man's rifle did she stop and wait for him. + +Sandy McTrigger grounded his canoe on the sand-bar with an exultant +yell. + +"Got you, you old devil, didn't I?" he cried. "I'd 'a' got the other, +too, if I'd 'a' had something besides this damned old relic!" + +He turned Kazan's head over with the butt of his gun, and the leer of +satisfaction in his face gave place to a sudden look of amazement. For +the first time he saw the collar about Kazan's neck. + +"My Gawd, it ain't a wolf," he gasped. "It's a dog, Sandy McTrigger--_a +dog!"_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +SANDY'S METHOD + + +McTrigger dropped on his knees in the sand. The look of exultation was +gone from his face. He twisted the collar about the dog's limp neck +until he came to the worn plate, on which he could make out the faintly +engraved letters _K-a-z-a-n_. He spelled the letters out one by one, and +the look in his face was of one who still disbelieved what he had seen +and heard. + +"A dog!" he exclaimed again. "A dog, Sandy McTrigger an' a--a beauty!" + +He rose to his feet and looked down on his victim. A pool of blood lay +in the white sand at the end of Kazan's nose. After a moment Sandy bent +over to see where his bullet had struck. His inspection filled him with +a new and greater interest. The heavy ball from the muzzle-loader had +struck Kazan fairly on top of the head. It was a glancing blow that had +not even broken the skull, and like a flash Sandy understood the +quivering and twitching of Kazan's shoulders and legs. He had thought +that they were the last muscular throes of death. But Kazan was not +dying. He was only stunned, and would be on his feet again in a few +minutes. Sandy was a connoisseur of dogs--of dogs that had worn sledge +traces. He had lived among them two-thirds of his life. He could tell +their age, their value, and a part of their history at a glance. In the +snow he could tell the trail of a Mackenzie hound from that of a +Malemute, and the track of an Eskimo dog from that of a Yukon husky. He +looked at Kazan's feet. They were wolf feet, and he chuckled. Kazan was +part wild. He was big and powerful, and Sandy thought of the coming +winter, and of the high prices that dogs would bring at Red Gold City. +He went to the canoe and returned with a roll of stout moose-hide +babiche. Then he sat down cross-legged in front of Kazan and began +making a muzzle. He did this by plaiting babiche thongs in the same +manner that one does in making the web of a snow-shoe. In ten minutes he +had the muzzle over Kazan's nose and fastened securely about his neck. +To the dog's collar he then fastened a ten-foot rope of babiche. After +that he sat back and waited for Kazan to come to life. + +When Kazan first lifted his head he could not see. There was a red film +before his eyes. But this passed away swiftly and he saw the man. His +first instinct was to rise to his feet. Three times he fell back before +he could stand up. Sandy was squatted six feet from him, holding the end +of the babiche, and grinning. Kazan's fangs gleamed back. He growled, +and the crest along his spine rose menacingly. Sandy jumped to his feet. + +"Guess I know what you're figgering on," he said. "I've had _your_ kind +before. The dam' wolves have turned you bad, an' you'll need a whole lot +of club before you're right again. Now, look here." + +Sandy had taken the precaution of bringing a thick club along with the +babiche. He picked it up from where he had dropped it in the sand. +Kazan's strength had fairly returned to him now. He was no longer dizzy. +The mist had cleared away from his eyes. Before him he saw once more his +old enemy, man--man and the club. All of the wild ferocity of his +nature was roused in an instant. Without reasoning he knew that Gray +Wolf was gone, and that this man was accountable for her going. He knew +that this man had also brought him his own hurt, and what he ascribed to +the man he also attributed to the club. In his newer undertaking of +things, born of freedom and Gray Wolf, Man and Club were one and +inseparable. With a snarl he leaped at Sandy. The man was not expecting +a direct assault, and before he could raise his club or spring aside +Kazan had landed full on his chest. The muzzle about Kazan's jaws saved +him. Fangs that would have torn his throat open snapped harmlessly. +Under the weight of the dog's body he fell back, as if struck down by a +catapult. + +As quick as a cat he was on his feet again, with the end of the babiche +twisted several times about his hand. Kazan leaped again, and this time +he was met by a furious swing of the club. It smashed against his +shoulder, and sent him down in the sand. Before he could recover Sandy +was upon him, with all the fury of a man gone mad. He shortened the +babiche by twisting it again and again about his hand, and the club rose +and fell with the skill and strength of one long accustomed to its use. +The first blows served only to add to Kazan's hatred of man, and the +ferocity and fearlessness of his attacks. Again and again he leaped in, +and each time the club fell upon him with a force that threatened to +break his bones. There was a tense hard look about Sandy's cruel mouth. +He had never known a dog like this before, and he was a bit nervous, +even with Kazan muzzled. Three times Kazan's fangs would have sunk deep +in his flesh had it not been for the babiche. And if the thongs about +his jaws should slip, or break--. + +Sandy followed up the thought with a smashing blow that landed on +Kazan's head, and once more the old battler fell limp upon the sand. +McTrigger's breath was coming in quick gasps. He was almost winded. Not +until the club slipped from his hand did he realize how desperate the +fight had been. Before Kazan recovered from the blow that had stunned +him Sandy examined the muzzle and strengthened it by adding another +babiche thong. Then he dragged Kazan to a log that high water had +thrown up on the shore a few yards away and made the end of the babiche +rope fast to a dead snag. After that he pulled his canoe higher up on +the sand, and began to prepare camp for the night. + +For some minutes after Kazan's stunned senses had become normal he lay +motionless, watching Sandy McTrigger. Every bone in his body gave him +pain. His jaws were sore and bleeding. His upper lip was smashed where +the club had fallen. One eye was almost closed. Several times Sandy came +near, much pleased at what he regarded as the good results of the +beating. Each time he brought the club. The third time he prodded Kazan +with it, and the dog snarled and snapped savagely at the end of it. That +was what Sandy wanted--it was an old trick of the dog-slaver. Instantly +he was using the club again, until with a whining cry Kazan slunk under +the protection of the snag to which he was fastened. He could scarcely +drag himself. His right forepaw was smashed. His hindquarters sank under +him. For a time after this second beating he could not have escaped had +he been free. + +Sandy was in unusually good humor. + +"I'll take the devil out of you all right," he told Kazan for the +twentieth time. "There's nothin' like beatin's to make dogs an' wimmin +live up to the mark. A month from now you'll be worth two hundred +dollars or I'll skin you alive!" + +Three or four times before dusk Sandy worked to rouse Kazan's animosity. +But there was no longer any desire left in Kazan to fight. His two +terrific beatings, and the crushing blow of the bullet against his +skull, had made him sick. He lay with his head between his forepaws, his +eyes closed, and did not see McTrigger. He paid no attention to the meat +that was thrown under his nose. He did not know when the last of the sun +sank behind the western forests, or when the darkness came. But at last +something roused him from his stupor. To his dazed and sickened brain it +came like a call from out of the far past, and he raised his head and +listened. Out on the sand McTrigger had built a fire, and the man stood +in the red glow of it now, facing the dark shadows beyond the shoreline. +He, too, was listening. What had roused Kazan came again now--the lost +mourning cry of Gray Wolf far out on the plain. + +With a whine Kazan was on his feet, tugging at the babiche. Sandy +snatched up his club, and leaped toward him. + +"Down, you brute!" he commanded. + +In the firelight the club rose and fell with ferocious quickness. When +McTrigger returned to the fire he was breathing hard again. He tossed +his club beside the blankets he had spread out for a bed. It was a +different looking club now. It was covered with blood and hair. + +"Guess that'll take the spirit out of him," he chuckled. "It'll do +that--or kill 'im!" + +Several times that night Kazan heard Gray Wolf's call. He whined softly +in response, fearing the club. He watched the fire until the last embers +of it died out, and then cautiously dragged himself from under the snag. +Two or three times he tried to stand on his feet, but fell back each +time. His legs were not broken, but the pain of standing on them was +excruciating. He was hot and feverish. All that night he had craved a +drink of water. When Sandy crawled out from between his blankets in the +early dawn he gave him both meat and water. Kazan drank the water, but +would not touch the meat. Sandy regarded the change in him with +satisfaction. By the time the sun was up he had finished his breakfast +and was ready to leave. He approached Kazan fearlessly now, without the +club. Untying the babiche he dragged the dog to the canoe. Kazan slunk +in the sand while his captor fastened the end of the hide rope to the +stern of the canoe. Sandy grinned. What was about to happen would be fun +for him. In the Yukon he had learned how to take the spirit out of dogs. + +He pushed off, bow foremost. Bracing himself with his paddle he then +began to pull Kazan toward the water. In a few moments Kazan stood with +his forefeet planted in the damp sand at the edge of the stream. For a +brief interval Sandy allowed the babiche to fall slack. Then with a +sudden powerful pull he jerked Kazan out into the water. Instantly he +sent the canoe into midstream, swung it quickly down with the current, +and began to paddle enough to keep the babiche taut about his victim's +neck. In spite of his sickness and injuries Kazan was now compelled to +swim to keep his head above water. In the wash of the canoe, and with +Sandy's strokes growing steadily stronger, his position became each +moment one of increasing torture. At times his shaggy head was pulled +completely under water. At others Sandy would wait until he had drifted +alongside, and then thrust him under with the end of his paddle. He grew +weaker. At the end of a half-mile he was drowning. Not until then did +Sandy pull him alongside and drag him into the canoe. The dog fell limp +and gasping in the bottom. Brutal though Sandy's methods had been, they +had worked his purpose. In Kazan there was no longer a desire to fight. +He no longer struggled for freedom. He knew that this man was his +master, and for the time his spirit was gone. All he desired now was to +be allowed to lie in the bottom of the canoe, out of reach of the club, +and safe from the water. The club lay between him and the man. The end +of it was within a foot or two of his nose, and what he smelled was his +own blood. + +For five days and five nights the journey down-stream continued, and +McTrigger's process of civilizing Kazan was continued in three more +beatings with the club, and another resort to the water torture. On the +morning of the sixth day they reached Red Gold City, and McTrigger put +up his tent close to the river. Somewhere he obtained a chain for Kazan, +and after fastening the dog securely back of the tent he cut off the +babiche muzzle. + +"You can't put on meat in a muzzle," he told his prisoner. "An' I want +you to git strong--an' fierce as hell. I've got an idee. It's an idee +you can lick your weight in wildcats. We'll pull off a stunt pretty soon +that'll fill our pockets with dust. I've done it afore, and we can do it +_here_. Wolf an' dog--s'elp me Gawd but it'll be a drawin' card!" + +Twice a day after this he brought fresh raw meat to Kazan. Quickly +Kazan's spirit and courage returned to him. The soreness left his limbs. +His battered jaws healed. And after the fourth day each time that Sandy +came with meat he greeted him with the challenge of his snarling fangs. +McTrigger did not beat him now. He gave him no fish, no tallow and +meal--nothing but raw meat. He traveled five miles up the river to bring +in the fresh entrail of a caribou that had been killed. One day Sandy +brought another man with him and when the stranger came a step too near +Kazan made a sudden swift lunge at him. The man jumped back with a +startled oath. + +"He'll do," he growled. "He's lighter by ten or fifteen pounds than the +Dane, but he's got the teeth, an' the quickness, an' he'll give a good +show before he goes under." + +"I'll make you a bet of twenty-five per cent. of my share that he don't +go under," offered Sandy. + +"Done!" said the other. "How long before he'll be ready?" + +Sandy thought a moment. + +"Another week," he said. "He won't have his weight before then. A week +from to-day, we'll say. Next Tuesday night. Does that suit you, Harker?" + +Harker nodded. + +"Next Tuesday night," he agreed. Then he added, "I'll make it a _half_ +of my share that the Dane kills your wolf-dog." + +Sandy took a long look at Kazan. + +"I'll just take you on that," he said. Then, as he shook Harker's hand, +"I don't believe there's a dog between here and the Yukon that can kill +the wolf!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +PROFESSOR McGILL + + +Red Gold City was ripe for a night of relaxation. There had been some +gambling, a few fights and enough liquor to create excitement now and +then, but the presence of the mounted police had served to keep things +unusually tame compared with events a few hundred miles farther north, +in the Dawson country. The entertainment proposed by Sandy McTrigger and +Jan Harker met with excited favor. The news spread for twenty miles +about Red Gold City and there had never been greater excitement in the +town than on the afternoon and night of the big fight. This was largely +because Kazan and the huge Dane had been placed on exhibition, each dog +in a specially made cage of his own, and a fever of betting began. Three +hundred men, each of whom was paying five dollars to see the battle, +viewed the gladiators through the bars of their cages. Harker's dog was +a combination of Great Dane and mastiff, born in the North, and bred to +the traces. Betting favored him by the odds of two to one. Occasionally +it ran three to one. At these odds there was plenty of Kazan money. +Those who were risking their money on him were the older wilderness +men--men who had spent their lives among dogs, and who knew what the red +glint in Kazan's eyes meant. An old Kootenay miner spoke low in +another's ear: + +"I'd bet on 'im even. I'd give odds if I had to. He'll fight all around +the Dane. The Dane won't have no method." + +"But he's got the weight," said the other dubiously. "Look at his jaws, +an' his shoulders--" + +"An' his big feet, an' his soft throat, an' the clumsy thickness of his +belly," interrupted the Kootenay man. "For Gawd's sake, man, take my +word for it, an' don't put your money on the Dane!" + +Others thrust themselves between them. At first Kazan had snarled at all +these faces about him. But now he lay back against the boarded side of +the cage and eyed them sullenly from between his forepaws. + +The fight was to be pulled off in Barker's place, a combination of +saloon and cafe. The benches and tables had been cleared out and in the +center of the one big room a cage ten feet square rested on a platform +three and a half feet from the floor. Seats for the three hundred +spectators were drawn closely around this. Suspended just above the open +top of the cage were two big oil lamps with glass reflectors. + +It was eight o'clock when Harker, McTrigger and two other men bore Kazan +to the arena by means of the wooden bars that projected from the bottom +of his cage. The big Dane was already in the fighting cage. He stood +blinking his eyes in the brilliant light of the reflecting lamps. He +pricked up his ears when he saw Kazan. Kazan did not show his fangs. +Neither revealed the expected animosity. It was the first they had seen +of each other, and a murmur of disappointment swept the ranks of the +three hundred men. The Dane remained as motionless as a rock when Kazan +was prodded from his own cage into the fighting cage. He did not leap or +snarl. He regarded Kazan with a dubious questioning poise to his +splendid head, and then looked again to the expectant and excited faces +of the waiting men. For a few moments Kazan stood stiff-legged, facing +the Dane. Then his shoulders dropped, and he, too, coolly faced the +crowd that had expected a fight to the death. A laugh of derision swept +through the closely seated rows. Catcalls, jeering taunts flung at +McTrigger and Harker, and angry voices demanding their money back +mingled with a tumult of growing discontent. Sandy's face was red with +mortification and rage. The blue veins in Barker's forehead had swollen +twice their normal size. He shook his fist in the face of the crowd, and +shouted: + +"Wait! Give 'em a chance, you dam' fools!" + +At his words every voice was stilled. Kazan had turned. He was facing +the huge Dane. And the Dane had turned his eyes to Kazan. Cautiously, +prepared for a lunge or a sidestep, Kazan advanced a little. The Dane's +shoulders bristled. He, too, advanced upon Kazan. Four feet apart they +stood rigid. One could have heard a whisper in the room now. Sandy and +Harker, standing close to the cage, scarcely breathed. Splendid in every +limb and muscle, warriors of a hundred fights, and fearless to the point +of death, the two half-wolf victims of man stood facing each other. None +could see the questioning look in their brute eyes. None knew that in +this thrilling moment the unseen hand of the wonderful Spirit God of the +wilderness hovered between them, and that one of its miracles was +descending upon them. It was _understanding_. Meeting in the +open--rivals in the traces--they would have been rolling in the throes +of terrific battle. But _here_ came that mute appeal of brotherhood. In +the final moment, when only a step separated them, and when men expected +to see the first mad lunge, the splendid Dane slowly raised his head and +looked over Kazan's back through the glare of the lights. Harker +trembled, and under his breath he cursed. The Dane's throat was open to +Kazan. But between the beasts had passed the voiceless pledge of peace. +Kazan did not leap. He turned. And shoulder to shoulder--splendid in +their contempt of man--they stood and looked through the bars of their +prison into the one of human faces. + +A roar burst from the crowd--a roar of anger, of demand, of threat. In +his rage Harker drew a revolver and leveled it at the Dane. Above the +tumult of the crowd a single voice stopped him. + +"Hold!" it demanded. "Hold--in the name of the law!" + +For a moment there was silence. Every face turned in the direction of +the voice. Two men stood on chairs behind the last row. One was Sergeant +Brokaw, of the Royal Northwest Mounted. It was he who had spoken. He was +holding up a hand, commanding silence and attention. On the chair beside +him stood another man. He was thin, with drooping shoulders, and a pale +smooth face--a little man, whose physique and hollow cheeks told nothing +of the years he had spent close up along the raw edge of the Arctic. It +was he who spoke now, while the sergeant held up his hand. His voice was +low and quiet: + +"I'll give the owners five hundred dollars for those dogs," he said. + +Every man in the room heard the offer. Harker looked at Sandy. For an +instant their heads were close together. + +"They won't fight, and they'll make good team-mates," the little man +went on. "I'll give the owners five hundred dollars." + +Harker raised a hand. + +"Make it six," he said. "Make it six and they're yours." + +The little man hesitated. Then he nodded. + +"I'll give you six hundred," he agreed. + +Murmurs of discontent rose throughout the crowd. Harker climbed to the +edge of the platform. + +"We ain't to blame because they wouldn't fight," he shouted, "but if +there's any of you small enough to want your money back you can git it +as you go out. The dogs laid down on us, that's all. We ain't to blame." + +The little man was edging his way between the chairs, accompanied by the +sergeant of police. With his pale face close to the sapling bars of the +cage he looked at Kazan and the big Dane. + +"I guess we'll be good friends," he said, and he spoke so low that only +the dogs heard his voice. "It's a big price, but we'll charge it to the +Smithsonian, lads. I'm going to need a couple of four-footed friends of +your moral caliber." + +And no one knew why Kazan and the Dane drew nearer to the little +scientist's side of the cage as he pulled out a big roll of bills and +counted out six hundred dollars for Harker and Sandy McTrigger. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ALONE IN DARKNESS + + +Never had the terror and loneliness of blindness fallen upon Gray Wolf +as in the days that followed the shooting of Kazan and his capture by +Sandy McTrigger. For hours after the shot she crouched in the bush back +from the river, waiting for him to come to her. She had faith that he +would come, as he had come a thousand times before, and she lay close on +her belly, sniffing the air, and whining when it brought no scent of her +mate. Day and night were alike an endless chaos of darkness to her now, +but she knew when the sun went down. She sensed the first deepening +shadows of evening, and she knew that the stars were out, and that the +river lay in moonlight. It was a night to roam, and after a time she +moved restlessly about in a small circle on the plain, and sent out her +first inquiring call for Kazan. Up from the river came the pungent odor +of smoke, and instinctively she knew that it was this smoke, and the +nearness of man, that was keeping Kazan from her. But she went no nearer +than that first circle made by her padded feet. Blindness had taught her +to wait. Since the day of the battle on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had +destroyed her eyes, Kazan had never failed her. Three times she called +for him in the early night. Then she made herself a nest under a +_banskian_ shrub, and waited until dawn. + +Just how she knew when night blotted out the last glow of the sun, so +without seeing she knew when day came. Not until she felt the warmth of +the sun on her back did her anxiety overcome her caution. Slowly she +moved toward the river, sniffing the air and whining. There was no +longer the smell of smoke in the air, and she could not catch the scent +of man. She followed her own trail back to the sand-bar, and in the +fringe of thick bush overhanging the white shore of the stream she +stopped and listened. After a little she scrambled down and went +straight to the spot where she and Kazan were drinking when the shot +came. And there her nose struck the sand still wet and thick with +Kazan's blood. She knew it was the blood of her mate, for the scent of +him was all about her in the sand, mingled with the man-smell of Sandy +McTrigger. She sniffed the trail of his body to the edge of the stream, +where Sandy had dragged him to the canoe. She found the fallen tree to +which he had been tied. And then she came upon one of the two clubs that +Sandy had used to beat wounded Kazan into submissiveness. It was covered +with blood and hair, and all at once Gray Wolf lay back on her haunches +and turned her blind face to the sky, and there rose from her throat a +cry for Kazan that drifted for miles on the wings of the south wind. +Never had Gray Wolf given quite that cry before. It was not the "call" +that comes with the moonlit nights, and neither was it the hunt-cry, nor +the she-wolf's yearning for matehood. It carried with it the lament of +death. And after that one cry Gray Wolf slunk back to the fringe of bush +over the river, and lay with her face turned to the stream. + +A strange terror fell upon her. She had grown accustomed to darkness, +but never before had she been _alone_ in that darkness. Always there +had been the guardianship of Kazan's presence. She heard the clucking +sound of a spruce hen in the bush a few yards away, and now that sound +came to her as if from out of another world. A ground-mouse rustled +through the grass close to her forepaws, and she snapped at it, and +closed her teeth on a rock. The muscles of her shoulders twitched +tremulously and she shivered as if stricken by intense cold. She was +terrified by the darkness that shut out the world from her, and she +pawed at her closed eyes, as if she might open them to light. Early in +the afternoon she wandered back on the plain. It was different. It +frightened her, and soon she returned to the beach, and snuggled down +under the tree where Kazan had lain. She was not so frightened here. The +smell of Kazan was strong about her. For an hour she lay motionless, +with her head resting on the club clotted with his hair and blood. Night +found her still there. And when the moon and the stars came out she +crawled back into the pit in the white sand that Kazan's body had made +under the tree. + +With dawn she went down to the edge of the stream to drink. She could +not see that the day was almost as dark as night, and that the +gray-black sky was a chaos of slumbering storm. But she could smell the +presence of it in the thick air, and could _feel_ the forked flashes of +lightning that rolled up with the dense pall from the south and west. +The distant rumbling of thunder grew louder, and she huddled herself +again under the tree. For hours the storm crashed over her, and the rain +fell in a deluge. When it had finished she slunk out from her shelter +like a thing beaten. Vainly she sought for one last scent of Kazan. The +club was washed clean. Again the sand was white where Kazan's blood had +reddened it. Even under the tree there was no sign of him left. + +Until now only the terror of being alone in the pit of darkness that +enveloped her had oppressed Gray Wolf. With afternoon came hunger. It +was this hunger that drew her from the sand-bar, and she wandered back +into the plain. A dozen times she scented game, and each time it evaded +her. Even a ground-mouse that she cornered under a root, and dug out +with her paws, escaped her fangs. + +Thirty-six hours before this Kazan and Gray Wolf had left a half of +their last kill a mile of two farther back on the plain. The kill was +one of the big barren rabbits, and Gray Wolf turned in its direction. +She did not require sight to find it. In her was developed to its finest +point that sixth sense of the animal kingdom, the sense of orientation, +and as straight as a pigeon might have winged its flight she cut through +the bush to the spot where they had cached the rabbit. A white fox had +been there ahead of her, and she found only scattered bits of hair and +fur. What the fox had left the moose-birds and bush-jays had carried +away. Hungrily Gray Wolf turned back to the river. + +That night she slept again where Kazan had lain, and three times she +called for him without answer. A heavy dew fell, and it drenched the +last vestige of her mate's scent out of the sand. But still through the +day that followed, and the day that followed that, blind Gray Wolf clung +to the narrow rim of white sand. On the fourth day her hunger reached a +point where she gnawed the bark from willow bushes. It was on this day +that she made a discovery. She was drinking, when her sensitive nose +touched something in the water's edge that was smooth, and bore a faint +odor of flesh. It was one of the big northern river clams. She pawed it +ashore, sniffing at the hard shell. Then she crunched it between her +teeth. She had never tasted sweeter meat than that which she found +inside, and she began hunting for other clams. She found many of them, +and ate until she was no longer hungry. For three days more she remained +on the bar. + +And then, one night, the call came to her. It set her quivering with a +strange new excitement--something that may have been a new hope, and in +the moonlight she trotted nervously up and down the shining strip of +sand, facing now the north, and now the south, and then the east and the +west--her head flung up, listening, as if in the soft wind of the night +she was trying to locate the whispering lure of a wonderful voice. And +whatever it was that came to her came from out of the south and east. +Off there--across the barren, far beyond the outer edge of the northern +timber-line--was _home_. And off there, in her brute way, she reasoned +that she must find Kazan. The call did not come from their old windfall +home in the swamp. It came from beyond that, and in a flashing vision +there rose through her blindness a picture of the towering Sun Rock, of +the winding trail that led to it, and the cabin on the plain. It was +there that blindness had come to her. It was there that day had ended, +and eternal night had begun. And it was there that she had mothered her +first-born. Nature had registered these things so that they could never +be wiped out of her memory, and when the call came it was from the +sunlit world where she had last known light and life and had last seen +the moon and the stars in the blue night of the skies. + +And to that call she responded, leaving the river and its food behind +her--straight out into the face of darkness and starvation, no longer +fearing death or the emptiness of the world she could not see; for ahead +of her, two hundred miles away, she could see the Sun Rock, the winding +trail, the nest of her first-born between the two big rocks--_and +Kazan_! + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + +Sixty miles farther north Kazan lay at the end of his fine steel chain, +watching little Professor McGill mixing a pail of tallow and bran. A +dozen yards from him lay the big Dane, his huge jaws drooling in +anticipation of the unusual feast which McGill was preparing. He showed +signs of pleasure when McGill approached him with a quart of the +mixture, and he gulped it between his huge jaws. The little man with the +cold blue eyes and the gray-blond hair stroked his back without fear. +His attitude was different when he turned to Kazan. His movements were +filled with caution, and yet his eyes and his lips were smiling, and he +gave the wolf-dog no evidence of his fear, if it could be called fear. + +The little professor, who was up in the north country for the +Smithsonian Institution, had spent a third of his life among dogs. He +loved them, and understood them. He had written a number of magazine +articles on dog intellect that had attracted wide attention among +naturalists. It was largely because he loved dogs, and understood them +more than most men, that he had bought Kazan and the big Dane on the +night when Sandy McTrigger and his partner had tried to get them to +fight to the death in the Red Gold City saloon. The refusal of the two +splendid beasts to kill each other for the pleasure of the three hundred +men who had assembled to witness the fight delighted him. He had already +planned a paper on the incident. Sandy had told him the story of Kazan's +capture, and of his wild mate, Gray Wolf, and the professor had asked +him a thousand questions. But each day Kazan puzzled him more. No amount +of kindness on his part could bring a responsive gleam in Kazan's eyes. +Not once did Kazan signify a willingness to become friends. And yet he +did not snarl at McGill, or snap at his hands when they came within +reach. Quite frequently Sandy McTrigger came over to the little cabin +where McGill was staying, and three times Kazan leaped at the end of +his chain to get at him, and his white fangs gleamed as long as Sandy +was in sight. Alone with McGill he became quiet. Something told him that +McGill had come as a friend that night when he and the big Dane stood +shoulder to shoulder in the cage that had been built for a slaughter +pen. Away down in his brute heart he held McGill apart from other men. +He had no desire to harm him. He tolerated him, but showed none of the +growing affection of the huge Dane. It was this fact that puzzled +McGill. He had never before known a dog that he could not make love him. + +To-day he placed the tallow and bran before Kazan, and the smile in his +face gave way to a look of perplexity. Kazan's lips had drawn suddenly +back. A fierce snarl rolled deep in his throat. The hair along his spine +stood up. His muscles twitched. Instinctively the professor turned. +Sandy McTrigger had come up quietly behind him. His brutal face wore a +grin as he looked at Kazan. + +"It's a fool job--tryin' to make friends with _him_" he said. Then he +added, with a sudden interested gleam in his eyes, "When you startin'?" + +"With first frost," replied McGill. "It ought to come soon. I'm going to +join Sergeant Conroy and his party at Fond du Lac by the first of +October." + +"And you're going up to Fond du Lac--alone?" queried Sandy. "Why don't +you take a man?" + +The little professor laughed softly. + +"Why?" he asked. "I've been through the Athabasca waterways a dozen +times, and know the trail as well as I know Broadway. Besides, I like to +be alone. And the work isn't too hard, with the currents all flowing to +the north and east." + +Sandy was looking at the Dane, with his back to McGill. An exultant +gleam shot for an instant into his eyes. + +"You're taking the dogs?" + +"Yes." + +Sandy lighted his pipe, and spoke like one strangely curious. + +"Must cost a heap to take these trips o' yourn, don't it?" + +"My last cost about seven thousand dollars. This will cost five," said +McGill. + +"Gawd!" breathed Sandy. "An' you carry all that along with you! Ain't +you afraid--something might happen--?" + +The little professor was looking the other way now. The carelessness in +his face and manner changed. His blue eyes grew a shade darker. A hard +smile which Sandy did not see hovered about his lips for an instant. +Then he turned, laughing. + +"I'm a very light sleeper," he said. "A footstep at night rouses me. +Even a man's breathing awakes me, when I make up my mind that I must be +on my guard. And, besides"--he drew from his pocket a blue-steeled +Savage automatic--"I know how to use _this_." He pointed to a knot in +the wall of the cabin. "Observe," he said. Five times he fired at twenty +paces, and when Sandy went up to look at the knot he gave a gasp. There +was one jagged hole where the knot had been. + +"Pretty good," he grinned. "Most men couldn't do better'n that with a +rifle." + +When Sandy left, McGill followed him with a suspicious gleam in his +eyes, and a curious smile on his lips. Then he turned to Kazan. + +"Guess you've got him figgered out about right, old man," he laughed +softly. "I don't blame you very much for wanting to get him by the +throat. Perhaps--" + +He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and went into the cabin. Kazan +dropped his head between his forepaws, and lay still, with wide-open +eyes. It was late afternoon, early in September, and each night brought +now the first chill breaths of autumn. Kazan watched the last glow of +the sun as it faded out of the southern skies. Darkness always followed +swiftly after that, and with darkness came more fiercely his wild +longing for freedom. Night after night he had gnawed at his steel chain. +Night after night he had watched the stars, and the moon, and had +listened for Gray Wolf's call, while the big Dane lay sleeping. To-night +it was colder than usual, and the keen tang of the wind that came fresh +from the west stirred him strangely. It set his blood afire with what +the Indians call the Frost Hunger. Lethargic summer was gone and the +days and nights of hunting were at hand. He wanted to leap out into +freedom and run until he was exhausted, with Gray Wolf at his side. He +knew that Gray Wolf was off there--where the stars hung low in the clear +sky, and that she was waiting. He strained at the end of his chain, and +whined. All that night he was restless--more restless than he had been +at any time before. Once, in the far distance, he heard a cry that he +thought was the cry of Gray Wolf, and his answer roused McGill from deep +sleep. It was dawn, and the little professor dressed himself and came +out of the cabin. With satisfaction he noted the exhilarating snap in +the air. He wet his fingers and held them above his head, chuckling when +he found the wind had swung into the north. He went to Kazan, and talked +to him. Among other things he said, "This'll put the black flies to +sleep, Kazan. A day or two more of it and we'll start." + +Five days later McGill led first the Dane, and then Kazan, to a packed +canoe. Sandy McTrigger saw them off, and Kazan watched for a chance to +leap at him. Sandy kept his distance, and McGill watched the two with a +thought that set the blood running swiftly behind the mask of his +careless smile. They had slipped a mile down-stream when he leaned over +and laid a fearless hand on Kazan's head. Something in the touch of that +hand, and in the professor's voice, kept Kazan from a desire to snap at +him. He tolerated the friendship with expressionless eyes and a +motionless body. + +"I was beginning to fear I wouldn't have much sleep, old boy," chuckled +McGill ambiguously, "but I guess I can take a nap now and then with +_you_ along!" + +He made camp that night fifteen miles up the lake shore. The big Dane he +fastened to a sapling twenty yards from his small silk tent, but Kazan's +chain he made fast to the butt of a stunted birch that held down the +tent-flap. Before he went into the tent for the night McGill pulled out +his automatic and examined it with care. + +For three days the journey continued without a mishap along the shore of +Lake Athabasca. On the fourth night McGill pitched his tent in a clump +of _banskian_ pine a hundred yards back from the water. All that day the +wind had come steadily from behind them, and for at least a half of the +day the professor had been watching Kazan closely. From the west there +had now and then come a scent that stirred him uneasily. Since noon he +had sniffed that wind. Twice McGill had heard him growling deep in his +throat, and once, when the scent had come stronger than usual, he had +bared his fangs, and the bristles stood up along his spine. For an hour +after striking camp the little professor did not build a fire, but sat +looking up the shore of the lake through his hunting glass. It was dusk +when he returned to where he had put up his tent and chained the dogs. +For a few moments he stood unobserved, looking at the wolf-dog. Kazan +was still uneasy. He lay _facing_ the west. McGill made note of this, +for the big Dane lay behind Kazan--to the east. Under ordinary +conditions Kazan would have faced him. He was sure now that there was +something in the west wind. A little shiver ran up his back as he +thought of what it might be. + +Behind a rock he built a very small fire, and prepared supper. After +this he went into the tent, and when he came out he carried a blanket +under his arm. He chuckled as he stood for a moment over Kazan. + +"We're not going to sleep in there to-night, old hoy," he said. "I don't +like what you've found in the west wind. It may he a--_thunder-storm!_" +He laughed at his joke, and buried himself in a clump of stunted +_banskians_ thirty paces from the tent. Here he rolled himself in his +blanket, and went to sleep. + +It was a quiet starlit night, and hours afterward Kazan dropped his nose +between his forepaws and drowsed. It was the snap of a twig that roused +him. The sound did not awaken the sluggish Dane but instantly Kazan's +head was alert, his keen nostrils sniffing the air. What he had smelled +all day was heavy about him now. He lay still and quivering. Slowly, +from out of the _banskians_ behind the tent, there came a figure. It was +not the little professor. It approached cautiously, with lowered head +and hunched shoulders, and the starlight revealed the murderous face of +Sandy McTrigger. Kazan crouched low. He laid his head flat between his +forepaws. His long fangs gleamed. But he made no sound that betrayed his +concealment under a thick _banskian_ shrub. Step by step Sandy +approached, and at last he reached the flap of the tent. He did not +carry a club or a whip in his hand now. In the place of either of those +was the glitter of steel. At the door to the tent he paused, and peered +in, his back to Kazan. + +Silently, swiftly--the wolf now in every movement, Kazan came to his +feet. He forgot the chain that held him. Ten feet away stood the enemy +he hated above all others he had ever known. Every ounce of strength in +his splendid body gathered itself for the spring. And then he leaped. +This time the chain did not pull him back, almost neck-broken. Age and +the elements had weakened the leather collar he had worn since the days +of his slavery in the traces, and it gave way with a snap. Sandy turned, +and in a second leap Kazan's fangs sank into the flesh of his arm. With +a startled cry the man fell, and as they rolled over on the ground the +big Dane's deep voice rolled out in thunderous alarm as he tugged at his +leash. In the fall Kazan's hold was broken. In an instant he was on his +feet, ready for another attack. And then the change came. He was +_free_. The collar was gone from his neck. The forest, the stars, the +whispering wind were all about him. _Here_ were men, and off there +was--Gray Wolf! His ears dropped, and he turned swiftly, and slipped +like a shadow back into the glorious freedom of his world. + +A hundred yards away something stopped him for an instant. It was not +the big Dane's voice, but the sharp _crack--crack--crack_, of the little +professor's automatic. And above that sound there rose the voice of +Sandy McTrigger in a weird and terrible cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AN EMPTY WORLD + + +Mile after mile Kazan went on. For a time he was oppressed by the +shivering note of death that had come to him in Sandy McTrigger's cry, +and he slipped through the _banskians_ like a shadow, his ears +flattened, his tail trailing, his hindquarters betraying that curious +slinking quality of the wolf and dog stealing away from danger. Then he +came out upon a plain, and the stillness, the billion stars in the clear +vault of the sky, and the keen air that carried with it a breath of the +Arctic barrens made him alert and questioning. He faced the direction of +the wind. Somewhere off there, far to the south and west, was Gray Wolf. +For the first time in many weeks he sat back on his haunches and gave +the deep and vibrant call that echoed weirdly for miles about him. Back +in the _banskians_ the big Dane heard it, and whined. From over the +still body of Sandy McTrigger the little professor looked up with a +white tense face, and listened for a second cry. But instinct told Kazan +that to that first call there would be no answer, and now he struck out +swiftly, galloping mile after mile, as a dog follows the trail of its +master home. He did not turn hack to the lake, nor was his direction +toward Red Gold City. As straight as he might have followed a road +blazed by the hand of man he cut across the forty miles of plain and +swamp and forest and rocky ridge that lay between him and the McFarlane. +All that night he did not call again for Gray Wolf. With him reasoning +was a process brought about by habit--by precedent--and as Gray Wolf had +waited for him many times before he knew that she would be waiting for +him now near the sand-bar. + +By dawn he had reached the river, within three miles of the sand-bar. +Scarcely was the sun up when he stood on the white strip of sand where +he and Gray Wolf had come down to drink. Expectantly and confidently he +looked about him for Gray Wolf, whining softly, and wagging his tail. He +began to search for her scent, but rains had washed even her footprints +from the clean sand. All that day he searched for her along the river +and out on the plain. He went to where they had killed their last +rabbit. He sniffed at the bushes where the poison baits had hung. Again +and again he sat back on his haunches and sent out his mating cry to +her. And slowly, as he did these things, nature was working in him that +miracle of the wild which the Crees have named the "spirit call." As it +had worked in Gray Wolf, so now it stirred the blood of Kazan. With the +going of the sun, and the sweeping about him of shadowy night, he turned +more and more to the south and east. His whole world was made up of the +trails over which he had hunted. Beyond those places he did not know +that there was such a thing as existence. And in that world, small in +his understanding of things, was Gray Wolf. He could not miss her. That +world, in his comprehension of it, ran from the McFarlane in a narrow +trail through the forests and over the plains to the little valley from +which the beavers had driven them. If Gray Wolf was not here--she was +there, and tirelessly he resumed his quest of her. + +Not until the stars were fading out of the sky again, and gray day was +giving place to night, did exhaustion and hunger stop him. He killed a +rabbit, and for hours after he had feasted he lay close to his kill, and +slept. Then he went on. + +The fourth night he came to the little valley between the two ridges, +and under the stars, more brilliant now in the chill clearness of the +early autumn nights, he followed the creek down into their old swamp +home. It was broad day when he reached the edge of the great beaver pond +that now completely surrounded the windfall under which Gray-Wolf's +second-born had come into the world. Broken Tooth and the other beavers +had wrought a big change in what had once been his home and Gray Wolf's, +and for many minutes Kazan stood silent and motionless at the edge of +the pond, sniffing the air heavy with the unpleasant odor of the +usurpers. Until now his spirit had remained unbroken. Footsore, with +thinned sides and gaunt head, he circled slowly through the swamp. All +that day he searched. And his crest lay flat now, and there was a hunted +look in the droop of his shoulders and in the shifting look of his +eyes. Gray Wolf was gone. + +Slowly nature was impinging that fact upon him. She had passed out of +his world and out of his life, and he was filled with a loneliness and a +grief so great that the forest seemed strange, and the stillness of the +wild a thing that now oppressed and frightened him. Once more the dog in +him was mastering the wolf. With Gray Wolf he had possessed the world of +freedom. Without her, that world was so big and strange and empty that +it appalled him. Late in the afternoon he came upon a little pile of +crushed clamshells on the shore of the stream. He sniffed at +them--turned away--went back, and sniffed again. It was where Gray Wolf +had made a last feast in the swamp before continuing south. But the +scent she had left behind was not strong enough to tell Kazan, and for a +second time he turned away. That night he slunk under a log, and cried +himself to sleep. Deep in the night he grieved in his uneasy slumber, +like a child. And day after day, and night after night, Kazan remained a +slinking creature of the big swamp, mourning for the one creature that +had brought him out of chaos into light, who had filled his world for +him, and who, in going from him, had taken from this world even the +things that Gray Wolf had lost in her blindness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + +In the golden glow of the autumn sun there came up the stream overlooked +by the Sun Rock one day a man, a woman and a child in a canoe. +Civilization had done for lovely Joan what it had done for many another +wild flower transplanted from the depths of the wilderness. Her cheeks +were thin. Her blue eyes had lost their luster. She coughed, and when +she coughed the man looked at her with love and fear in his eyes. But +now, slowly, the man had begun to see the transformation, and on the day +their canoe pointed up the stream and into the wonderful valley that had +been their home before the call of the distant city came to them, he +noted the flush gathering once more in her cheeks, the fuller redness of +her lips, and the gathering glow of happiness and content in her eyes. +He laughed softly as he saw these things, and he blessed the forests. In +the canoe she had leaned back, with her head almost against his +shoulder, and he stopped paddling to draw her to him, and run his +fingers through the soft golden masses of her hair. + +"You are happy again, Joan," he laughed joyously. "The doctors were +right. You are a part of the forests." + +"Yes, I am happy," she whispered, and suddenly there came a little +thrill into her voice, and she pointed to a white finger of sand running +out into the stream. "Do you remember--years and years ago, it +seems--that Kazan left us here? _She_ was on the sand over there, +calling to him. Do you remember?" There was a little tremble about her +mouth, and she added, "I wonder--where they--have gone." + +The cabin was as they had left it. Only the crimson _bakneesh_ had grown +up about it, and shrubs and tall grass had sprung up near its walls. +Once more it took on life, and day by day the color came deeper into +Joan's cheeks, and her voice was filled with its old wild sweetness of +song. Joan's husband cleared the trails over his old trap-lines, and +Joan and the little Joan, who romped and talked now, transformed the +cabin into _home_. One night the man returned to the cabin late, and +when he came in there was a glow of excitement in Joan's blue eyes, and +a tremble in her voice when she greeted him. + +"Did you hear it?" she asked. "Did you hear--_the call_?" + +He nodded, stroking her soft hair. + +"I was a mile back in the creek swamp," he said. "I heard it!" + +Joan's hands clutched his arms. + +"It wasn't Kazan," she said. "I would recognize _his_ voice. But it +seemed to me it was like the other--the call that came that morning from +the sand-bar, his _mate_?" + +The man was thinking. Joan's fingers tightened. She was breathing a +little quickly. + +"Will you promise me this?" she asked, "Will you promise me that you +will never hunt or trap for wolves?" + +"I had thought of that," he replied. "I thought of it--after I heard the +call. Yes, I will promise." + +Joan's arms stole up about his neck. + +"We loved Kazan," she whispered. "And you might kill him--or _her_" + +Suddenly she stopped. Both listened. The door was a little ajar, and to +them there came again the wailing mate-call of the wolf. Joan ran to the +door. Her husband followed. Together they stood silent, and with tense +breath Joan pointed over the starlit plain. + +"Listen! Listen!" she commanded. "It's her cry, _and it came from the +Sun Rock_!" + +She ran out into the night, forgetting that the man was close behind her +now, forgetting that little Joan was alone in her bed. And to them, from +miles and miles across the plain, there came a wailing cry in answer--a +cry that seemed a part of the wind, and that thrilled Joan until her +breath broke in a strange sob. + +Farther out on the plain she went and then stopped, with the golden glow +of the autumn moon and the stars shimmering in her hair and eyes. It was +many minutes before the cry came again, and then it was so near that +Joan put her hands to her mouth, and her cry rang out over the plain as +in the days of old. + +"_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +At the top of the Sun Rock, Gray Wolf--gaunt and thinned by +starvation--heard the woman's cry, and the call that was in her throat +died away in a whine. And to the north a swiftly moving shadow stopped +for a moment, and stood like a thing of rock under the starlight. It was +Kazan. A strange fire leaped through his body. Every fiber of his brute +understanding was afire with the knowledge that here was _home_. It was +here, long ago, that he had lived, and loved, and fought--and all at +once the dreams that had grown faded and indistinct in his memory came +back to him as real living things. For, coming to him faintly over the +plain, _he heard Joan's voice!_ + +In the starlight Joan stood, tense and white, when from out of the pale +mists of the moon-glow he came to her, cringing on his belly, panting +and wind-run, and with a strange whining note in his throat. And as Joan +went to him, her arms reaching out, her lips sobbing his name over and +over again, the man stood and looked down upon them with the wonder of a +new and greater understanding in his face. He had no fear of the +wolf-dog now. And as Joan's arms hugged Kazan's great shaggy head up to +her he heard the whining gasping joy of the beast and the sobbing +whispering voice of the girl, and with tensely gripped hands he faced +the Sun Rock. + +"My Gawd," he breathed. "I believe--it's so--" + +As if in response to the thought in his mind, there came once more +across the plain Gray Wolf's mate-seeking cry of grief and of +loneliness. Swiftly as though struck by a lash Kazan was on his +feet--oblivious of Joan's touch, of her voice, of the presence of the +man. In another instant he was gone, and Joan flung herself against her +husband's breast, and almost fiercely took his face between her two +hands. + +"_Now_ do you believe?" she cried pantingly. "_Now_ do you believe in +the God of my world--the God I have lived with, the God that gives souls +to the wild things, the God that--that has brought--us, +all--together--once more--_home_!" + +His arms closed gently about her. + +"I believe, my Joan," he whispered. + +"And you understand--now--what it means, 'Thou shalt not kill'?" + +"Except that it brings us life--yes, I understand," he replied. + +Her warm soft hands stroked his face. Her blue eyes, filled with the +glory of the stars, looked up into his. + +"Kazan and _she_--you and I--and the baby! Are you sorry--that we came +back?" she asked. + +So close he drew her against his breast that she did not hear the words +he whispered in the soft warmth of her hair. And after that, for many +hours, they sat in the starlight in front of the cabin door. But they +did not hear again that lonely cry from the Sun Rock. Joan and her +husband understood. + +"He'll visit us again to-morrow," the man said at last. "Come, Joan, let +us go to bed." + +Together they entered the cabin. + +And that night, side by side, Kazan and Gray Wolf hunted again in the +moonlit plain. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + +***** This file should be named 10084-8.txt or 10084-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/0/8/10084/ + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/10084-8.zip b/10084-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..409fcb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-8.zip diff --git a/10084-h.zip b/10084-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e62fb3 --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-h.zip diff --git a/10084-h/001.jpg b/10084-h/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e59849f --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-h/001.jpg diff --git a/10084-h/002.jpg b/10084-h/002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9e3a5f --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-h/002.jpg diff --git a/10084-h/003.jpg b/10084-h/003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..072238e --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-h/003.jpg diff --git a/10084-h/004.jpg b/10084-h/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2fa8bba --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-h/004.jpg diff --git a/10084-h/10084-h.htm b/10084-h/10084-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad678a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/10084-h/10084-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6858 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" ?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + h1,h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps } + h1,h2 { margin-top: 2em } + li,.smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + img { border-style: none } + p {margin: 2em 20% 1em 20%} + ol,ul {margin: 3em 20% 3em 20%} + blockquote {margin: 3em 20% 3em 25%} + hr ( margin: 2em 0% 2em 0% } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + + --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Kazan + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: November 14, 2003 [EBook #10084] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + + + + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p align="center"><img src="001.jpg" alt="[Illustration: He heard Joan's voice]" /></p> + +<h1>Kazan</h1> + +<h2>By James Oliver Curwood</h2> + +<h3>Author of<br /> +The Danger Trail, Etc.</h3> + +<h3>Illustrated by<br /> +Gayle Hoskins and Frank Hoffman</h3> + +<h3>New York<br /> +Grosset & Dunlap Publishers</h3> + +<h3>Copyright 1914<br /> +The Bobbs-Merrill Company</h3> + +<p align="center">WRITTEN FOR AND ORIGINALLY +PUBLISHED IN THE RED BOOK MAGAZINE</p> + + + + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<ol type="upper-roman"> +<li><a href="#1">The Miracle</a></li> +<li><a href="#2">Into The North</a></li> +<li><a href="#3">Mccready Pays The Debt</a></li> +<li><a href="#4">Free From Bonds</a></li> +<li><a href="#5">The Fight In The Snow</a></li> +<li><a href="#6">Joan</a></li> +<li><a href="#7">Out Of The Blizzard</a></li> +<li><a href="#8">The Great Change</a></li> +<li><a href="#9">The Tragedy On Sun Rock</a></li> +<li><a href="#10">The Days Of Fire</a></li> +<li><a href="#11">Always Two By Two</a></li> +<li><a href="#12">The Red Death</a></li> +<li><a href="#13">The Trail Of Hunger</a></li> +<li><a href="#14">The Right Of Fang</a></li> +<li><a href="#15">A Fight Under The Stars</a></li> +<li><a href="#16">The Call</a></li> +<li><a href="#17">His Son</a></li> +<li><a href="#18">The Education Of Ba-Ree</a></li> +<li><a href="#19">The Usurpers</a></li> +<li><a href="#20">A Feud In The Wilderness</a></li> +<li><a href="#21">A Shot On The Sand-Bar</a></li> +<li><a href="#22">Sandy'S Method</a></li> +<li><a href="#23">Professor Mcgill</a></li> +<li><a href="#24">Alone In Darkness</a></li> +<li><a href="#25">The Last Of Mctrigger</a></li> +<li><a href="#26">An Empty World</a></li> +<li><a href="#27">The Call Of Sun Rock</a></li> +</ol> + + + +<a name="1"></a> +<h2>Chapter I</h2> + +<h3>The Miracle</h3> + +<p>Kazan lay mute and motionless, his gray nose between his forepaws, his +eyes half closed. A rock could have appeared scarcely less lifeless than +he; not a muscle twitched; not a hair moved; not an eyelid quivered. Yet +every drop of the wild blood in his splendid body was racing in a +ferment of excitement that Kazan had never before experienced; every +nerve and fiber of his wonderful muscles was tense as steel wire. +Quarter-strain wolf, three-quarters "husky," he had lived the four years +of his life in the wilderness. He had felt the pangs of starvation. He +knew what it meant to freeze. He had listened to the wailing winds of +the long Arctic night over the barrens. He had heard the thunder of the +torrent and the cataract, and had cowered under the mighty crash of the +storm. His throat and sides were scarred by battle, and his eyes were +red with the blister of the snows. He was called Kazan, the Wild Dog, +because he was a giant among his kind and as fearless, even, as the men +who drove him through the perils of a frozen world.</p> + +<p>He had never known fear—until now. He had never felt in him before the +desire to <i>run</i>—not even on that terrible day in the forest when he had +fought and killed the big gray lynx. He did not know what it was that +frightened him, but he knew that he was in another world, and that many +things in it startled and alarmed him. It was his first glimpse of +civilization. He wished that his master would come back into the strange +room where he had left him. It was a room filled with hideous things. +There were great human faces on the wall, but they did not move or +speak, but stared at him in a way he had never seen people look before. +He remembered having looked on a master who lay very quiet and very cold +in the snow, and he had sat back on his haunches and wailed forth the +death song; but these people on the walls looked alive, and yet seemed +dead.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Kazan lifted his ears a little. He heard steps, then low +voices. One of them was his master's voice. But the other—it sent a +little tremor through him! Once, so long ago that it must have been in +his puppyhood days, he seemed to have had a dream of a laugh that was +like the girl's laugh—a laugh that was all at once filled with a +wonderful happiness, the thrill of a wonderful love, and a sweetness +that made Kazan lift his head as they came in. He looked straight at +them, his red eyes gleaming. At once he knew that she must be dear to +his master, for his master's arm was about her. In the glow of the light +he saw that her hair was very bright, and that there was the color of +the crimson <i>bakneesh</i> vine in her face and the blue of the <i>bakneesh</i> +flower in her shining eyes. Suddenly she saw him, and with a little cry +darted toward him.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" shouted the man. "He's dangerous! Kazan—"</p> + +<p>She was on her knees beside him, all fluffy and sweet and beautiful, her +eyes shining wonderfully, her hands about to touch him. Should he cringe +back? Should he snap? Was she one of the things on the wall, and his +enemy? Should he leap at her white throat? He saw the man running +forward, pale as death. Then her hand fell upon his head and the touch +sent a thrill through him that quivered in every nerve of his body. With +both hands she turned up his head. Her face was very close, and he heard +her say, almost sobbingly:</p> + +<p>"And you are Kazan—dear old Kazan, my Kazan, my hero dog—who brought +him home to me when all the others had died! My Kazan—my hero!"</p> + +<p>And then, miracle of miracles, her face was crushed down against him, +and he felt her sweet warm touch.</p> + +<p>In those moments Kazan did not move. He scarcely breathed. It seemed a +long time before the girl lifted her face from him. And when she did, +there were tears in her blue eyes, and the man was standing above them, +his hands gripped tight, his jaws set.</p> + +<p>"I never knew him to let any one touch him—with their naked hand," he +said in a tense wondering voice. "Move back quietly, Isobel. Good +heaven—look at that!"</p> + +<p>Kazan whined softly, his bloodshot eyes on the girl's face. He wanted to +feel her hand again; he wanted to touch her face. Would they beat him +with a club, he wondered, if he <i>dared</i>! He meant no harm now. He would +kill for her. He cringed toward her, inch by inch, his eyes never +faltering. He heard what the man said—"Good heaven! Look at that!"—and +he shuddered. But no blow fell to drive him back. His cold muzzle +touched her filmy dress, and she looked at him, without moving, her wet +eyes blazing like stars.</p> + +<p>"See!" she whispered. "See!"</p> + +<p>Half an inch more—an inch, two inches, and he gave his big gray body a +hunch toward her. Now his muzzle traveled slowly upward—over her foot, +to her lap, and at last touched the warm little hand that lay there. His +eyes were still on her face: he saw a queer throbbing in her bare white +throat, and then a trembling of her lips as she looked up at the man +with a wonderful look. He, too, knelt down beside them, and put his arm +about the girl again, and patted the dog on his head. Kazan did not like +the man's touch. He mistrusted it, as nature had taught him to mistrust +the touch of all men's hands, but he permitted it because he saw that it +in some way pleased the girl.</p> + +<p>"Kazan, old boy, you wouldn't hurt her, would you?" said his master +softly. "We both love her, don't we, boy? Can't help it, can we? And +she's ours, Kazan, all <i>ours</i>! She belongs to you and to me, and we're +going to take care of her all our lives, and if we ever have to we'll +fight for her like hell—won't we? Eh, Kazan, old boy?"</p> + +<p>For a long time after they left him where he was lying on the rug, +Kazan's eyes did not leave the girl. He watched and listened—and all +the time there grew more and more in him the craving to creep up to them +and touch the girl's hand, or her dress, or her foot. After a time his +master said something, and with a little laugh the girl jumped up and +ran to a big, square, shining thing that stood crosswise in a corner, +and which had a row of white teeth longer than his own body. He had +wondered what those teeth were for. The girl's fingers touched them now, +and all the whispering of winds that he had ever heard, all the music of +the waterfalls and the rapids and the trilling of birds in spring-time, +could not equal the sounds they made. It was his first music. For a +moment it startled and frightened him, and then he felt the fright pass +away and a strange tingling in his body. He wanted to sit back on his +haunches and howl, as he had howled at the billion stars in the skies on +cold winter nights. But something kept him from doing that. It was the +girl. Slowly he began slinking toward her. He felt the eyes of the man +upon him, and stopped. Then a little more—inches at a time, with his +throat and jaw straight out along the floor! He was half-way to +her—half-way across the room—when the wonderful sounds grew very soft +and very low.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he heard the man urge in a low quick voice. "Go on! Don't +stop!"</p> + +<p>The girl turned her head, saw Kazan cringing there on the floor, and +continued to play. The man was still looking, but his eyes could not +keep Kazan back now. He went nearer, still nearer, until at last his +outreaching muzzle touched her dress where it lay piled on the floor. +And then—he lay trembling, for she had begun to sing. He had heard a +Cree woman crooning in front of her tepee; he had heard the wild chant +of the caribou song—but he had never heard anything like this +wonderful sweetness that fell from the lips of the girl. He forgot his +master's presence now. Quietly, cringingly, so that she would not know, +he lifted his head. He saw her looking at him; there was something in +her wonderful eyes that gave him confidence, and he laid his head in her +lap. For the second time he felt the touch of a woman's hand, and he +closed his eyes with a long sighing breath. The music stopped. There +came a little fluttering sound above him, like a laugh and a sob in one. +He heard his master cough.</p> + +<p>"I've always loved the old rascal—but I never thought he'd do that," he +said; and his voice sounded queer to Kazan.</p> + + + + +<a name="2"></a> +<h2>Chapter II</h2> + +<h3>Into The North</h3> + +<p>Wonderful days followed for Kazan. He missed the forests and deep snows. +He missed the daily strife of keeping his team-mates in trace, the +yapping at his heels, the straight long pull over the open spaces and +the barrens. He missed the "Koosh—koosh—Hoo-yah!" of the driver, the +spiteful snap of his twenty-foot caribou-gut whip, and that yelping and +straining behind him that told him he had his followers in line. But +something had come to take the place of that which he missed. It was in +the room, in the air all about him, even when the girl or his master was +not near. Wherever she had been, he found the presence of that strange +thing that took away his loneliness. It was the woman scent, and +sometimes it made him whine softly when the girl herself was actually +with him. He was not lonely, nights, when he should have been out +howling at the stars. He was not lonely, because one night he prowled +about until he found a certain door, and when the girl opened that door +in the morning she found him curled up tight against it. She had reached +down and hugged him, the thick smother of her long hair falling all over +him in a delightful perfume; thereafter she placed a rug before the door +for him to sleep on. All through the long nights he knew that she was +just beyond the door, and he was content. Each day he thought less and +less of the wild places, and more of her.</p> + +<p>Then there came the beginning of the change. There was a strange hurry +and excitement around him, and the girl paid less attention to him. He +grew uneasy. He sniffed the change in the air, and he began to study his +master's face. Then there came the morning, very early, when the babiche +collar and the iron chain were fastened to him again. Not until he had +followed his master out through the door and into the street did he +begin to understand. They were sending him away! He sat suddenly back on +his haunches and refused to budge.</p> + +<p>"Come, Kazan," coaxed the man. "Come on, boy."</p> + +<p>He hung back and showed his white fangs. He expected the lash of a whip +or the blow of a club, but neither came. His master laughed and took him +back to the house. When they left it again, the girl was with them and +walked with her hand touching his head. It was she who persuaded him to +leap up through a big dark hole into the still darker interior of a car, +and it was she who lured him to the darkest corner of all, where his +master fastened his chain. Then they went out, laughing like two +children. For hours after that, Kazan lay still and tense, listening to +the queer rumble of wheels under him. Several times those wheels +stopped, and he heard voices outside. At last he was sure that he heard +a familiar voice, and he strained at his chain and whined. The closed +door slid back. A man with a lantern climbed in, followed by his master. +He paid no attention to them, but glared out through the opening into +the gloom of night. He almost broke loose when he leaped down upon the +white snow, but when he saw no one there, he stood rigid, sniffing the +air. Over him were the stars he had howled at all his life, and about +him were the forests, black and silent, shutting them in like a wall. +Vainly he sought for that one scent that was missing, and Thorpe heard +the low note of grief in his shaggy throat. He took the lantern and held +it above his head, at the same time loosening his hold on the leash. At +that signal there came a voice from out of the night. It came from +behind them, and Kazan whirled so suddenly that the loosely held chain +slipped from the man's hand. He saw the glow of other lanterns. And +then, once more, the voice—</p> + +<p>"Kaa-aa-zan!"</p> + +<p>He was off like a bolt. Thorpe laughed to himself as he followed.</p> + +<p>"The old pirate!" he chuckled.</p> + +<p>When he came to the lantern-lighted space back of the caboose, Thorpe +found Kazan crouching down at a woman's feet. It was Thorpe's wife. She +smiled triumphantly at him as he came up out of the gloom.</p> + +<p>"You've won!" he laughed, not unhappily. "I'd have wagered my last +dollar he wouldn't do that for any voice on earth. You've won! Kazan, +you brute, I've lost you!"</p> + +<p>His face suddenly sobered as Isobel stooped to pick up the end of the +chain.</p> + +<p>"He's yours, Issy," he added quickly, "but you must let me care for him +until—we <i>know</i>. Give me the chain. I won't trust him even now. He's a +wolf. I've seen him take an Indian's hand off at a single snap. I've +seen him tear out another dog's jugular in one leap. He's an outlaw—a +bad dog—in spite of the fact that he hung to me like a hero and brought +me out alive. I can't trust him. Give me the chain—"</p> + +<p>He did not finish. With the snarl of a wild beast Kazan had leaped to +his feet. His lips drew up and bared his long fangs. His spine +stiffened, and with a sudden cry of warning, Thorpe dropped a hand to +the revolver at his belt.</p> + +<p>Kazan paid no attention to him. Another form had approached out of the +night, and stood now in the circle of illumination made by the lanterns. +It was McCready, who was to accompany Thorpe and his young wife back to +the Red River camp, where Thorpe was in charge of the building of the +new Trans-continental. The man was straight, powerfully built and clean +shaven. His jaw was so square that it was brutal, and there was a glow +in his eyes that was almost like the passion in Kazan's as he looked at +Isobel.</p> + +<p>Her red and white stocking-cap had slipped free of her head and was +hanging over her shoulder. The dull blaze of the lanterns shone in the +warm glow of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, suddenly +turned to him, were as blue as the bluest <i>bakneesh</i> flower and glowed +like diamonds. McCready shifted his gaze, and instantly her hand fell on +Kazan's head. For the first time the dog did not seem to feel her touch. +He still snarled at McCready, the rumbling menace in his throat growing +deeper. Thorpe's wife tugged at the chain.</p> + +<p>"Down, Kazan—down!" she commanded.</p> + +<p>At the sound of her voice he relaxed.</p> + +<p>"Down!" she repeated, and her free hand fell on his head again. He slunk +to her feet. But his lips were still drawn back. Thorpe was watching +him. He wondered at the deadly venom that shot from the wolfish eyes, +and looked at McCready. The big guide had uncoiled his long dog-whip. A +strange look had come into his face. He was staring hard at Kazan. +Suddenly he leaned forward, with both hands on his knees, and for a +tense moment or two he seemed to forget that Isobel Thorpe's wonderful +blue eyes were looking at him.</p> + +<p>"Hoo-koosh, Pedro—<i>charge</i>!"</p> + +<p>That one word—<i>charge</i>—was taught only to the dogs in the service of +the Northwest Mounted Police. Kazan did not move. McCready straightened, +and quick as a shot sent the long lash of his whip curling out into the +night with a crack like a pistol report.</p> + +<p>"Charge, Pedro—<i>charge</i>!"</p> + +<p>The rumble in Kazan's throat deepened to a snarling growl, but not a +muscle of his body moved. McCready turned to Thorpe.</p> + +<p>"I could have sworn that I knew that dog," he said. "If it's Pedro, he's +<i>bad</i>!"</p> + +<p>Thorpe was taking the chain. Only the girl saw the look that came for an +instant into McCready's face. It made her shiver. A few minutes before, +when the train had first stopped at Les Pas, she had offered her hand +to this man and she had seen the same thing then. But even as she +shuddered she recalled the many things her husband had told her of the +forest people. She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough +manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and +suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of +fear and dislike.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make +friends with him?"</p> + +<p>She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain. +McCready came to her side as she bent over the dog. His back was to +Thorpe as he hunched down. Isobel's bowed head was within a foot of his +face. He could see the glow in her cheek and the pouting curve of her +mouth as she quieted the low rumbling in Kazan's throat. Thorpe stood +ready to pull back on the chain, but for a moment McCready was between +him and his wife, and he could not see McCready's face. The man's eyes +were not on Kazan. He was staring at the girl.</p> + +<p>"You're brave," he said. "I don't dare do that. He would take off my +hand!"</p> + +<p>He took the lantern from Thorpe and led the way to a narrow snow-path +branching off, from the track. Hidden back in the thick spruce was the +camp that Thorpe had left a fortnight before. There were two tents there +now in place of the one that he and his guide had used. A big fire was +burning in front of them. Close to the fire was a long sledge, and +fastened to trees just within the outer circle of firelight Kazan saw +the shadowy forms and gleaming eyes of his team-mates. He stood stiff +and motionless while Thorpe fastened him to a sledge. Once more he was +back in his forests—and in command. His mistress was laughing and +clapping her hands delightedly in the excitement of the strange and +wonderful life of which she had now become a part. Thorpe had thrown +back the flap of their tent, and she was entering ahead of him. She did +not look back. She spoke no word to him. He whined, and turned his red +eyes on McCready.</p> + +<p>In the tent Thorpe was saying:</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry old Jackpine wouldn't go back with us, Issy. He drove me +down, but for love or money I couldn't get him to return. He's a Mission +Indian, and I'd give a month's salary to have you see him handle the +dogs. I'm not sure about this man McCready. He's a queer chap, the +Company's agent here tells me, and knows the woods like a book. But dogs +don't like a stranger. Kazan isn't going to take to him worth a cent!"</p> + +<p>Kazan heard the girl's voice, and stood rigid and motionless listening +to it. He did not hear or see McCready when he came up stealthily behind +him. The man's voice came as suddenly as a shot at his heels.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pedro</i>!"</p> + +<p>In an instant Kazan cringed as if touched by a lash.</p> + +<p>"Got you that time—didn't I, you old devil!" whispered McCready, his +face strangely pale in the firelight. "Changed your name, eh? But I +<i>got</i> you—didn't I?"</p> + + + + +<a name="3"></a> +<h2>Chapter III</h2> + +<h3>McCready Pays The Debt</h3> + +<p>For a long time after he had uttered those words McCready sat in silence +beside the fire. Only for a moment or two at a time did his eyes leave +Kazan. After a little, when he was sure that Thorpe and Isobel had +retired for the night, he went into his own tent and returned with a +flask of whisky. During the next half-hour he drank frequently. Then he +went over and sat on the end of the sledge, just beyond the reach of +Kazan's chain.</p> + +<p>"Got you, didn't I?" he repeated, the effect of the liquor beginning to +show in the glitter of his eyes. "Wonder who changed your name, Pedro. +And how the devil did <i>he</i> come by you? Ho, ho, if you could only +talk—"</p> + +<p>They heard Thorpe's voice inside the tent. It was followed by a low +girlish peal of laughter, and McCready jerked himself erect. His face +blazed suddenly red, and he rose to his feet, dropping the flask in his +coat pocket. Walking around the fire, he tiptoed cautiously to the +shadow of a tree close to the tent and stood there for many minutes +listening. His eyes burned with a fiery madness when he returned to the +sledge and Kazan. It was midnight before he went into his own tent.</p> + +<p>In the warmth of the fire, Kazan's eyes slowly closed. He slumbered +uneasily, and his brain was filled with troubled pictures. At times he +was fighting, and his jaws snapped. At others he was straining at the +end of his chain, with McCready or his mistress just out of reach. He +felt the gentle touch of the girl's hand again and heard the wonderful +sweetness of her voice as she sang to him and his master, and his body +trembled and twitched with the thrills that had filled him that night. +And then the picture changed. He was running at the head of a splendid +team—six dogs of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police—and his master was +calling him Pedro! The scene shifted. They were in camp. His master was +young and smooth-faced and he helped from the sledge another man whose +hands were fastened in front of him by curious black rings. Again it was +later—and he was lying before a great fire. His master was sitting +opposite him, with his back to a tent, and as he looked, there came out +of the tent the man with the black rings—only now the rings were gone +and his hands were free, and in one of them he carried a heavy club. He +heard the terrible blow of the club as it fell on his master's head—and +the sound of it aroused him from his restless sleep.</p> + +<p>He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. +The fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that +precedes dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready. Again he was +standing close to the tent of his mistress, and he knew now that this +was the man who had worn the black iron rings, and that it was he who +had beaten him with whip and club for many long days after he had killed +his master. McCready heard the menace in his throat and came back +quickly to the fire. He began to whistle and draw the half-burned logs +together, and as the fire blazed up afresh he shouted to awaken Thorp +and Isobel. In a few minutes Thorpe appeared at the tent-flap and his +wife followed him out. Her loose hair rippled in billows of gold about +her shoulders and she sat down on the sledge, close to Kazan, and began +brushing it. McCready came up behind her and fumbled among the packages +on the sledge. As if by accident one of his hands buried itself for an +instant in the rich tresses that flowed down her back. She did not at +first feel the caressing touch of his fingers, and Thorpe's back was +toward them.</p> + +<p>Only Kazan saw the stealthy movement of the hand, the fondling clutch of +the fingers in her hair, and the mad passion burning in the eyes of the +man. Quicker than a lynx, the dog had leaped the length of his chain +across the sledge. McCready sprang back just in time, and as Kazan +reached the end of his chain he was jerked back so that his body struck +sidewise against the girl. Thorpe had turned in time to see the end of +the leap. He believed that Kazan had sprung at Isobel, and in his horror +no word or cry escaped his lips as he dragged her from where she had +half fallen over the sledge. He saw that she was not hurt, and he +reached for his revolver. It was in his holster in the tent. At his feet +was McCready's whip, and in the passion of the moment he seized it and +sprang upon Kazan. The dog crouched in the snow. He made no move to +escape or to attack. Only once in his life could he remember having +received a beating like that which Thorpe inflicted upon him now. But +not a whimper or a growl escaped him.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="002.jpg" alt="[Illustration: "Not another blow!"]" /></p> + +<p>And then, suddenly, his mistress ran forward and caught the whip poised +above Thorpe's head.</p> + +<p>"Not another blow!" she cried, and something in her voice held him from +striking. McCready did not hear what she said then, but a strange look +came into Thorpe's eyes, and without a word he followed his wife into +their tent.</p> + +<p>"Kazan did not leap at me," she whispered, and she was trembling with a +sudden excitement. Her face was deathly white. "That man was behind me," +she went on, clutching her husband by the arm. "I felt him touch me—and +then Kazan sprang. He wouldn't bite <i>me</i>. It's the <i>man</i>! There's +something—wrong—"</p> + +<p>She was almost sobbing, and Thorpe drew her close in his arms.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't thought before—but it's strange," he said. "Didn't McCready +say something about knowing the dog? It's possible. Perhaps he's had +Kazan before and abused him in a way that the dog has not forgotten. +To-morrow I'll find out. But until I know—will you promise to keep away +from Kazan?"</p> + +<p>Isobel gave the promise. When they came out from the tent Kazan lifted +his great head. The stinging lash had closed one of his eyes and his +mouth was dripping blood. Isobel gave a low sob, but did not go near +him. Half blinded, he knew that his mistress had stopped his punishment, +and he whined softly, and wagged his thick tail in the snow.</p> + +<p>Never had he felt so miserable as through the long hard hours of the day +that followed, when he broke the trail for his team-mates into the +North. One of his eyes was closed and filled with stinging fire, and his +body was sore from the blows of the caribou lash. But it was not +physical pain that gave the sullen droop to his head and robbed his body +of that keen quick alertness of the lead-dog—the commander of his +mates. It was his spirit. For the first time in his life, it was broken. +McCready had beaten him—long ago; his master had beaten him; and +during all this day their voices were fierce and vengeful in his ears. +But it was his mistress who hurt him most. She held aloof from him, +always beyond they reach of his leash; and when they stopped to rest, +and again in camp, she looked at him with strange and wondering eyes, +and did not speak. She, too, was ready to beat him. He believed that, +and so slunk away from her and crouched on his belly in the snow. With +him, a broken spirit meant a broken heart, and that night he lurked in +one of the deepest shadows about the camp-fire and grieved alone. None +knew that it was grief—unless it was the girl. She did not move toward +him. She did not speak to him. But she watched him closely—and studied +him hardest when he was looking at McCready.</p> + +<p>Later, after Thorpe and his wife had gone into their tent, it began to +snow, and the effect of the snow upon McCready puzzled Kazan. The man +was restless, and he drank frequently from the flask that he had used +the night before. In the firelight his face grew redder and redder, and +Kazan could see the strange gleam of his teeth as he gazed at the tent +in which his mistress was sleeping. Again and again he went close to +that tent, and listened. Twice he heard movement. The last time, it was +the sound of Thorpe's deep breathing. McCready hurried back to the fire +and turned his face straight up to the sky. The snow was falling so +thickly that when he lowered his face he blinked and wiped his eyes. +Then he went out into the gloom and bent low over the trail they had +made a few hours before. It was almost obliterated by the falling snow. +Another hour and there would be no trail—nothing the next day to tell +whoever might pass that they had come this way. By morning it would +cover everything, even the fire, if he allowed it to die down. McCready +drank again, out in the darkness. Low words of an insane joy burst from +his lips. His head was hot with a drunken fire. His heart beat madly, +but scarcely more furiously than did Kazan's when the dog saw that +McCready was returning <i>with a club</i>! The club he placed on end against +a tree. Then he took a lantern from the sledge and lighted it. He +approached Thorpe's tent-flap, the lantern in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Ho, Thorpe—Thorpe!" he called.</p> + +<p>There was no answer. He could hear Thorpe breathing. He drew the flap +aside a little, and raised his voice.</p> + +<p>"Thorpe!"</p> + +<p>Still there was no movement inside, and he untied the flap strings and +thrust in his lantern. The light flashed on Isobel's golden head, and +McCready stared at it, his eyes burning like red coals, until he saw +that Thorpe was awakening. Quickly he dropped the flap and rustled it +from the outside.</p> + +<p>"Ho, Thorpe!—Thorpe!" he called again.</p> + +<p>This time Thorpe replied.</p> + +<p>"Hello, McCready—is that you?"</p> + +<p>McCready drew the flap back a little, and spoke in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Can you come out a minute? Something's happening out in the woods. +Don't wake up your wife!"</p> + +<p>He drew back and waited. A minute later Thorpe came quietly out of the +tent. McCready pointed into the thick spruce.</p> + +<p>"I'll swear there's some one nosing around the camp," he said. "I'm +certain that I saw a man out there a few minutes ago, when I went for a +log. It's a good night for stealing dogs. Here—you take the lantern! If +I wasn't clean fooled, we'll find a trail in the snow."</p> + +<p>He gave Thorpe the lantern and picked up the heavy club. A growl rose in +Kazan's throat, but he choked it back. He wanted to snarl forth his +warning, to leap at the end of his leash, but he knew that if he did +that, they would return and beat him. So he lay still, trembling and +shivering, and whining softly. He watched them until they +disappeared—and then waited—listened. At last he heard the crunch of +snow. He was not surprised to see McCready come back alone. He had +expected him to return alone. For he knew what a club meant!</p> + +<p>McCready's face was terrible now. It was like a beast's. He was hatless. +Kazan slunk deeper in his shadow at the low horrible laugh that fell +from his lips—for the man still held the club. In a moment he dropped +that, and approached the tent. He drew back the flap and peered in. +Thorpe's wife was sleeping, and as quietly as a cat he entered and hung +the lantern on a nail in the tent-pole. His movement did not awaken her, +and for a few moments he stood there, staring—staring.</p> + +<p>Outside, crouching in the deep shadow, Kazan tried to fathom the meaning +of these strange things that were happening. Why had his master and +McCready gone out into the forest? Why had not his master returned? It +was his master, and not McCready, who belonged in that tent. Then why +was McCready there? He watched McCready as he entered, and suddenly the +dog was on his feet, his back tense and bristling, his limbs rigid. He +saw McCready's huge shadow on the canvas, and a moment later there came +a strange piercing cry. In the wild terror of that cry he recognized +<i>her</i> voice—and he leaped toward the tent. The leash stopped him, +choking the snarl in his throat. He saw the shadows struggling now, and +there came cry after cry. She was calling to his master, and with his +master's name she was calling <i>him</i>!</p> + +<p>"<i>Kazan</i>—<i>Kazan</i>—"</p> + +<p>He leaped again, and was thrown upon his back. A second and a third +time he sprang the length of the leash into the night, and the babiche +cord about his neck cut into his flesh like a knife. He stopped for an +instant, gasping for breath. The shadows were still fighting. Now they +were upright! Now they were crumpling down! With a fierce snarl he flung +his whole weight once more at the end of the chain. There was a snap, as +the thong about his neck gave way.</p> + +<p>In half a dozen bounds Kazan made the tent and rushed under the flap. +With a snarl he was at McCready's throat. The first snap of his powerful +jaws was death, but he did not know that. He knew only that his mistress +was there, and that he was fighting for her. There came one choking +gasping cry that ended with a terrible sob; it was McCready. The man +sank from his knees upon his back, and Kazan thrust his fangs deeper +into his enemy's throat; he felt the warm blood.</p> + +<p>The dog's mistress was calling to him now. She was pulling at his shaggy +neck. But he would not loose his hold—not for a long time. When he did, +his mistress looked down once upon the man and covered her face with +her hands. Then she sank down upon the blankets. She was very still. Her +face and hands were cold, and Kazan muzzled them tenderly. Her eyes were +closed. He snuggled up close against her, with his ready jaws turned +toward the dead man. Why was she so still, he wondered?</p> + +<p>A long time passed, and then she moved. Her eyes opened. Her hand +touched him.</p> + +<p>Then he heard a step outside.</p> + +<p>It was his master, and with that old thrill of fear—fear of the +club—he went swiftly to the door. Yes, there was his master in the +firelight—and in his hand he held the club. He was coming slowly, +almost falling at each step, and his face was red with blood. But he had +<i>the club</i>! He would beat him again—beat him terribly for hurting +McCready; so Kazan slipped quietly under the tent-flap and stole off +into the shadows. From out the gloom of the thick spruce he looked back, +and a low whine of love and grief rose and died softly in his throat. +They would beat him always now—after <i>that</i>. Even <i>she</i> would beat him. +They would hunt him down, and beat him when they found him.</p> + +<p>From out of the glow of the fire he turned his wolfish head to the +depths of the forest. There were no clubs or stinging lashes out in that +gloom. They would never find him there.</p> + +<p>For another moment he wavered. And then, as silently as one of the wild +creatures whose blood was partly his, he stole away into the blackness +of the night.</p> + + + + +<a name="4"></a> +<h2>Chapter IV</h2> + +<h3>Free From Bonds</h3> + +<p>There was a low moaning of the wind in the spruce-tops as Kazan slunk +off into the blackness and mystery of the forest. For hours he lay near +the camp, his red and blistered eyes gazing steadily at the tent wherein +the terrible thing had happened a little while before.</p> + +<p>He knew now what death was. He could tell it farther than man. He could +smell it in the air. And he knew that there was death all about him, and +that he was the cause of it. He lay on his belly in the deep snow and +shivered, and the three-quarters of him that was dog whined in a +grief-stricken way, while the quarter that was wolf still revealed +itself menacingly in his fangs, and in the vengeful glare of his eyes.</p> + +<p>Three times the man—his master—came out of the tent, and shouted +loudly, "Kazan—Kazan—Kazan!"</p> + +<p>Three times the woman came with him. In the firelight Kazan could see +her shining hair streaming about her, as he had seen it in the tent, +when he had leaped up and killed the other man. In her blue eyes there +was the same wild terror, and her face was white as the snow. And the +second and third time, she too called, "Kazan—Kazan—Kazan!"—and all +that part of him that was dog, and not wolf, trembled joyously at the +sound of her voice, and he almost crept in to take his beating. But fear +of the club was the greater, and he held back, hour after hour, until +now it was silent again in the tent, and he could no longer see their +shadows, and the fire was dying down.</p> + +<p>Cautiously he crept out from the thick gloom, working his way on his +belly toward the packed sledge, and what remained of the burned logs. +Beyond that sledge, hidden in the darkness of the trees, was the body of +the man he had killed, covered with a blanket. Thorpe, his master, had +dragged it there.</p> + +<p>He lay down, with his nose to the warm coals and his eyes leveled +between his forepaws, straight at the closed tent-flap. He meant to +keep awake, to watch, to be ready to slink off into the forest at the +first movement there. But a warmth was rising from out of the gray ash +of the fire-bed, and his eyes closed. Twice—three times—he fought +himself back into watchfulness; but the last time his eyes came only +half open, and closed heavily again.</p> + +<p>And now, in his sleep, he whined softly, and the splendid muscles of his +legs and shoulders twitched, and sudden shuddering ripples ran along his +tawny spine. Thorpe, who was in the tent, if he had seen him, would have +known that he was dreaming. And Thorpe's wife, whose golden head lay +close against his breast, and who shuddered and trembled now and then +even as Kazan was doing, would have known what he was dreaming about.</p> + +<p>In his sleep he was leaping again at the end of his chain. His jaws +snapped like castanets of steel,—and the sound awakened him, and he +sprang to his feet, his spine as stiff as a brush, and his snarling +fangs bared like ivory knives. He had awakened just in time. There was +movement in the tent. His master was awake, and if he did not escape—</p> + +<p>He sped swiftly into the thick spruce, and paused, flat and hidden, with +only his head showing from behind a tree. He knew that his master would +not spare him. Three times Thorpe had beaten him for snapping at +McCready. The last time he would have shot him if the girl had not saved +him. And now he had torn McCready's throat. He had taken the life from +him, and his master would not spare him. Even the woman could not save +him.</p> + +<p>Kazan was sorry that his master had returned, dazed and bleeding, after +he had torn McCready's jugular. Then he would have had her always. She +would have loved him. She did love him. And he would have followed her, +and fought for her always, and died for her when the time came. But +Thorpe had come in from the forest again, and Kazan had slunk away +quickly—for Thorpe meant to him what all men meant to him now: the +club, the whip and the strange things that spat fire and death. And +now—</p> + +<p>Thorpe had come out from the tent. It was approaching dawn, and in his +hand he held a rifle. A moment later the girl came out, and her hand +caught the man's arm. They looked toward the thing covered by the +blanket. Then she spoke to Thorpe and he suddenly straightened and +threw back his head.</p> + +<p>"H-o-o-o-o—Kazan—Kazan—Kazan!" he called.</p> + +<p>A shiver ran through Kazan. The man was trying to inveigle him back. He +had in his hand the thing that killed.</p> + +<p>"Kazan—Kazan—Ka-a-a-a-zan!" he shouted again.</p> + +<p>Kazan sneaked cautiously back from the tree. He knew that distance meant +nothing to the cold thing of death that Thorpe held in his hand. He +turned his head once, and whined softly, and for an instant a great +longing filled his reddened eyes as he saw the last of the girl.</p> + +<p>He knew, now, that he was leaving her forever, and there was an ache in +his heart that had never been there before, a pain that was not of the +club or whip, of cold or hunger, but which was greater than them all, +and which filled him with a desire to throw back his head and cry out +his loneliness to the gray emptiness of the sky.</p> + +<p>Back in the camp the girl's voice quivered.</p> + +<p>"He is gone."</p> + +<p>The man's strong voice choked a little.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is gone. <i>He knew</i>—and I didn't. I'd give—a year of my +life—if I hadn't whipped him yesterday and last night. He won't come +back."</p> + +<p>Isobel Thorpe's hand tightened on his arm.</p> + +<p>"He will!" she cried. "He won't leave me. He loved me, if he was savage +and terrible. And he knows that I love him. He'll come back—"</p> + +<p>"Listen!"</p> + +<p>From deep in the forest there came a long wailing howl, filled with a +plaintive sadness. It was Kazan's farewell to the woman.</p> + +<p>After that cry Kazan sat for a long time on his haunches, sniffing the +new freedom of the air, and watching the deep black pits in the forest +about him, as they faded away before dawn. 'Now and then, since the day +the traders had first bought him and put him into sledge-traces away +over on the Mackenzie, he had often thought of this freedom longingly, +the wolf blood in him urging him to take it. But he had never quite +dared. It thrilled him now. There were no clubs here, no whips, none of +the man-beasts whom he had first learned to distrust, and then to hate. +It was his misfortune—that quarter-strain of wolf; and the clubs, +instead of subduing him, had added to the savagery that was born in him. +Men had been his worst enemies. They had beaten him time and again until +he was almost dead. They called him "bad," and stepped wide of him, and +never missed the chance to snap a whip over his back. His body was +covered with scars they had given him.</p> + +<p>He had never felt kindness, or love, until the first night the woman had +put her warm little hand on his head, and had snuggled her face close +down to his, while Thorpe—her husband—had cried out in horror. He had +almost buried his fangs in her white flesh, but in an instant her gentle +touch, and her sweet voice, had sent through him that wonderful thrill +that was his first knowledge of love. And now it was a man who was +driving him from her, away from the hand that had never held a club or a +whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper into the forest.</p> + +<p>He came to the edge of a swamp as day broke. For a time he had been +filled with a strange uneasiness, and light did not quite dispel it. At +last he was free of men. He could detect nothing that reminded him of +their hated presence in the air. But neither could he smell the presence +of other dogs, of the sledge, the fire, of companionship and food, and +so far back as he could remember they had always been a part of his +life.</p> + +<p>Here it was very quiet. The swamp lay in a hollow between two +ridge-mountains, and the spruce and cedar grew low and thick—so thick +that there was almost no snow under them, and day was like twilight. Two +things he began to miss more than all others—food and company. Both the +wolf and the dog that was in him demanded the first, and that part of +him that was dog longed for the latter. To both desires the wolf blood +that was strong in him rose responsively. It told him that somewhere in +this silent world between the two ridges there was companionship, and +that all he had to do to find it was to sit back on his haunches, and +cry out his loneliness. More than once something trembled in his deep +chest, rose in his throat, and ended there in a whine. It was the wolf +howl, not yet quite born.</p> + +<p>Food came more easily than voice. Toward midday he cornered a big white +rabbit under a log, and killed it. The warm flesh and blood was better +than frozen fish, or tallow and bran, and the feast he had gave him +confidence. That afternoon he chased many rabbits, and killed two more. +Until now, he had never known the delight of pursuing and killing at +will, even though he did not eat all he killed.</p> + +<p>But there was no fight in the rabbits. They died too easily. They were +very sweet and tender to eat, when he was hungry, but the first thrill +of killing them passed away after a time. He wanted something bigger. He +no longer slunk along as if he were afraid, or as if he wanted to remain +hidden. He held his head up. His back bristled. His tail swung free and +bushy, like a wolf's. Every hair in his body quivered with the electric +energy of life and action. He traveled north and west. It was the call +of early days—the days away up on the Mackenzie. The Mackenzie was a +thousand miles away.</p> + +<p>He came upon many trails in the snow that day, and sniffed the scents +left by the hoofs of moose and caribou, and the fur-padded feet of a +lynx. He followed a fox, and the trail led him to a place shut in by +tall spruce, where the snow was beaten down and reddened with blood. +There was an owl's head, feathers, wings and entrails lying here, and he +knew that there were other hunters abroad besides himself.</p> + +<p>Toward evening he came upon tracks in the snow that were very much like +his own. They were quite fresh, and there was a warm scent about them +that made him whine, and filled him again with that desire to fall back +upon his haunches and send forth the wolf-cry. This desire grew stronger +in him as the shadows of night deepened in the forest. He had traveled +all day, but he was not tired. There was something about night, now that +there were no men near, that exhilarated him strangely. The wolf blood +in him ran swifter and swifter. To-night it was clear. The sky was +filled with stars. The moon rose. And at last he settled back in the +snow and turned his head straight up to the spruce-tops, and the wolf +came out of him in a long mournful cry which quivered through the still +night for miles.</p> + +<p>For a long time he sat and listened after that howl. He had found +voice—a voice with a strange new note in it, and it gave him still +greater confidence. He had expected an answer, but none came. He had +traveled in the face of the wind, and as he howled, a bull moose crashed +through the scrub timber ahead of him, his horns rattling against the +trees like the tattoo of a clear birch club as he put distance between +himself and that cry.</p> + +<p>Twice Kazan howled before he went on, and he found joy in the practise +of that new note. He came then to the foot of a rough ridge, and turned +up out of the swamp to the top of it. The stars and the moon were nearer +to him there, and on the other side of the ridge he looked down upon a +great sweeping plain, with a frozen lake glistening in the moonlight, +and a white river leading from it off into timber that was neither so +thick nor so black as that in the swamp.</p> + +<p>And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped. From +far off in the plain there came a cry. It was <i>his</i> cry—the wolf-cry. +His jaws snapped. His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his +throat. He wanted to reply, but some strange instinct urged him not to. +That instinct of the wild was already becoming master of him. In the +air, in the whispering of the spruce-tops, in the moon and the stars +themselves, there breathed a spirit which told him that what he had +heard was the wolf-cry, but that it was not the wolf <i>call</i>.</p> + +<p>The other came an hour later, clear and distinct, that same wailing howl +at the beginning—but ending in a staccato of quick sharp yelps that +stirred his blood at once into a fiery excitement that it had never +known before. The same instinct told him that this was the call—the +hunt-cry. It urged him to come quickly. A few moments later it came +again, and this time there was a reply from close down along the foot of +the ridge, and another from so far away that Kazan could scarcely hear +it. The hunt-pack was gathering for the night chase; but Kazan sat quiet +and trembling.</p> + +<p>He was not afraid, but he was not ready to go. The ridge seemed to split +the world for him. Down there it was new, and strange, and without men. +From the other side something seemed pulling him back, and suddenly he +turned his head and gazed back through the moonlit space behind him, and +whined. It was the dog-whine now. The woman was back there. He could +hear her voice. He could feel the touch of her soft hand. He could see +the laughter in her face and eyes, the laughter that had made him warm +and happy. She was calling to him through the forests, and he was torn +between desire to answer that call, and desire to go down into the +plain. For he could also see many men waiting for him with clubs, and he +could hear the cracking of whips, and feel the sting of their lashes.</p> + +<p>For a long time he remained on the top of the ridge that divided his +world. And then, at last, he turned and went down into the plain.</p> + +<p>All that night he kept close to the hunt-pack, but never quite +approached it. This was fortunate for him. He still bore the scent of +traces, and of man. The pack would have torn him into pieces. The first +instinct of the wild is that of self-preservation. It may have been +this, a whisper back through the years of savage forebears, that made +Kazan roll in the snow now and then where the feet of the pack had trod +the thickest.</p> + +<p>That night the pack killed a caribou on the edge of the lake, and +feasted until nearly dawn. Kazan hung in the face of the wind. The smell +of blood and of warm flesh tickled his nostrils, and his sharp ears +could catch the cracking of bones. But the instinct was stronger than +the temptation.</p> + +<p>Not until broad day, when the pack had scattered far and wide over the +plain, did he go boldly to the scene of the kill. He found nothing but +an area of blood-reddened snow, covered with bones, entrails and torn +bits of tough hide. But it was enough, and he rolled in it, and buried +his nose in what was left, and remained all that day close to it, +saturating himself with the scent of it.</p> + +<p>That night, when the moon and the stars came out again, he sat back with +fear and hesitation no longer in him, and announced himself to his new +comrades of the great plain.</p> + +<p>The pack hunted again that night, or else it was a new pack that started +miles to the south, and came up with a doe caribou to the big frozen +lake. The night was almost as clear as day, and from the edge of the +forest Kazan first saw the caribou run out on the lake a third of a mile +away. The pack was about a dozen strong, and had already split into the +fatal horseshoe formation, the two leaders running almost abreast of the +kill, and slowly closing in.</p> + +<p>With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out into the moonlight. He was directly +in the path of the fleeing doe, and bore down upon her with lightning +speed. Two hundred yards away the doe saw him, and swerved to the right, +and the leader on that side met her with open jaws. Kazan was in with +the second leader, and leaped at the doe's soft throat. In a snarling +mass the pack closed in from behind, and the doe went down, with Kazan +half under her body, his fangs sunk deep in her jugular. She lay heavily +on him, but he did not lose his hold. It was his first big kill. His +blood ran like fire. He snarled between his clamped teeth.</p> + +<p>Not until the last quiver had left the body over him did he pull himself +out from under her chest and forelegs. He had killed a rabbit that day +and was not hungry. So he sat back in the snow and waited, while the +ravenous pack tore at the dead doe. After a little he came nearer, nosed +in between two of them, and was nipped for his intrusion.</p> + +<p>As Kazan drew back, still hesitating to mix with his wild brothers, a +big gray form leaped out of the pack and drove straight for his throat. +He had just time to throw his shoulder to the attack, and for a moment +the two rolled over and over in the snow. They were up before the +excitement of sudden battle had drawn the pack from the feast. Slowly +they circled about each other, their white fangs bare, their yellowish +backs bristling like brushes. The fatal ring of wolves drew about the +fighters.</p> + +<p>It was not new to Kazan. A dozen times he had sat in rings like this, +waiting for the final moment. More than once he had fought for his life +within the circle. It was the sledge-dog way of fighting. Unless man +interrupted with a club or a whip it always ended in death. Only one +fighter could come out alive. Sometimes both died. And there was no man +here—only that fatal cordon of waiting white-fanged demons, ready to +leap upon and tear to pieces the first of the fighters who was thrown +upon his side or back. Kazan was a stranger, but he did not fear those +that hemmed him in. The one great law of the pack would compel them to +be fair.</p> + +<p>He kept his eyes only on the big gray leader who had challenged him. +Shoulder to shoulder they continued to circle. Where a few moments +before there had been the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh +there was now silence. Soft-footed and soft-throated mongrel dogs from +the South would have snarled and growled, but Kazan and the wolf were +still, their ears laid forward instead of back, their tails free and +bushy.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the wolf struck in with the swiftness of lightning, and his +jaws came together with the sharpness of steel striking steel. They +missed by an inch. In that same instant Kazan darted in to the side, and +like knives his teeth gashed the wolf's flank.</p> + +<p>They circled again, their eyes growing redder, their lips drawn back +until they seemed to have disappeared. And then Kazan leaped for that +death-grip at the throat—and missed. It was only by an inch again, and +the wolf came back, as he had done, and laid open Kazan's flank so that +the blood ran down his leg and reddened the snow. The burn of that +flank-wound told Kazan that his enemy was old in the game of fighting. +He crouched low, his head straight out, and his throat close to the +snow. It was a trick Kazan had learned in puppyhood—to shield his +throat, and wait.</p> + +<p>Twice the wolf circled about him, and Kazan pivoted slowly, his eyes +half closed. A second time the wolf leaped, and Kazan threw up his +terrible jaws, sure of that fatal grip just in front of the forelegs. +His teeth snapped on empty air. With the nimbleness of a cat the wolf +had gone completely over his back.</p> + +<p>The trick had failed, and with a rumble of the dog-snarl in his throat, +Kazan reached the wolf in a single bound. They met breast to breast. +Their fangs clashed and with the whole weight of his body, Kazan flung +himself against the wolf's shoulders, cleared his jaws, and struck again +for the throat hold. It was another miss—by a hair's breadth—and +before he could recover, the wolf's teeth were buried in the back of +his neck.</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life Kazan felt the terror and the pain of the +death-grip, and with a mighty effort he flung his head a little forward +and snapped blindly. His powerful jaws closed on the wolf's foreleg, +close to the body. There was a cracking of bone and a crunching of +flesh, and the circle of waiting wolves grew tense and alert. One or the +other of the fighters was sure to go down before the holds were broken, +and they but awaited that fatal fall as a signal to leap in to the +death.</p> + +<p>Only the thickness of hair and hide on the back of Kazan's neck, and the +toughness of his muscles, saved him from that terrible fate of the +vanquished. The wolf's teeth sank deep, but not deep enough to reach the +vital spot, and suddenly Kazan put every ounce of strength in his limbs +to the effort, and flung himself up bodily from under his antagonist. +The grip on his neck relaxed, and with another rearing leap he tore +himself free.</p> + +<p>As swift as a whip-lash he whirled on the broken-legged leader of the +pack and with the full rush and weight of his shoulders struck him +fairly in the side. More deadly than the throat-grip had Kazan sometimes +found the lunge when delivered at the right moment. It was deadly now. +The big gray wolf lost his feet, rolled upon his back for an instant, +and the pack rushed in, eager to rend the last of life from the leader +whose power had ceased to exist.</p> + +<p>From out of that gray, snarling, bloody-lipped mass, Kazan drew back, +panting and bleeding. He was weak. There was a curious sickness in his +head. He wanted to lie down in the snow. But the old and infallible +instinct warned him not to betray that weakness. From out of the pack a +slim, lithe, gray she-wolf came up to him, and lay down in the snow +before him, and then rose swiftly and sniffed at his wounds.</p> + +<p>She was young and strong and beautiful, but Kazan did not look at her. +Where the fight had been he was looking, at what little remained of the +old leader. The pack had returned to the feast. He heard again the +cracking of bones and the rending of flesh, and something told him that +hereafter all the wilderness would hear and recognize his voice, and +that when he sat back on his haunches and called to the moon and the +stars, those swift-footed hunters of the big plain would respond to it. +He circled twice about the caribou and the pack, and then trotted off to +the edge of the black spruce forest.</p> + +<p>When he reached the shadows he looked back. Gray Wolf was following him. +She was only a few yards behind. And now she came up to him, a little +timidly, and she, too, looked back to the dark blotch of life out on the +lake. And as she stood there close beside him, Kazan sniffed at +something in the air that was not the scent of blood, nor the perfume of +the balsam and spruce. It was a thing that seemed to come to him from +the clear stars, the cloudless moon, the strange and beautiful quiet of +the night itself. And its presence seemed to be a part of Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>He looked at her, and he found Gray Wolf's eyes alert and questioning. +She was young—so young that she seemed scarcely to have passed out of +puppyhood. Her body was strong and slim and beautifully shaped. In the +moonlight the hair under her throat and along her back shone sleek and +soft. She whined at the red staring light in Kazan's eyes, and it was +not a puppy's whimper. Kazan moved toward her, and stood with his head +over her back, facing the pack. He felt her trembling against his chest. +He looked at the moon and the stars again, the mystery of Gray Wolf and +of the night throbbing in his blood.</p> + +<p>Not much of his life had been spent at the posts. Most of it had been on +the trail—in the traces—and the spirit of the mating season had only +stirred him from afar. But it was very near now. Gray Wolf lifted her +head. Her soft muzzle touched the wound on his neck, and in the +gentleness of that touch, in the low sound in her throat, Kazan felt and +heard again that wonderful something that had come with the caress of +the woman's hand and the sound of her voice.</p> + +<p>He turned, whining, his back bristling, his head high and defiant of the +wilderness which he faced. Gray Wolf trotted close at his side as they +entered into the gloom of the forest.</p> + + + + +<a name="5"></a> +<h2>Chapter V</h2> + +<h3>The Fight In The Snow</h3> + +<p>They found shelter that night under thick balsam, and when they lay down +on the soft carpet of needles which the snow had not covered, Gray Wolf +snuggled her warm body close to Kazan and licked his wounds. The day +broke with a velvety fall of snow, so white and thick that they could +not see a dozen leaps ahead of them in the open. It was quite warm, and +so still that the whole world seemed filled with only the flutter and +whisper of the snowflakes. Through this day Kazan and Gray Wolf traveled +side by side. Time and again he turned his head back to the ridge over +which he had come, and Gray Wolf could not understand the strange note +that trembled in his throat.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon they returned to what was left of the caribou doe on +the lake. In the edge of the forest Gray Wolf hung back. She did not yet +know the meaning of poison-baits, deadfalls and traps, but the instinct +of numberless generations was in her veins, and it told her there was +danger in visiting a second time a thing that had grown cold in death.</p> + +<p>Kazan had seen masters work about carcasses that the wolves had left. He +had seen them conceal traps cleverly, and roll little capsules of +strychnine in the fat of the entrails, and once he had put a foreleg in +a trap, and had experienced its sting and pain and deadly grip. But he +did not have Gray Wolf's fear. He urged her to accompany him to the +white hummocks on the ice, and at last she went with him and sank back +restlessly on her haunches, while he dug out the bones and pieces of +flesh that the snow had kept from freezing. But she would not eat, and +at last Kazan went and sat on his haunches at her side, and with her +looked at what he had dug out from under the snow. He sniffed the air. +He could not smell danger, but Gray Wolf told him that it might be +there.</p> + +<p>She told him many other things in the days and nights that followed. The +third night Kazan himself gathered the hunt-pack and led in the chase. +Three times that month, before the moon left the skies, he led the +chase, and each time there was a kill. But as the snows began to grow +softer under his feet he found a greater and greater companionship in +Gray Wolf, and they hunted alone, living on the big white rabbits. In +all the world he had loved but two things, the girl with the shining +hair and the hands that had caressed him—and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>He did not leave the big plain, and often He took his mate to the top of +the ridge, and he would try to tell her what he had left back there. +With the dark nights the call of the woman became so strong upon him +that he was filled with a longing to go back, and take Gray Wolf with +him.</p> + +<p>Something happened very soon after that. They were crossing the open +plain one day when up on the face of the ridge Kazan saw something that +made his heart stand still. A man, with a dog-sledge and team, was +coming down into their world. The wind had not warned them, and suddenly +Kazan saw something glisten in the man's hands. He knew what it was. It +was the thing that spat fire and thunder, and killed.</p> + +<p>He gave his warning to Gray Wolf, and they were off like the wind, side +by side. And then came the <i>sound</i>—and Kazan's hatred of men burst +forth in a snarl as he leaped. There was a queer humming over their +heads. The sound from behind came again, and this time Gray Wolf gave a +yelp of pain, and rolled over and over in the snow. She was on her feet +again in an instant, and Kazan dropped behind her, and ran there until +they reached the shelter of the timber. Gray Wolf lay down, and began +licking the wound in her shoulder. Kazan faced the ridge. The man was +taking up their trail. He stopped where Gray Wolf had fallen, and +examined the snow. Then he came on.</p> + +<p>Kazan urged Gray Wolf to her feet, and they made for the thick swamp +close to the lake. All that day they kept in the face of the wind, and +when Gray Wolf lay down Kazan stole back over their trail, watching and +sniffing the air.</p> + +<p>For days after that Gray Wolf ran lame, and when once they came upon the +remains of an old camp, Kazan's teeth were bared in snarling hatred of +the man-scent that had been left behind. Growing in him there was a +desire for vengeance—vengeance for his own hurts, and for Gray Wolf's. +He tried to nose out the man-trail under the cover of fresh snow, and +Gray Wolf circled around him anxiously, and tried to lure him deeper +into the forest. At last he followed her sullenly. There was a savage +redness in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Three days later the new moon came. And on the fifth night Kazan struck +a trail. It was fresh—so fresh that he stopped as suddenly as though +struck by a bullet when he ran upon it, and stood with every muscle in +his body quivering, and his hair on end. It was a man-trail. There were +the marks of the sledge, the dogs' feet, and the snow-shoeprints of his +enemy.</p> + +<p>Then he threw up his head to the stars, and from his throat there rolled +out over the wide plains the hunt-cry—the wild and savage call for the +pack. Never had he put the savagery in it that was there to-night. Again +and again he sent forth that call, and then there came an answer and +another and still another, until Gray Wolf herself sat back on her +haunches and added her voice to Kazan's, and far out on the plain a +white and haggard-faced man halted his exhausted dogs to listen, while a +voice said faintly from the sledge:</p> + +<p>"The wolves, father. Are they coming—after us?"</p> + +<p>The man was silent. He was not young. The moon shone in his long white +beard, and added grotesquely to the height of his tall gaunt figure. A +girl had raised her head from a bearskin pillow on the sleigh. Her dark +eyes were filled beautifully with the starlight. She was pale. Her hair +fell in a thick shining braid over her shoulder, and she was hugging +something tightly to her breast.</p> + +<p>"They're on the trail of something—probably a deer," said the man, +looking at the breech of his rifle. "Don't worry, Jo. We'll stop at the +next bit of scrub and see if we can't find enough dry stuff for a +fire.—Wee-ah-h-h-h, boys! Koosh—koosh—" and he snapped his whip over +the backs of his team.</p> + +<p>From the bundle at the girl's breast there came a small wailing cry. And +far back in the plain there answered it the scattered voice of the pack.</p> + +<p>At last Kazan was on the trail of vengeance. He ran slowly at first, +with Gray Wolf close beside him, pausing every three or four hundred +yards to send forth the cry. A gray leaping form joined them from +behind. Another followed. Two came in from the side, and Kazan's +solitary howl gave place to the wild tongue of the pack. Numbers +grew, and with increasing number the pace became swifter. +Four—six—seven—ten—fourteen, by the time the more open and +wind-swept part of the plain was reached.</p> + +<p>It was a strong pack, filled with old and fearless hunters. Gray Wolf +was the youngest, and she kept close to Kazan's shoulders. She could see +nothing of his red-shot eyes and dripping jaws, and would not have +understood if she had seen. But she could <i>feel</i> and she was thrilled by +the spirit of that strange and mysterious savagery that had made Kazan +forget all things but hurt and death.</p> + +<p>The pack made no sound. There was only the panting of breath and the +soft fall of many feet. They ran swiftly and close. And always Kazan was +a leap ahead, with Gray Wolf nosing his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Never had he wanted to kill as he felt the desire in him to kill now. +For the first time he had no fear of man, no fear of the club, of the +whip, or of the thing that blazed forth fire and death. He ran more +swiftly, in order to overtake them and give them battle sooner. All of +the pent-up madness of four years of slavery and abuse at the hands of +men broke loose in thin red streams of fire in his veins, and when at +last he saw a moving blotch far out on the plain ahead of him, the cry +that came out of his throat was one that Gray Wolf did not understand.</p> + +<p>Three hundred yards beyond that moving blotch was the thin line of +timber, and Kazan and his followers bore down swiftly. Half-way to the +timber they were almost upon it, and suddenly it stopped and became a +black and motionless shadow on the snow. From out of it there leaped +that lightning tongue of flame that Kazan had always dreaded, and he +heard the hissing song of the death-bee over his head. He did not mind +it now. He yelped sharply, and the wolves raced in until four of them +were neck-and-neck with him.</p> + +<p>A second flash—and the death-bee drove from breast to tail of a huge +gray fighter close to Gray Wolf. A third—a fourth—a fifth spurt of +that fire from the black shadow, and Kazan himself felt a sudden swift +passing of a red-hot thing along his shoulder, where the man's last +bullet shaved off the hair and stung his flesh.</p> + +<p>Three of the pack had gone down under the fire of the rifle, and half of +the others were swinging to the right and the left. But Kazan drove +straight ahead. Faithfully Gray Wolf followed him.</p> + +<p>The sledge-dogs had been freed from their traces, and before he could +reach the man, whom he saw with his rifle held like a club in his hands, +Kazan was met by the fighting mass of them. He fought like a fiend, and +there was the strength and the fierceness of two mates in the mad +gnashing of Gray Wolf's fangs. Two of the wolves rushed in, and Kazan +heard the terrific, back-breaking thud of the rifle. To him it was the +<i>club</i>. He wanted to reach it. He wanted to reach the man who held it, +and he freed himself from the fighting mass of the dogs and sprang to +the sledge. For the first time he saw that there was something human on +the sledge, and in an instant he was upon it. He buried his jaws deep. +They sank in something soft and hairy, and he opened them for another +lunge. And then he heard the voice! It was <i>her voice</i>! Every muscle in +his body stood still. He became suddenly like flesh turned to lifeless +stone.</p> + +<p><i>Her voice</i>! The bear rug was thrown back and what had been hidden under +it he saw clearly now in the light of the moon and the stars. In him +instinct worked more swiftly than human brain could have given birth to +reason. It was not <i>she</i>. But the voice was the same, and the white +girlish face so close to his own blood-reddened eyes held in it that +same mystery that he had learned to love. And he saw now that which she +was clutching to her breast, and there came from it a strange thrilling +cry—and he knew that here on the sledge he had found not enmity and +death, but that from which he had been driven away in the other world +beyond the ridge.</p> + +<p>In a flash he turned. He snapped at Gray Wolf's flank, and she dropped +away with a startled yelp. It had all happened in a moment, but the man +was almost down. Kazan leaped under his clubbed rifle and drove into the +face of what was left of the pack. His fangs cut like knives. If he had +fought like a demon against the dogs, he fought like ten demons now, and +the man—bleeding and ready to fall—staggered back to the sledge, +marveling at what was happening. For in Gray Wolf there was now the +instinct of matehood, and seeing Kazan tearing and righting the pack she +joined him in the struggle which she could not understand.</p> + +<p>When it was over, Kazan and Gray Wolf were alone out on the plain. The +pack had slunk away into the night, and the same moon and stars that had +given to Kazan the first knowledge of his birthright told him now that +no longer would those wild brothers of the plains respond to his call +when he howled into the sky.</p> + +<p>He was hurt. And Gray Wolf was hurt, but not so badly as Kazan. He was +torn and bleeding. One of his legs was terribly bitten. After a time he +saw a fire in the edge of the forest. The old call was strong upon him. +He wanted to crawl in to it, and feel the girl's hand on his head, as +he had felt that other hand in the world beyond the ridge. He would have +gone—and would have urged Gray Wolf to go with him—but the man was +there. He whined, and Gray Wolf thrust her warm muzzle against his neck. +Something told them both that they were outcasts, that the plains, and +the moon, and the stars were against them now, and they slunk into the +shelter and the gloom of the forest.</p> + +<p>Kazan could not go far. He could still smell the camp when he lay down. +Gray Wolf snuggled close to him. Gently she soothed with her soft tongue +Kazan's bleeding wounds. And Kazan, lifting his head, whined softly to +the stars.</p> + + + + +<a name="6"></a> +<h2>Chapter VI</h2> + +<h3>Joan</h3> + +<p>On the edge of the cedar and spruce forest old Pierre Radisson built the +fire. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds, where the fangs of the wolves +had reached to his flesh, and he felt in his breast that old and +terrible pain, of which no one knew the meaning but himself. He dragged +in log after log, piled them on the fire until the flames leaped tip to +the crisping needles of the limbs above, and heaped a supply close at +hand for use later in the night.</p> + +<p>From the sledge Joan watched him, still wild-eyed and fearful, still +trembling. She was holding her baby close to her breast. Her long heavy +hair smothered her shoulders and arms in a dark lustrous veil that +glistened and rippled in the firelight when she moved. Her young face +was scarcely a woman's to-night, though she was a mother. She looked +like a child.</p> + +<p>Old Pierre laughed as he threw down the last armful of fuel, and stood +breathing hard.</p> + +<p>"It was close, <i>ma cheri</i>" he panted through his white beard. "We were +nearer to death out there on the plain than we will ever be again, I +hope. But we are comfortable now, and warm. Eh? You are no longer +afraid?"</p> + +<p>He sat down beside his daughter, and gently pulled back the soft fur +that enveloped the bundle she held in her arms. He could see one pink +cheek of baby Joan. The eyes of Joan, the mother, were like stars.</p> + +<p>"It was the baby who saved us," she whispered. "The dogs were being torn +to pieces by the wolves, and I saw them leaping upon you, when one of +them sprang to the sledge. At first I thought it was one of the dogs. +But it was a wolf. He tore once at us, and the bearskin saved us. He was +almost at my throat when baby cried, and then he stood there, his red +eyes a foot from us, and I could have sworn again that he was a dog. In +an instant he turned, and was fighting the wolves. I saw him leap upon +one that was almost at your throat."</p> + +<p>"He <i>was</i> a dog," said old Pierre, holding out his hands to the warmth. +"They often wander away from the posts, and join the wolves. I have had +dogs do that. <i>Ma cheri</i>, a dog is a dog all his life. Kicks, abuse, +even the wolves can not change him—for long. He was one of the pack. He +came with them—to kill. But when he found <i>us</i>—"</p> + +<p>"He fought for us," breathed the girl. She gave him the bundle, and +stood up, straight and tall and slim in the firelight. "He fought for +us—and he was terribly hurt," she said. "I saw him drag himself away. +Father, if he is out there—dying—"</p> + +<p>Pierre Radisson stood up. He coughed in a shuddering way, trying to +stifle the sound under his beard. The fleck of crimson that came to his +lips with the cough Joan did not see. She had seen nothing of it during +the six days they had been traveling up from the edge of civilization. +Because of that cough, and the stain that came with it, Pierre had made +more than ordinary haste.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking of that," he said. "He was badly hurt, and I do +not think he went far. Here—take little Joan and sit close to the fire +until I come back."</p> + +<p>The moon and the stars were brilliant in the sky when he went out in the +plain. A short distance from the edge of the timber-line he stood for a +moment upon the spot where the wolves had overtaken them an hour before. +Not one of his four dogs had lived. The snow was red with their blood, +and their bodies lay stiff where they had fallen under the pack. Pierre +shuddered as he looked at them. If the wolves had not turned their first +mad attack upon the dogs, what would have become of himself, Joan and +the baby? He turned away, with another of those hollow coughs that +brought the blood to his lips.</p> + +<p>A few yards to one side he found in the snow the trail of the strange +dog that had come with the wolves, and had turned against them in that +moment when all seemed lost. It was not a clean running trail. It was +more of a furrow in the snow, and Pierre Radisson followed it, expecting +to find the dog dead at the end of it.</p> + +<p>In the sheltered spot to which he had dragged himself in the edge of the +forest Kazan lay for a long time after the fight, alert and watchful. +He felt no very great pain. But he had lost the power to stand upon his +legs. His flanks seemed paralyzed. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, +sniffing the air. They could smell the camp, and Kazan could detect the +two things that were there—<i>man</i> and <i>woman</i>. He knew that the girl was +there, where he could see the glow of the firelight through the spruce +and the cedars. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to drag himself close +in to the fire, and take Gray Wolf with him, and listen to her voice, +and feel the touch of her hand. But the man was there, and to him man +had always meant the club, the whip, pain, death.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf crouched close to his side, and whined softly as she urged +Kazan to flee deeper with her into the forest. At last she understood +that he could not move, and she ran nervously out into the plain, and +back again, until her footprints were thick in the trail she made. The +instincts of matehood were strong in her. It was she who first saw +Pierre Radisson coming over their trail, and she ran swiftly back to +Kazan and gave the warning.</p> + +<p>Then Kazan caught the scent, and he saw the shadowy figure coming +through the starlight. He tried to drag himself back, but he could move +only by inches. The man came rapidly nearer. Kazan caught the glisten of +the rifle in his hand. He heard his hollow cough, and the tread of his +feet in the snow. Gray Wolf crouched shoulder to shoulder with him, +trembling and showing her teeth. When Pierre had approached within fifty +feet of them she slunk back into the deeper shadows of the spruce.</p> + +<p>Kazan's fangs were bared menacingly when Pierre stopped and looked down +at him. With an effort he dragged himself to his feet, but fell back +into the snow again. The man leaned his rifle against a sapling and bent +over him fearlessly. With a fierce growl Kazan snapped at his extended +hands. To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club. He +held out his hand again—cautiously—and spoke in a voice new to Kazan. +The dog snapped again, and growled.</p> + +<p>The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened +hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it. +Again and again the man reached out his hand, and three times Kazan felt +the touch of it, and there was neither threat nor hurt in it. At last +Pierre turned away and went back over the trail.</p> + +<p>When he was out of sight and hearing, Kazan whined, and the crest along +his spine flattened. He looked wistfully toward the glow of the fire. +The man had not hurt him, and the three-quarters of him that was dog +wanted to follow.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf came back, and stood with stiffly planted forefeet at his +side. She had never been this near to man before, except when the pack +had overtaken the sledge out on the plain. She could not understand. +Every instinct that was in her warned her that he was the most dangerous +of all things, more to be feared than the strongest beasts, the storms, +the floods, cold and starvation. And yet this man had not harmed her +mate. She sniffed at Kazan's back and head, where the mittened hand had +touched. Then she trotted back into the darkness again, for beyond the +edge of the forest she once more saw moving life.</p> + +<p>The man was returning, and with him was the girl. Her voice was soft +and sweet, and there was about her the breath and sweetness of woman. +The man stood prepared, but not threatening.</p> + +<p>"Be careful, Joan," he warned.</p> + +<p>She dropped on her knees in the snow, just out of reach.</p> + +<p>"Come, boy—come!" she said gently. She held out her hand. Kazan's +muscles twitched. He moved an inch—two inches toward her. There was the +old light in her eyes and face now, the love and gentleness he had known +once before, when another woman with shining hair and eyes had come into +his life. "Come!" she whispered as she saw him move, and she bent a +little, reached a little farther with her hand, and at last touched his +head.</p> + +<p>Pierre knelt beside her. He was proffering something, and Kazan smelled +meat. But it was the girl's hand that made him tremble and shiver, and +when she drew back, urging him to follow her, he dragged himself +painfully a foot or two through the snow. Not until then did the girl +see his mangled leg. In an instant she had forgotten all caution, and +was down close at his side.</p> + +<p>"He can't walk," she cried, a sudden tremble in her voice. "Look, <i>mon +père!</i> Here is a terrible cut. We must carry him."</p> + +<p>"I guessed that much," replied Radisson. "For that reason I brought the +blanket. <i>Mon Dieu</i>, listen to that!"</p> + +<p>From the darkness of the forest there came a low wailing cry.</p> + +<p>Kazan lifted his head and a trembling whine answered in his throat. It +was Gray Wolf calling to him.</p> + +<p>It was a miracle that Pierre Radisson should put the blanket about +Kazan, and carry him in to the camp, without scratch or bite. It was +this miracle that he achieved, with Joan's arm resting on Kazan's shaggy +neck as she held one end of the blanket. They laid him down close to the +fire, and after a little it was the man again who brought warm water and +washed away the blood from the torn leg, and then put something on it +that was soft and warm and soothing, and finally bound a cloth about it.</p> + +<p>All this Was strange and new to Kazan. Pierre's hand, as well as the +girl's, stroked his head. It was the man who brought him a gruel of meal +and tallow, and urged him to eat, while Joan sat with her chin in her +two hands, looking at the dog, and talking to him. After this, when he +was quite comfortable, and no longer afraid, he heard a strange small +cry from the furry bundle on the sledge that brought his head up with a +jerk.</p> + +<p>Joan saw the movement, and heard the low answering whimper in his +throat. She turned quickly to the bundle, talking and cooing to it as +she took it in her arms, and then she pulled back the bearskin so that +Kazan could see. He had never seen a baby before, and Joan held it out +before him, so that he could look straight at it and see what a +wonderful creature it was. Its little pink face stared steadily at +Kazan. Its tiny fists reached out, and it made queer little sounds at +him, and then suddenly it kicked and screamed with delight and laughed. +At those sounds Kazan's whole body relaxed, and he dragged himself to +the girl's feet.</p> + +<p>"See, he likes the baby!" she cried. "<i>Mon père</i>, we must give him a +name. What shall it be?"</p> + +<p>"Wait till morning for that," replied the father. "It is late, Joan. Go +into the tent, and sleep. We have no dogs now, and will travel slowly. +So we must start early."</p> + +<p>With her hand on the tent-flap, Joan, turned.</p> + +<p>"He came with the wolves," she said. "Let us call him Wolf." With one +arm she was holding the little Joan. The other she stretched out to +Kazan. "Wolf! Wolf!" she called softly.</p> + +<p>Kazan's eyes were on her. He knew that she was speaking to him, and he +drew himself a foot toward her.</p> + +<p>"He knows it already!" she cried. "Good night, <i>mon père</i>."</p> + +<p>For a long time after she had gone into the tent, old Pierre Radisson +sat on the edge of the sledge, facing the fire, with Kazan at his feet. +Suddenly the silence was broken again by Gray Wolf's lonely howl deep in +the forest. Kazan lifted his head and whined.</p> + +<p>"She's calling for you, boy," said Pierre understandingly.</p> + +<p>He coughed, and clutched a hand to his breast, where the pain seemed +rending him.</p> + +<p>"Frost-bitten lung," he said, speaking straight at Kazan. "Got it early +in the winter, up at Fond du Lac. Hope we'll get home—in time—with the +kids."</p> + +<p>In the loneliness and emptiness of the big northern wilderness one falls +into the habit of talking to one's self. But Kazan's head was alert, and +his eyes watchful, so Pierre spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"We've got to get them home, and there's only you and me to do it," he +said, twisting his beard. Suddenly he clenched his fists.</p> + +<p>His hollow racking cough convulsed him again.</p> + +<p>"Home!" he panted, clutching his chest. "It's eighty miles straight +north—to the Churchill—and I pray to God we'll get there—with the +kids—before my lungs give out."</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet, and staggered a little as he walked. There was a +collar about Kazan's neck, and he chained him to the sledge. After that +he dragged three or four small logs upon the fire, and went quietly into +the tent where Joan and the baby were already asleep. Several times +that night Kazan heard the distant voice of Gray Wolf calling for him, +but something told him that he must not answer it now. Toward dawn Gray +Wolf came close in to the camp, and for the first time Kazan replied to +her.</p> + +<p>His howl awakened the man. He came out of the tent, peered for a few +moments up at the sky, built up the fire, and began to prepare +breakfast. He patted Kazan on the head, and gave him a chunk of meat. +Joan came out a few moments later, leaving the baby asleep in the tent. +She ran up and kissed Pierre, and then dropped down on her knees beside +Kazan, and talked to him almost as he had heard her talk to the baby. +When she jumped up to help her father, Kazan followed her, and when Joan +saw him standing firmly upon his legs she gave a cry of pleasure.</p> + +<p>It was a strange journey that began into the North that day. Pierre +Radisson emptied the sledge of everything but the tent, blankets, food +and the furry nest for baby Joan. Then he harnessed himself in the +traces and dragged the sledge over the snow. He coughed incessantly.</p> + +<p>"It's a cough I've had half the winter," lied Pierre, careful that Joan +saw no sign of blood on his lips or beard. "I'll keep in the cabin for a +week when we get home."</p> + +<p>Even Kazan, with that strange beast knowledge which man, unable to +explain, calls instinct, knew that what he said was not the truth. +Perhaps it was largely because he had heard other men cough like this, +and that for generations his sledge-dog ancestors had heard men cough as +Radisson coughed—and had learned what followed it.</p> + +<p>More than once he had scented death in tepees and cabins, which he had +not entered, and more than once he had sniffed at the mystery of death +that was not quite present, but near—just as he had caught at a +distance the subtle warning of storm and of fire. And that strange thing +seemed to be very near to him now, as he followed at the end of his +chain behind the sledge. It made him restless, and half a dozen times, +when the sledge stopped, he sniffed at the bit of humanity buried in the +bearskin. Each time that he did this Joan was quickly at his side, and +twice she patted his scarred and grizzled head until every drop of +blood in his body leaped riotously with a joy which his body did not +reveal.</p> + +<p>This day the chief thing that he came to understand was that the little +creature on the sledge was very precious to the girl who stroked his +head and talked to him, and that it was very helpless. He learned, too, +that Joan was most delighted, and that her voice was softer and thrilled +him more deeply, when he paid attention to that little, warm, living +thing in the bearskin.</p> + +<p>For a long time after they made camp Pierre Radisson sat beside the +fire. To-night he did not smoke. He stared straight into the flames. +When at last he rose to go into the tent with the girl and the baby, he +bent over Kazan and examined his hurt.</p> + +<p>"You've got to work in the traces to-morrow, boy," he said. "We must +make the river by to-morrow night. If we don't—"</p> + +<p>He did not finish. He was choking back one of those tearing coughs when +the tent-flap dropped behind him. Kazan lay stiff and alert, his eyes +filled with a strange anxiety. He did not like to see Radisson enter the +tent, for stronger than ever there hung that oppressive mystery in the +air about him, and it seemed to be a part of Pierre.</p> + +<p>Three times that night he heard faithful Gray Wolf calling for him deep +in the forest, and each time he answered her. Toward dawn she came in +close to camp. Once he caught the scent of her when she circled around +in the wind, and he tugged and whined at the end of his chain, hoping +that she would come in and lie down at his side. But no sooner had +Radisson moved in the tent than Gray Wolf was gone. The man's face was +thinner, and his eyes were redder this morning. His cough was not so +loud or so rending. It was like a wheeze, as if something had given way +inside, and before the girl came out he clutched his hands often at his +throat. Joan's face whitened when she saw him. Anxiety gave way to fear +in her eyes. Pierre Radisson laughed when she flung her arms about him, +and coughed to prove that what he said was true.</p> + +<p>"You see the cough is not so bad, my Joan," he said. "It is breaking up. +You can not have forgotten, <i>ma cheri</i>? It always leaves one red-eyed +and weak."</p> + +<p>It was a cold bleak dark day that followed, and through it Kazan and +the man tugged at the fore of the sledge, with Joan following in the +trail behind. Kazan's wound no longer hurt him. He pulled steadily with +all his splendid strength, and the man never lashed him once, but patted +him with his mittened hand on head and back. The day grew steadily +darker and in the tops of the trees there was the low moaning of a +storm.</p> + +<p>Darkness and the coming of the storm did not drive Pierre Radisson into +camp. "We must reach the river," he said to himself over and over again. +"We must reach the river—we must reach the river—" And he steadily +urged Kazan on to greater effort, while his own strength at the end of +the traces grew less.</p> + +<p>It had begun to storm when Pierre stopped to build a fire at noon. The +snow fell straight down in a white deluge so thick that it hid the tree +trunks fifty yards away. Pierre laughed when Joan shivered and snuggled +close up to him with the baby in her arms. He waited only an hour, and +then fastened Kazan in the traces again, and buckled the straps once +more about his own waist. In the silent gloom that was almost night +Pierre carried his compass in his hand, and at last, late in the +afternoon, they came to a break in the timber-line, and ahead of them +lay a plain, across which Radisson pointed an exultant hand.</p> + +<p>"There's the river, Joan," he said, his voice faint and husky. "We can +camp here now and wait for the storm to pass."</p> + +<p>Under a thick clump of spruce he put up the tent, and then began +gathering fire-wood. Joan helped him. As soon as they had boiled coffee +and eaten a supper of meat and toasted biscuits, Joan went into the tent +and dropped exhausted on her thick bed of balsam boughs, wrapping +herself and the baby up close in the skins and blankets. To-night she +had no word for Kazan. And Pierre was glad that she was too tired to sit +beside the fire and talk. And yet—</p> + +<p>Kazan's alert eyes saw Pierre start suddenly. He rose from his seat on +the sledge and went to the tent. He drew back the flap and thrust in his +head and shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Asleep, Joan?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Almost, father. Won't you please come—soon?"</p> + +<p>"After I smoke," he said. "Are you comfortable?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm so tired—and—sleepy—"</p> + +<p>Pierre laughed softly. In the darkness he was gripping at his throat.</p> + +<p>"We're almost home, Joan. That is our river out there—the Little +Beaver. If I should run away and leave you to-night you could follow it +right to our cabin. It's only forty miles. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—I know—"</p> + +<p>"Forty miles—straight down the river. You couldn't lose yourself, Joan. +Only you'd have to be careful of air-holes in the ice."</p> + +<p>"Won't you come to bed, father? You're tired—and almost sick."</p> + +<p>"Yes—after I smoke," he repeated. "Joan, will you keep reminding me +to-morrow of the air-holes? I might forget. You can always tell them, +for the snow and the crust over them are whiter than that on the rest of +the ice, and like a sponge. Will you remember—the airholes—"</p> + +<p>"Yes-s-s-s—"</p> + +<p>Pierre dropped the tent-flap and returned to the fire. He staggered as +he walked.</p> + +<p>"Good night, boy," he said. "Guess I'd better go in with the kids. Two +days more—forty miles—two days—"</p> + +<p>Kazan watched him as he entered the tent. He laid his weight against the +end of his chain until the collar shut off his wind. His legs and back +twitched. In that tent where Radisson had gone were Joan and the baby. +He knew that Pierre would not hurt them, but he knew also that with +Pierre Radisson something terrible and impending was hovering very near +to them. He wanted the man outside—by the fire—where he could lie +still, and watch him.</p> + +<p>In the tent there was silence. Nearer to him than before came Gray +Wolf's cry. Each night she was calling earlier, and coming closer to the +camp. He wanted her very near to him to-night, but he did not even whine +in response. He dared not break that strange silence in the tent. He lay +still for a long time, tired and lame from the day's journey, but +sleepless. The fire burned lower; the wind in the tree-tops died away; +and the thick gray clouds rolled like a massive curtain from under the +skies. The stars began to glow white and metallic, and from far in the +North there came faintly a crisping moaning sound, like steel +sleigh-runners running over frosty snow—the mysterious monotone of the +Northern Lights. After that it grew steadily and swiftly colder.</p> + +<p>To-night Gray Wolf did not compass herself by the direction of the wind. +She followed like a sneaking shadow over the trail Pierre Radisson had +made, and when Kazan heard her again, long after midnight, he lay with, +his head erect, and his body rigid, save for a curious twitching of his +muscles. There was a new note in Gray Wolf's voice, a wailing note in +which there was more than the mate-call. It was The Message. And at the +sound of it Kazan rose from out of his silence and his fear, and with +his head turned straight up to the sky he howled as the wild dogs of the +North howl before the tepees of masters who are newly dead.</p> + +<p>Pierre Radisson was dead.</p> + + + + +<a name="7"></a> +<h2>Chapter VII</h2> + +<h3>Out Of The Blizzard</h3> + +<p>It was dawn when the baby snuggled close to Joan's warm breast and +awakened her with its cry of hunger. She opened her eyes, brushed back +the thick hair from her face, and could see where the shadowy form of +her father was lying at the other side of the tent. He was very quiet, +and she was pleased that he was still sleeping. She knew that the day +before he had been very near to exhaustion, and so for half an hour +longer she lay quiet, cooing softly to the baby Joan. Then she arose +cautiously, tucked the baby in the warm blankets and furs, put on her +heavier garments, and went outside.</p> + +<p>By this time it was broad day, and she breathed a sigh of relief when +she saw that the storm had passed. It was bitterly cold. It seemed to +her that she had never known it to be so cold in all her life. The fire +was completely out. Kazan was huddled in a round ball, his nose tucked +under his body. He raised his head, shivering, as Joan came out. With +her heavily moccasined foot Joan scattered the ashes and charred sticks +where the fire had been. There was not a spark left. In returning to the +tent she stopped for a moment beside Kazan, and patted his shaggy head.</p> + +<p>"Poor Wolf!" she said. "I wish I had given you one of the bearskins!"</p> + +<p>She threw back the tent-flap and entered. For the first time she saw her +father's face in the light—and outside, Kazan heard the terrible +moaning cry that broke from her lips. No one could have looked at Pierre +Radisson's face once—and not have understood.</p> + +<p>After that one agonizing cry, Joan flung herself upon her father's +breast, sobbing so softly that even Kazan's sharp ears heard no sound. +She remained there in her grief until every vital energy of womanhood +and motherhood in her girlish body was roused to action by the wailing +cry of baby Joan. Then she sprang to her feet and ran out through the +tent opening. Kazan tugged at the end of his chain to meet her, but she +saw nothing of him now. The terror of the wilderness is greater than +that of death, and in an instant it had fallen upon Joan. It was not +because of fear for herself. It was the baby. The wailing cries from the +tent pierced her like knife-thrusts.</p> + +<p>And then, all at once, there came to her what old Pierre had said the +night before—his words about the river, the air-holes, the home forty +miles away. "<i>You couldn't lose yourself, Joan</i>" He had guessed what +might happen.</p> + +<p>She bundled the baby deep in the furs and returned to the fire-bed. Her +one thought now was that they must have fire. She made a little pile of +birch-bark, covered it with half-burned bits of wood, and went into the +tent for the matches. Pierre Radisson carried them in a water-proof box +in a pocket of his bearskin coat. She sobbed as she kneeled beside him +again, and obtained the box. As the fire flared up she added other bits +of wood, and then some of the larger pieces that Pierre had dragged into +camp. The fire gave her courage. Forty miles—and the river led to their +home! She must make that, with the baby and Wolf. For the first time +she turned to him, and spoke his name as she put her hand on his head. +After that she gave him a chunk of meat which she thawed out over the +fire, and melted the snow for tea. She was not hungry, but she recalled +how her father had made her eat four or five times a day, so she forced +herself to make a breakfast of a biscuit, a shred of meat and as much +hot tea as she could drink.</p> + +<p>The terrible hour she dreaded followed that. She wrapped blankets +closely about her father's body, and tied them with babiche cord. After +that she piled all the furs and blankets that remained on the sledge +close to the fire, and snuggled baby Joan deep down in them. Pulling +down the tent was a task. The ropes were stiff and frozen, and when she +had finished, one of her hands was bleeding. She piled the tent on the +sledge, and then, half, covering her face, turned and looked back.</p> + +<p>Pierre Radisson lay on his balsam bed, with nothing over him now but the +gray sky and the spruce-tops. Kazan stood stiff-legged and sniffed the +air. His spine bristled when Joan went back slowly and kneeled beside +the blanket-wrapped object. When she returned to him her face was white +and tense, and now there was a strange and terrible look in her eyes as +she stared out across the barren. She put him in the traces, and +fastened about her slender waist the strap that Pierre had used. Thus +they struck out for the river, floundering knee-deep in the freshly +fallen and drifted snow. Half-way Joan stumbled in a drift and fell, her +loose hair flying in a shimmering veil over the snow. With a mighty pull +Kazan was at her side, and his cold muzzle touched her face as she drew +herself to her feet. For a moment Joan took his shaggy head between her +two hands.</p> + +<p>"Wolf!" she moaned. "Oh, Wolf!"</p> + +<p>She went on, her breath coming pantingly now, even from her brief +exertion. The snow was not so deep on the ice of the river. But a wind +was rising. It came from the north and east, straight in her face, and +Joan bowed her head as she pulled with Kazan. Half a mile down the river +she stopped, and no longer could she repress the hopelessness that rose +to her lips in a sobbing choking cry. Forty miles! She clutched her +hands at her breast, and stood breathing like one who had been beaten, +her back to the wind. The baby was quiet. Joan went back and peered down +under the furs, and what she saw there spurred her on again almost +fiercely. Twice she stumbled to her knees in the drifts during the next +quarter of a mile.</p> + +<p>After that there was a stretch of wind-swept ice, and Kazan pulled the +sledge alone. Joan walked at his side. There was a pain in her chest. A +thousand needles seemed pricking her face, and suddenly she remembered +the thermometer. She exposed it for a time on the top of the tent. When +she looked at it a few minutes later it was thirty degrees below zero. +Forty miles! And her father had told her that she could make it—and +could not lose herself! But she did not know that even her father would +have been afraid to face the north that day, with the temperature at +thirty below, and a moaning wind bringing the first warning of a +blizzard.</p> + +<p>The timber was far behind her now. Ahead there was nothing but the +pitiless barren, and the timber beyond that was hidden by the gray gloom +of the day. If there had been trees, Joan's heart would not have choked +so with terror. But there was nothing—nothing but that gray ghostly +gloom, with the rim of the sky touching the earth a mile away.</p> + +<p>The snow grew heavy under her feet again. Always she was watching for +those treacherous, frost-coated traps in the ice her father had spoken +of. But she found now that all the ice and snow looked alike to her, and +that there was a growing pain back of her eyes. It was the intense cold.</p> + +<p>The river widened into a small lake, and here the wind struck her in the +face with such force that her weight was taken from the strap, and Kazan +dragged the sledge alone. A few inches of snow impeded her as much as a +foot had done before. Little by little she dropped back. Kazan forged to +her side, every ounce of his magnificent strength in the traces. By the +time they were on the river channel again, Joan was at the back of the +sledge, following in the trail made by Kazan. She was powerless to help +him. She felt more and more the leaden weight of her legs. There was but +one hope—and that was the forest. If they did not reach it soon, within +half an hour, she would be able to go no farther. Over and over again +she moaned a prayer for her baby as she struggled on. She fell in the +snow-drifts. Kazan and the sledge became only a dark blotch to her. And +then, all at once, she saw that they were leaving her. They were not +more than twenty feet ahead of her—but the blotch seemed to be a vast +distance away. Every bit of life and strength in her body was now bent +upon reaching the sledge—and baby Joan.</p> + +<p>It seemed an interminable time before she gained. With the sledge only +six feet ahead of her she struggled for what seemed to her to be an hour +before she could reach out and touch it. With a moan she flung herself +forward, and fell upon it. She no longer heard the wailing of the storm. +She no longer felt discomfort. With her face in the furs under which +baby Joan was buried, there came to her with swiftness and joy a vision +of warmth and home. And then the vision faded away, and was followed by +deep night.</p> + +<p>Kazan stopped in the trail. He came back then and sat down upon his +haunches beside her, waiting for her to move and speak. But she was +very still. He thrust his nose into her loose hair. A whine rose in his +throat, and suddenly he raised his head and sniffed in the face of the +wind. Something came to him with that wind. He muzzled Joan again, hut +she did not stir. Then he went forward, and stood in his traces, ready +for the pull, and looked hack at her. Still she did not move or speak, +and Kazan's whine gave place to a sharp excited bark.</p> + +<p>The strange thing in the wind came to him stronger for a moment. He +began to pull. The sledge-runners had frozen to the snow, and it took +every ounce of his strength to free them. Twice during the next five +minutes he stopped and sniffed the air. The third time that he halted, +in a drift of snow, he returned to Joan's side again, and whined to +awaken her. Then he tugged again at the end of his traces, and foot by +foot he dragged the sledge through the drift. Beyond the drift there was +a stretch of clear ice, and here Kazan rested. During a lull in the wind +the scent came to him stronger than before.</p> + +<p>At the end of the clear ice was a narrow break in the shore, where a +creek ran into the main stream. If Joan had been conscious she would +have urged him straight ahead. But Kazan turned into the break, and for +ten minutes he struggled through the snow without a rest, whining more +and more frequently, until at last the whine broke into a joyous bark. +Ahead of him, close to the creek, was a small cabin. Smoke was rising +out of the chimney. It was the scent of smoke that had come to him in +the wind. A hard level slope reached to the cabin door, and with the +last strength that was in him Kazan dragged his burden up that. Then he +settled himself back beside Joan, lifted his shaggy head to the dark sky +and howled.</p> + +<p>A moment later the door opened. A man came out. Kazan's reddened, +snow-shot eyes followed him watchfully as he ran to the sledge. He heard +his startled exclamation as he bent over Joan. In another lull of the +wind there came from out of the mass of furs on the sledge the wailing, +half-smothered voice of baby Joan.</p> + +<p>A deep sigh of relief heaved up from Kazan's chest. He was exhausted. +His strength was gone. His feet were torn and bleeding. But the voice +of baby Joan filled him with a strange happiness, and he lay down in his +traces, while the man carried Joan and the baby into the life and warmth +of the cabin.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later the man reappeared. He was not old, like Pierre +Radisson. He came close to Kazan, and looked down at him.</p> + +<p>"My God," he said. "And you did that—<i>alone!</i>"</p> + +<p>He bent down fearlessly, unfastened him from the traces, and led him +toward the cabin door. Kazan hesitated but once—almost on the +threshold. He turned his head, swift and alert. From out of the moaning +and wailing of the storm it seemed to him that for a moment he had heard +the voice of Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Then the cabin door closed behind him.</p> + +<p>Back in a shadowy corner of the cabin he lay, while the man prepared +something over a hot stove for Joan. It was a long time before Joan rose +from the cot on which the man had placed her. After that Kazan heard her +sobbing; and then the man made her eat, and for a time they talked. Then +the stranger hung up a big blanket in front of the bunk, and sat down +close to the stove. Quietly Kazan slipped along the wall, and crept +under the bunk. For a long time he could hear the sobbing breath of the +girl. Then all was still.</p> + +<p>The next morning he slipped out through the door when the man opened it, +and sped swiftly into the forest. Half a mile away he found the trail of +Gray Wolf, and called to her. From the frozen river came her reply, and +he went to her.</p> + +<p>Vainly Gray Wolf tried to lure him back into their old haunts—away from +the cabin and the scent of man. Late that morning the man harnessed his +dogs, and from the fringe of the forest Kazan saw him tuck Joan and the +baby among the furs on the sledge, as old Pierre had done. All that day +he followed in the trail of the team, with Gray Wolf slinking behind +him. They traveled until dark; and then, under the stars and the moon +that had followed the storm, the man still urged on his team. It was +deep in the night when they came to another cabin, and the man beat upon +the door. A light, the opening of the door, the joyous welcome of a +man's voice, Joan's sobbing cry—Kazan heard these from the shadows in +which he was hidden, and then slipped back to Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>In the days and weeks that followed Joan's home-coming the lure of the +cabin and of the woman's hand held Kazan. As he had tolerated Pierre, so +now he tolerated the younger man who lived with Joan and the baby. He +knew that the man was very dear to Joan, and that the baby was very dear +to him, as it was to the girl. It was not until the third day that Joan +succeeded in coaxing him into the cabin—and that was the day on which +the man returned with the dead and frozen body of Pierre. It was Joan's +husband who first found the name on the collar he wore, and they began +calling him Kazan.</p> + +<p>Half a mile away, at the summit of a huge mass of rock which the Indians +called the Sun Rock, he and Gray Wolf had found a home; and from here +they went down to their hunts on the plain, and often the girl's voice +reached up to them, calling, "<i>Kazan! Kazan! Kazan</i>!"</p> + +<p>Through all the long winter Kazan hovered thus between the lure of Joan +and the cabin—and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Then came Spring—and the Great Change.</p> + + + + +<a name="8"></a> +<h2>Chapter VIII</h2> + +<h3>The Great Change</h3> + +<p>The rocks, the ridges and the valleys were taking on a warmer glow. The +poplar buds were ready to burst. The scent of balsam and of spruce grew +heavier in the air each day, and all through the wilderness, in plain +and forest, there was the rippling murmur of the spring floods finding +their way to Hudson's Bay. In that great bay there was the rumble and +crash of the ice fields thundering down in the early break-up through +the Roes Welcome—the doorway to the Arctic, and for that reason there +still came with the April wind an occasional sharp breath of winter.</p> + +<p>Kazan had sheltered himself against that wind. Not a breath of air +stirred in the sunny spot the wolf-dog had chosen for himself. He was +more comfortable than he had been at any time during the six months of +terrible winter—and as he slept he dreamed.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf, his wild mate, lay near him, flat on her belly, her forepaws +reaching out, her eyes and nostrils as keen and alert as the smell of +man could make them. For there was that smell of man, as well as of +balsam and spruce, in the warm spring air. She gazed anxiously and +sometimes steadily, at Kazan as he slept. Her own gray spine stiffened +when she saw the tawny hair along Kazan's back bristle at some dream +vision. She whined softly as his upper lip snarled back, showing his +long white fangs. But for the most part Kazan lay quiet, save for the +muscular twitchings of legs, shoulders and muzzle, which always tell +when a dog is dreaming; and as he dreamed there came to the door of the +cabin out on the plain a blue-eyed girl-woman, with a big brown braid +over her shoulder, who called through the cup of her hands, "Kazan, +Kazan, Kazan!"</p> + +<p>The voice reached faintly to the top of the Sun Rock, and Gray Wolf +flattened her ears. Kazan stirred, and in another instant he was awake +and on his feet. He leaped to an outcropping ledge, sniffing the air and +looking far out over the plain that lay below them.</p> + +<p>Over the plain the woman's voice came to them again, and Kazan ran to +the edge of the rock and whined. Gray Wolf stepped softly to his side +and laid her muzzle on his shoulder. She had grown to know what the +Voice meant. Day and night she feared it, more than she feared the scent +or sound of man.</p> + +<p>Since she had given up the pack and her old life for Kazan, the Voice +had become Gray Wolf's greatest enemy, and she hated it. It took Kazan +from her. And wherever it went, Kazan followed.</p> + +<p>Night after night it robbed her of her mate, and left her to wander +alone under the stars and the moon, keeping faithfully to her +loneliness, and never once responding with her own tongue to the +hunt-calls of her wild brothers and sisters in the forests and out on +the plains. Usually she would snarl at the Voice, and sometimes nip +Kazan lightly to show her displeasure. But to-day, as the Voice came a +third time, she slunk back into the darkness of a fissure between two +rocks, and Kazan saw only the fiery glow of her eyes.</p> + +<p>Kazan ran nervously to the trail their feet had worn up to the top of +the Sun Rock, and stood undecided. All day, and yesterday, he had been +uneasy and disturbed. Whatever it was that stirred him seemed to be in +the air, for he could not see it or hear it or scent it. But he could +<i>feel</i> it. He went to the fissure and sniffed at Gray Wolf. Usually she +whined coaxingly. But her response to-day was to draw back her lips +until he could see her white fangs.</p> + +<p>A fourth tune the Voice came to them faintly, and she snapped fiercely +at some unseen thing in the darkness between the two rocks. Kazan went +again to the trail, still hesitating. Then he began to go down. It was a +narrow winding trail, worn only by the pads and claws of animals, for +the Sun Rock was a huge crag that rose almost sheer up for a hundred +feet above the tops of the spruce and balsam, its bald crest catching +the first gleams of the sun in the morning and the last glow of it in +the evening. Gray Wolf had first led Kazan to the security of the +retreat at the top of the rock.</p> + +<p>When he reached the bottom he no longer hesitated, but darted swiftly in +the direction of the cabin. Because of that instinct of the wild that +was still in him, he always approached the cabin with caution. He never +gave warning, and for a moment Joan was startled when she looked up from +her baby and saw Kazan's shaggy head and shoulders in the open door. The +baby struggled and kicked in her delight, and held out her two hands +with cooing cries to Kazan. Joan, too, held out a hand.</p> + +<p>"Kazan!" she cried softly. "Come in, Kazan!"</p> + +<p>Slowly the wild red light in Kazan's eyes softened. He put a forefoot on +the sill, and stood there, while the girl urged him again. Suddenly his +legs seemed to sink a little under him, his tail drooped and he slunk in +with that doggish air of having committed a crime. The creatures he +loved were in the cabin, but the cabin itself he hated. He hated all +cabins, for they all breathed of the club and the whip and bondage. Like +all sledge-dogs he preferred the open snow for a bed, and the +spruce-tops for shelter.</p> + +<p>Joan dropped her hand to his head, and at its touch there thrilled +through him that strange joy that was his reward for leaving Gray Wolf +and the wild. Slowly he raised his head until his black muzzle rested on +her lap, and he closed his eyes while that wonderful little creature +that mystified him so—the baby—prodded him with her tiny feet, and +pulled his tawny hair. He loved these baby-maulings even more than the +touch of Joan's hand.</p> + +<p>Motionless, sphinx-like, undemonstrative in every muscle of his body, +Kazan stood, scarcely breathing. More than once this lack of +demonstration had urged Joan's husband to warn her. But the wolf that +was in Kazan, his wild aloofness, even his mating with Gray Wolf had +made her love him more. She understood, and had faith in him.</p> + +<p>In the days of the last snow Kazan had proved himself. A neighboring +trapper had run over with his team, and the baby Joan had toddled up to +one of the big huskies. There was a fierce snap of jaws, a scream of +horror from Joan, a shout from the men as they leaped toward the pack. +But Kazan was ahead of them all. In a gray streak that traveled with the +speed of a bullet he was at the big husky's throat. When they pulled him +off, the husky was dead. Joan thought of that now, as the baby kicked +and tousled Kazan's head.</p> + +<p>"Good old Kazan," she cried softly, putting her face down close to him. +"We're glad you came, Kazan, for we're going to be alone to-night—baby +and I. Daddy's gone to the post, and you must care for us while he's +away."</p> + +<p>She tickled his nose with the end of her long shining braid. This always +delighted the baby, for in spite of his stoicism Kazan had to sniff and +sometimes to sneeze, and twig his ears. And it pleased him, too. He +loved the sweet scent of Joan's hair.</p> + +<p>"And you'd fight for us, if you had to, wouldn't you?" she went on. Then +she rose quietly. "I must close the door," she said. "I don't want you +to go away again to-day, Kazan. You must stay with us."</p> + +<p>Kazan went off to his corner, and lay down. Just as there had been some +strange thing at the top of the Sun Rock to disturb him that day, so now +there was a mystery that disturbed him in the cabin. He sniffed the air, +trying to fathom its secret. Whatever it was, it seemed to make his +mistress different, too. And she was digging out all sorts of odds and +ends of things about the cabin, and doing them up in packages. Late that +night, before she went to bed, Joan came and snuggled her hand close +down beside him for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"We're going away," she whispered, and there was a curious tremble that +was almost a sob in her voice. "We're going home, Kazan. We're going +away down where his people live—where they have churches, and cities, +and music, and all the beautiful things in the world. And we're going to +take <i>you</i>, Kazan!"</p> + +<p>Kazan didn't understand. But he was happy at having the woman so near to +him, and talking to him. At these times he forgot Gray Wolf. The dog +that was in him surged over his quarter-strain of wildness, and the +woman and the baby alone filled his world. But after Joan had gone to +her bed, and all was quiet in the cabin, his old uneasiness returned. He +rose to his feet and moved stealthily about the cabin, sniffing at the +walls, the door and the things his mistress had done into packages. A +low whine rose in his throat. Joan, half asleep, heard it, and murmured: +"Be quiet, Kazan. Go to sleep—go to sleep—"</p> + +<p>Long after that, Kazan stood rigid in the center of the room, listening, +trembling. And faintly he heard, far away, the wailing cry of, Gray +Wolf. But to-night it was not the cry of loneliness. It sent a thrill +through him. He ran to the door, and whined, but Joan was deep in +slumber and did not hear him. Once more he heard the cry, and only once. +Then the night grew still. He crouched down near the door.</p> + +<p>Joan found him there, still watchful, still listening, when she awoke in +the early morning. She came to open the door for him, and in a moment he +was gone. His feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth as he sped in the +direction of the Sun Rock. Across the plain he could see the cap of it +already painted with a golden glow.</p> + +<p>He came to the narrow winding trail, and wormed his way up it swiftly.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf was not at the top to greet him. But he could smell her, and +the scent of that other thing was strong in the air. His muscles +tightened; his legs grew tense. Deep down in his chest there began the +low rumble of a growl. He knew now what that strange thing was that had +haunted him, and made him uneasy. It was <i>life</i>. Something that lived +and breathed had invaded the home which he and Gray Wolf had chosen. He +bared his long fangs, and a snarl of defiance drew back his lips. +Stiff-legged, prepared to spring, his neck and head reaching out, he +approached the two rocks between which Gray Wolf had crept the night +before. She was still there. And with her was <i>something else</i>. After a +moment the tenseness left Kazan's body. His bristling crest drooped +until it lay flat. His ears shot forward, and he put his head and +shoulders between the two rocks, and whined softly. And Gray Wolf +whined. Slowly Kazan backed out, and faced the rising sun. Then he lay +down, so that his body shielded I the entrance to the chamber between +the rocks.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf was a mother.</p> + + + + +<a name="9"></a> +<h2>Chapter IX</h2> + +<h3>The Tragedy On Sun Rock</h3> + +<p>All that day Kazan guarded the top of the Sun Rock. Fate, and the fear +and brutality of masters, had heretofore kept him from fatherhood, and +he was puzzled. Something told him now that he belonged to the Sun Rock, +and not to the cabin. The call that came to him from over the plain was +not so strong. At dusk Gray Wolf came out from her retreat, and slunk to +his side, whimpering, and nipped gently at his shaggy neck. It was the +old instinct of his fathers that made him respond by caressing Gray +Wolf's face with his tongue. Then Gray Wolf's jaws opened, and she +laughed in short panting breaths, as if she had been hard run. She was +happy, and as they heard a little snuffling sound from between the +rocks, Kazan wagged his tail, and Gray Wolf darted back to her young.</p> + +<p>The babyish cry and its effect upon Gray Wolf taught Kazan his first +lesson in fatherhood. Instinct again told him that Gray Wolf could not +go down to the hunt with him now—that she must stay at the top of the +Sun Rock. So when the moon rose he went down alone, and toward dawn +returned with a big white rabbit between his jaws. It was the wild in +him that made him do this, and Gray Wolf ate ravenously. Then he knew +that each night hereafter he must hunt for Gray Wolf—and the little +whimpering creatures hidden between the two rocks.</p> + +<p>The next day, and still the next, he did not go to the cabin, though he +heard the voices of both the man and the woman calling him. On the fifth +he went down, and Joan and the baby were so glad that the woman hugged +him, and the baby kicked and laughed and screamed at him, while the man +stood by cautiously, watching their demonstrations with a gleam of +disapprobation in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid of him," he told Joan for the hundredth time. "That's the +wolf-gleam in his eyes. He's of a treacherous breed. Sometimes I wish +we'd never brought him home."</p> + +<p>"If we hadn't—where would the baby—have gone?" Joan reminded him, a +little catch in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I had almost forgotten that," said her husband. "Kazan, you old devil, +I guess I love you, too." He laid his hand caressingly on Kazan's head. +"Wonder how he'll take to life down there?" he asked. "He has always +been used to the forests. It'll seem mighty strange."</p> + +<p>"And so—have I—always been used to the forests," whispered Joan. "I +guess that's why I love Kazan—next to you and the baby. Kazan—dear old +Kazan!"</p> + +<p>This time Kazan felt and scented more of that mysterious change in the +cabin. Joan and her husband talked incessantly of their plans when they +were together; and when the man was away Joan talked to the baby, and to +him. And each time that he came down to the cabin during the week that +followed, he grew more and more restless, until at last the man noticed +the change in him.</p> + +<p>"I believe he knows," he said to Joan one evening. "I believe he knows +we're preparing to leave." Then he added: "The river was rising again +to-day. It will be another week before we can start, perhaps longer."</p> + +<p>That same night the moon flooded the top of the Sun Rock with a golden +light, and out into the glow of it came Gray Wolf, with her three little +whelps toddling behind her. There was much about these soft little balls +that tumbled about him and snuggled in his tawny coat that reminded +Kazan of the baby. At times they made the same queer, soft little +sounds, and they staggered about on their four little legs just as +helplessly as baby Joan made her way about on two. He did not fondle +them, as Gray Wolf did, but the touch of them, and their babyish +whimperings, filled him with a kind of pleasure that he had never +experienced before.</p> + +<p>The moon was straight above them, and the night was almost as bright as +day, when he went down again to hunt for Gray Wolf. At the foot of the +rock a big white rabbit popped up ahead of him, and he gave chase. For +half a mile he pursued, until the wolf instinct in him rose over the +dog, and he gave up the futile race. A deer he might have overtaken, but +small game the wolf must hunt as the fox hunts it, and he began to slip +through the thickets slowly and as quietly as a shadow. He was a mile +from the Sun Rock when two quick leaps put Gray Wolf's supper between +his jaws. He trotted back slowly, dropping the big seven-pound snow-shoe +hare now and then to rest.</p> + +<p>When he came to the narrow trail that led to the top of the Sun Rock he +stopped. In that trail was the warm scent of strange feet. The rabbit +fell from his jaws. Every hair in his body was suddenly electrified into +life. What he scented was not the scent of a rabbit, a marten or a +porcupine. Fang and claw had climbed the path ahead of him. And then, +coming faintly to him from the top of the rock, he heard sounds which +sent him up with a terrible whining cry. When he reached the summit he +saw in the white moonlight a scene that stopped him for a single moment. +Close to the edge of the sheer fall to the rocks, fifty feet below, Gray +Wolf was engaged in a death-struggle with a huge gray lynx. She was +down—and under, and from her there came a sudden sharp terrible cry of +pain.</p> + +<p>Kazan flew across the rock. His attack was the swift silent assault of +the wolf, combined with the greater courage, the fury and the strategy +of the husky. Another husky would have died in that first attack. But +the lynx was not a dog or a wolf. It was "Mow-lee, the swift," as the +Sarcees had named it—the quickest creature in the wilderness. Kazan's +inch-long fangs should have sunk deep in its jugular. But in a +fractional part of a second the lynx had thrown itself back like a huge +soft ball, and Kazan's teeth buried themselves in the flesh of its neck +instead of the jugular. And Kazan was not now fighting the fangs of a +wolf in the pack, or of another husky. He was fighting claws—claws that +ripped like twenty razor-edged knives, and which even a jugular hold +could not stop.</p> + +<p>Once he had fought a lynx in a trap, and he had not forgotten the lesson +the battle had taught him. He fought to pull the lynx <i>down</i>, instead of +forcing it on its back, as he would have done with another dog or a +wolf. He knew that when on its back the fierce cat was most dangerous. +One rip of its powerful hindfeet could disembowel him.</p> + +<p>Behind him he heard Gray Wolf sobbing and crying, and he knew that she +was terribly hurt. He was filled with the rage and strength of two dogs, +and his teeth met through the flesh and hide of the cat's throat. But +the big lynx escaped death by half an inch. It would take a fresh grip +to reach the jugular, and suddenly Kazan made the deadly lunge. There +was an instant's freedom for the lynx, and in that moment it flung +itself back, and Kazan gripped at its throat—<i>on top</i>.</p> + +<p>The cat's claws ripped through his flesh, cutting open his side—a +little too high to kill. Another stroke and they would have cut to his +vitals. But they had struggled close to the edge of the rock wall, and +suddenly, without a snarl or a cry, they rolled over. It was fifty or +sixty feet to the rocks of the ledge below, and even as they pitched +over and over in the fall, Kazan's teeth sank deeper. They struck with +terrific force, Kazan uppermost. The shock sent him half a dozen feet +from his enemy. He was up like a flash, dizzy, snarling, on the +defensive. The lynx lay limp and motionless where it had fallen. Kazan +came nearer, still prepared, and sniffed cautiously. Something told him +that the fight was over. He turned and dragged himself slowly along the +ledge to the trail, and returned to Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf was no longer in the moonlight. Close to the two rocks lay the +limp and lifeless little bodies of the three pups. The lynx had torn +them to pieces. With a whine of grief Kazan approached the two boulders +and thrust his head between them. Gray Wolf was there, crying to herself +in that terrible sobbing way. He went in, and began to lick her bleeding +shoulders and head. All the rest of that night she whimpered with pain. +With dawn she dragged herself out to the lifeless little bodies on the +rock.</p> + +<p>And then Kazan saw the terrible work of the lynx. For Gray Wolf was +blind—not for a day or a night, but blind for all time. A gloom that no +sun could break had become her shroud. And perhaps again it was that +instinct of animal creation, which often is more wonderful than man's +reason, that told Kazan what had happened. For he knew now that she was +helpless—more helpless than the little creatures that had gamboled in +the moonlight a few hours before. He remained close beside her all +that day.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="003.jpg" alt="[Illustration: Kazan gripped at its throat]" /></p> + +<p>Vainly that day did Joan call for Kazan. Her voice rose to the Sun Rock, +and Gray Wolf's head snuggled closer to Kazan, and Kazan's ears dropped +back, and he licked her wounds. Late in the afternoon Kazan left Gray +Wolf long enough to run to the bottom of the trail and bring up the +snow-shoe rabbit. Gray Wolf muzzled the fur and flesh, but would not +eat. Still a little later Kazan urged her to follow him to the trail. He +no longer wanted to stay at the top of the Sun Rock, and he no longer +wanted Gray Wolf to stay there. Step by step he drew her down the +winding path away from her dead puppies. She would move only when he was +very near her—so near that she could touch his scarred flank with her +nose.</p> + +<p>They came at last to the point in the trail where they had to leap down +a distance of three or four feet from the edge of a rock, and here Kazan +saw how utterly helpless Gray Wolf had become. She whined, and crouched +twenty times before she dared make the spring, and then she jumped +stiff-legged, and fell in a heap at Kazan's feet. After this Kazan did +not have to urge her so hard, for the fall impinged on her the fact that +she was safe only when her muzzle touched her mate's flank. She followed +him obediently when they reached the plain, trotting with her +foreshoulder to his hip.</p> + +<p>Kazan was heading for a thicket in the creek bottom half a mile away, +and a dozen times in that short distance Gray Wolf stumbled and fell. +And each time that she fell Kazan learned a little more of the +limitations of blindness. Once he sprang off in pursuit of a rabbit, but +he had not taken twenty leaps when he stopped and looked back. Gray Wolf +had not moved an inch. She stood motionless, sniffing the air—waiting +for him! For a full minute Kazan stood, also waiting. Then he returned +to her. Ever after this he returned to the point where he had left Gray +Wolf, knowing that he would find her there.</p> + +<p>All that day they remained in the thicket. In the afternoon he visited +the cabin. Joan and her husband were there, and both saw at once +Kazan's torn side and his lacerated head and shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Pretty near a finish fight for him," said the man, after he had +examined him. "It was either a lynx or a bear. Another wolf could not do +that."</p> + +<p>For half an hour Joan worked over him, talking to him all the time, and +fondling him with her soft hands. She bathed his wounds in warm water, +and then covered them with a healing salve, and Kazan was filled again +with that old restful desire to remain with her always, and never to go +back into the forests. For an hour she let him lie on the edge of her +dress, with his nose touching her foot, while she worked on baby things. +Then she rose to prepare supper, and Kazan got up—a little wearily—and +went to the door. Gray Wolf and the gloom of the night were calling him, +and he answered that call with a slouch of his shoulders and a drooping +head. Its old thrill was gone. He watched his chance, and went out +through the door. The moon had risen when he rejoined Gray Wolf. She +greeted his return with a low whine of joy, and muzzled him with her +blind face. In her helplessness she looked happier than Kazan in all his +strength.</p> + +<p>From now on, during the days that followed, it was a last great fight +between blind and faithful Gray Wolf and the woman. If Joan had known of +what lay in the thicket, if she could once have seen the poor creature +to whom Kazan was now all life—the sun, the stars, the moon, and +food—she would have helped Gray Wolf. But as it was she tried to lure +Kazan more and more to the cabin, and slowly she won.</p> + +<p>At last the great day came, eight days after the fight on the Sun Rock. +Kazan had taken Gray Wolf to a wooded point on the river two days +before, and there he had left her the preceding night when he went to +the cabin. This time a stout babiche thong was tied to the collar round +his neck, and he was fastened to a staple in the log wall. Joan and her +husband were up before it was light next day. The sun was just rising +when they all went out, the man carrying the baby, and Joan leading him. +Joan turned and locked the cabin door, and Kazan heard a sob in her +throat as they followed the man down to the river. The big canoe was +packed and waiting. Joan got in first, with the baby. Then, still +holding the babiche thong, she drew Kazan up close to her, so that he +lay with his weight against her.</p> + +<p>The sun fell warmly on Kazan's back as they shoved off, and he closed +his eyes, and rested his head on Joan's lap. Her hand fell softly on his +shoulder. He heard again that sound which the man could not hear, the +broken sob in her throat, as the canoe moved slowly down to the wooded +point.</p> + +<p>Joan waved her hand back at the cabin, just disappearing behind the +trees.</p> + +<p>"Good-by!" she cried sadly. "Good-by—" And then she buried her face +close down to Kazan and the baby, and sobbed.</p> + +<p>The man stopped paddling.</p> + +<p>"You're not sorry—Joan?" he asked.</p> + +<p>They were drifting past the point now, and the scent of Gray Wolf came +to Kazan's nostrils, rousing him, and bringing a low whine from his +throat.</p> + +<p>"You're not sorry—we're going?" Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied. "Only I've—always lived here—in the forests—and +they're—home!"</p> + +<p>The point with its white finger of sand, was behind them now. And Kazan +was standing rigid, facing it. The man called to him, and Joan lifted +her head. She, too, saw the point, and suddenly the babiche leash +slipped from her fingers, and a strange light leaped into her blue eyes +as she saw what stood at the end of that white tip of sand. It was Gray +Wolf. Her blind eyes were turned toward Kazan. At last Gray Wolf, the +faithful, understood. Scent told her what her eyes could not see. Kazan +and the man-smell were together. And they were going—going—going—</p> + +<p>"Look!" whispered Joan.</p> + +<p>The man turned. Gray Wolf's forefeet were in the water. And now, as the +canoe drifted farther and farther away, she settled back on her +haunches, raised her head to the sun which she could not see and gave +her last long wailing cry for Kazan.</p> + +<p>The canoe lurched. A tawny body shot through the air—and Kazan was +gone.</p> + +<p>The man reached forward for his rifle. Joan's hand stopped him. Her +face was white.</p> + +<p>"Let him go back to her! Let him go—let him go!" she cried. "It is his +place—with her."</p> + +<p>And Kazan reaching the shore, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and +looked for the last time toward the woman. The canoe was drifting slowly +around the first bend. A moment more and it had disappeared. Gray Wolf +had won.</p> + + + + +<a name="10"></a> +<h2>Chapter X</h2> + +<h3>The Days Of Fire</h3> + +<p>From the night of the terrible fight with the big gray lynx on the top +of the Sun Rock, Kazan remembered less and less vividly the old days +when he had been a sledge-dog, and the leader of a pack. He would never +quite forget them, and always there would stand out certain memories +from among the rest, like fires cutting the blackness of night. But as +man dates events from his birth, his marriage, his freedom from a +bondage, or some foundation-step in his career, so all things seemed to +Kazan to begin with two tragedies which had followed one fast upon the +other after the birth of Gray Wolf's pups.</p> + +<p>The first was the fight on the Sun Rock, when the big gray lynx had +blinded his beautiful wolf mate for all time, and had torn her pups into +pieces. He in turn had killed the lynx. But Gray Wolf was still blind. +Vengeance had not been able to give her sight. She could no longer hunt +with him, as they had hunted with the wild wolf-packs out on the plain, +and in the dark forests. So at thought of that night he always snarled, +and his lips curled back to reveal his inch-long fangs.</p> + +<p>The other tragedy was the going of Joan, her baby and her husband. +Something more infallible than reason told Kazan that they would not +come back. Brightest of all the pictures that remained with him was that +of the sunny morning when the woman and the baby he loved, and the man +he endured because of them, had gone away in the canoe, and often he +would go to the point, and gaze longingly down-stream, where he had +leaped from the canoe to return to his blind mate.</p> + +<p>So Kazan's life seemed now to be made up chiefly of three things: his +hatred of everything that bore the scent or mark of the lynx, his +grieving for Joan and the baby, and Gray Wolf. It was natural that the +strongest passion in him should be his hatred of the lynx, for not only +Gray Wolf's blindness and the death of the pups, but even the loss of +the woman and the baby he laid to that fatal struggle on the Sun Rock. +From that hour he became the deadliest enemy of the lynx tribe. Wherever +he struck the scent of the big gray cat he was turned into a snarling +demon, and his hatred grew day by day, as he became more completely a +part of the wild.</p> + +<p>He found that Gray Wolf was more necessary to him now than she had ever +been since the day she had left the wolf-pack for him. He was +three-quarters dog, and the dog-part of him demanded companionship. +There was only Gray Wolf to give him that now. They were alone. +Civilization was four hundred miles south of them. The nearest Hudson's +Bay post was sixty miles to the west. Often, in the days of the woman +and the baby, Gray Wolf had spent her nights alone out in the forest, +waiting and calling for Kazan. Now it was Kazan who was lonely and +uneasy when he was away from her side.</p> + +<p>In her blindness Gray Wolf could no longer hunt with her mate. But +gradually a new code of understanding grew up between them, and through +her blindness they learned many things that they had not known before. +By early summer Gray Wolf could travel with Kazan, if he did not move +too swiftly. She ran at his flank, with her shoulder or muzzle touching +him, and Kazan learned not to leap, but to trot. Very quickly he found +that he must choose the easiest trails for Gray Wolf's feet. When they +came to a space to be bridged by a leap, he would muzzle Gray Wolf and +whine, and she would stand with ears alert—listening. Then Kazan would +take the leap, and she understood the distance she had to cover. She +always over-leaped, which was a good fault.</p> + +<p>In another way, and one that was destined to serve them many times in +the future, she became of greater help than ever to Kazan. Scent and +hearing entirely took the place of sight. Each day developed these +senses more and more, and at the same time there developed between them +the dumb language whereby she could impress upon Kazan what she had +discovered by scent or sound. It became a curious habit of Kazan's +always to look at Gray Wolf when they stopped to listen, or to scent the +air.</p> + +<p>After the fight on the Sun Rock, Kazan had taken his blind mate to a +thick clump of spruce and balsam in the river-bottom, where they +remained until early summer. Every day for weeks Kazan went to the cabin +where Joan and the baby—and the man—had been. For a long time he went +hopefully, looking each day or night to see some sign of life there. But +the door was never open. The boards and saplings at the windows always +remained. Never a spiral of smoke rose from the clay chimney. Grass and +vines began to grow in the path. And fainter and fainter grew that scent +which Kazan could still find about it—the scent of man, of the woman, +the baby.</p> + +<p>One day he found a little baby moccasin under one of the closed windows. +It was old, and worn out, and blackened by snow and rain, but he lay +down beside it, and remained there for a long time, while the baby +Joan—a thousand miles away—was playing with the strange toys of +civilization. Then he returned to Gray Wolf among the spruce and balsam.</p> + +<p>The cabin was the one place to which Gray Wolf would not follow him. At +all other times she was at his side. Now that she had become accustomed +to blindness, she even accompanied him on his hunts, until he struck +game, and began the chase. Then she would wait for him. Kazan usually +hunted the big snow-shoe rabbits. But one night he ran down and killed a +young doe. The kill was too heavy to drag to Gray Wolf, so he returned +to where she was waiting for him and guided her to the feast. In many +ways they became more and more inseparable as the summer lengthened, +until at last, through all the wilderness, their footprints were always +two by two and never one by one.</p> + +<p>Then came the great fire.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf caught the scent of it when it was still two days to the west. +The sun that night went down in a lurid cloud. The moon, drifting into +the west, became blood red. When it dropped behind the wilderness in +this manner, the Indians called it the Bleeding Moon, and the air was +filled with omens.</p> + +<p>All the next day Gray Wolf was nervous, and toward noon Kazan caught in +the air the warning that she had sensed many hours ahead of him. +Steadily the scent grew stronger, and by the middle of the afternoon the +sun was veiled by a film of smoke.</p> + +<p>The flight of the wild things from the triangle of forest between the +junctions of the Pipestone and Cree Rivers would have begun then, but +the wind shifted. It was a fatal shift. The fire was raging from the +west and south. Then the wind swept straight eastward, carrying the +smoke with it, and during this breathing spell all the wild creatures in +the triangle between the two rivers waited. This gave the fire time to +sweep completely, across the base of the forest triangle, cutting off +the last trails of escape.</p> + +<p>Then the wind shifted again, and the fire swept north. The head of the +triangle became a death-trap. All through the night the southern sky was +filled with a lurid glow, and by morning the heat and smoke and ash were +suffocating.</p> + +<p>Panic-striken, Kazan searched vainly for a means of escape. Not for an +instant did he leave Gray Wolf. It would have been easy for him to swim +across either of the two streams, for he was three-quarters dog. But at +the first touch of water on her paws, Gray Wolf drew back, shrinking. +Like all her breed, she would face fire and death before water. Kazan +urged. A dozen times he leaped in, and swam out into the stream. But +Gray Wolf would come no farther than she could wade.</p> + +<p>They could hear the distant murmuring roar of the fire now. Ahead of it +came the wild things. Moose, caribou and deer plunged into the water of +the streams and swam to the safety of the opposite side. Out upon a +white finger of sand lumbered a big black bear with two cubs, and even +the cubs took to the water, and swam across easily. Kazan watched them, +and whined to Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>And then out upon that white finger of sand came other things that +dreaded the water as Gray Wolf dreaded it: a big fat porcupine, a sleek +little marten, a fisher-cat that sniffed the air and wailed like a +child. Those things that could not or would not swim outnumbered the +others three to one. Hundreds of little ermine scurried along the shore +like rats, their squeaking little voices sounding incessantly; foxes ran +swiftly along the banks, seeking a tree or a windfall that might bridge +the water for them; the lynx snarled and faced the fire; and Gray +Wolf's own tribe—the wolves—dared take no deeper step than she.</p> + +<p>Dripping and panting, and half choked by heat and smoke, Kazan came to +Gray Wolf's side. There was but one refuge left near them, and that was +the sand-bar. It reached out for fifty feet into the stream. Quickly he +led his blind mate toward it. As they came through the low bush to the +river-bed, something stopped them both. To their nostrils had come the +scent of a deadlier enemy than fire. A lynx had taken possession of the +sand-bar, and was crouching at the end of it. Three porcupines had +dragged themselves into the edge of the water, and lay there like balls, +their quills alert and quivering. A fisher-cat was snarling at the lynx. +And the lynx, with ears laid back, watched Kazan and Gray Wolf as they +began the invasion of the sand-bar.</p> + +<p>Faithful Gray Wolf was full of fight, and she sprang shoulder to +shoulder with Kazan, her fangs bared. With an angry snap, Kazan drove +her back, and she stood quivering and whining while he advanced. +Light-footed, his pointed ears forward, no menace or threat in his +attitude, he advanced. It was the deadly advance of the husky trained +in battle, skilled in the art of killing. A man from civilization would +have said that the dog was approaching the lynx with friendly +intentions. But the lynx understood. It was the old feud of many +generations—made deadlier now by Kazan's memory of that night at the +top of the Sun Rock.</p> + +<p>Instinct told the fisher-cat what was coming, and it crouched low and +flat; the porcupines, scolding like little children at the presence of +enemies and the thickening clouds of smoke, thrust their quills still +more erect. The lynx lay on its belly, like a cat, its hindquarters +twitching, and gathered for the spring. Kazan's feet seemed scarcely to +touch the sand as he circled lightly around it. The lynx pivoted as he +circled, and then it shot in a round snarling ball over the eight feet +of space that separated them.</p> + +<p>Kazan did not leap aside. He made no effort to escape the attack, but +met it fairly with the full force of his shoulders, as sledge-dog meets +sledge-dog. He was ten pounds heavier than the lynx, and for a moment +the big loose-jointed cat with its twenty knife-like claws was thrown +on its side. Like a flash Kazan took advantage of the moment, and drove +for the back of the cat's neck.</p> + +<p>In that same moment blind Gray Wolf leaped in with a snarling cry, and +fighting under Kazan's belly, she fastened her jaws in one of the cat's +hindlegs. The bone snapped. The lynx, twice outweighed, leaped backward, +dragging both Kazan and Gray Wolf. It fell back down on one of the +porcupines, and a hundred quills drove into its body. Another leap and +it was free—fleeing into the face of the smoke. Kazan did not pursue. +Gray Wolf came to his side and licked his neck, where fresh blood was +crimsoning his tawny hide. The fisher-cat lay as if dead, watching them +with fierce little black eyes. The porcupines continued to chatter, as +if begging for mercy. And then a thick black suffocating pall of smoke +drove low over the sand-bar and with it came air that was furnace-hot.</p> + +<p>At the uttermost end of the sand-bar Kazan and Gray Wolf rolled +themselves into balls and thrust their heads under their bodies. The +fire was very near now. The roar of it was like that of a great +cataract, with now and then a louder crash of falling trees. The air +was filled with ash and burning sparks, and twice Kazan drew forth his +head to snap at blazing embers that fell upon and seared him like hot +irons.</p> + +<p>Close along the edge of the stream grew thick green bush, and when the +fire reached this, it burned more slowly, and the heat grew less. Still, +it was a long time before Kazan and Gray Wolf could draw forth their +heads and breathe more freely. Then they found that the finger of sand +reaching out into the river had saved them. Everywhere in that triangle +between the two rivers the world had turned black, and was hot +underfoot.</p> + +<p>The smoke cleared away. The wind changed again, and swung down cool and +fresh from the west and north. The fisher-cat was the first to move +cautiously back to the forests that had been, but the porcupines were +still rolled into balls when Gray Wolf and Kazan left the sand-bar. They +began to travel up-stream, and before night came, their feet were sore +from hot ash and burning embers.</p> + +<p>The moon was strange and foreboding that night, like a spatter of blood +in the sky, and through the long silent hours there was not even the +hoot of an owl to give a sign that life still existed where yesterday +had been a paradise of wild things. Kazan knew that there was nothing to +hunt, and they continued to travel all that night. With dawn they struck +a narrow swamp along the edge of the stream. Here beavers had built a +dam, and they were able to cross over into the green country on the +opposite side. For another day and another night they traveled westward, +and this brought them into the thick country of swamp and timber along +the Waterfound.</p> + +<p>And as Kazan and Gray Wolf came from the west, there came from the +Hudson's Bay post to the east a slim dark-faced French half-breed by the +name of Henri Loti, the most famous lynx hunter in all the Hudson's Bay +country. He was prospecting for "signs," and he found them in abundance +along the Waterfound. It was a game paradise, and the snow-shoe rabbit +abounded in thousands. As a consequence, the lynxes were thick, and +Henri built his trapping shack, and then returned to the post to wait +until the first snows fell, when he would come back with his team, +supplies and traps.</p> + +<p>And up from the south, at this same time, there was slowly working his +way by canoe and trail a young university zoologist who was gathering +material for a book on <i>The Reasoning of the Wild</i>. His name was Paul +Weyman, and he had made arrangements to spend a part of the winter with +Henri Loti, the half-breed. He brought with him plenty of paper, a +camera and the photograph of a girl. His only weapon was a pocket-knife.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile Kazan and Gray Wolf found the home they were seeking in a +thick swamp five or six miles from the cabin that Henri Loti had built.</p> + + + + +<a name="11"></a> +<h2>Chapter XI</h2> + +<h3>Always Two By Two</h3> + +<p>It was January when a guide from the post brought Paul Weyman to Henri +Loti's cabin on the Waterfound. He was a man of thirty-two or three, +full of the red-blooded life that made Henri like him at once. If this +had not been the case, the first few days in the cabin might have been +unpleasant, for Henri was in bad humor. He told Weyman about it their +first night, as they were smoking pipes alongside the redly glowing box +stove.</p> + +<p>"It is damn strange," said Henri. "I have lost seven lynx in the traps, +torn to pieces like they were no more than rabbits that the foxes had +killed. No thing—not even bear—have ever tackled lynx in a trap +before. It is the first time I ever see it. And they are torn up so bad +they are not worth one half dollar at the post. Seven!—that is over two +hundred dollar I have lost! There are two wolves who do it. Two—I know +it by the tracks—always two—an'—never one. They follow my trap-line +an' eat the rabbits I catch. They leave the fisher-cat, an' the mink, +an' the ermine, an' the marten; but the lynx—<i>sacré</i> an' damn!—they +jump on him an' pull the fur from him like you pull the wild cotton +balls from the burn-bush! I have tried strychnine in deer fat, an' I +have set traps and deadfalls, but I can not catch them. They will drive +me out unless I get them, for I have taken only five good lynx, an' they +have destroyed seven."</p> + +<p>This roused Weyman. He was one of that growing number of thoughtful men +who believe that man's egoism, as a race, blinds him to many of the more +wonderful facts of creation. He had thrown down the gantlet, and with a +logic that had gained him a nation-wide hearing, to those who believed +that man was the only living creature who could reason, and that common +sense and cleverness when displayed by any other breathing thing were +merely instinct. The facts behind Henri's tale of woe struck him as +important, and until midnight they talked about the two strange wolves.</p> + +<p>"There is one big wolf an' one smaller," said Henri. "An' it is always +the big wolf who goes in an' fights the lynx. I see that by the snow. +While he's fighting, the smaller wolf makes many tracks in the snow just +out of reach, an' then when the lynx is down, or dead, it jumps in an' +helps tear it into pieces. All that I know by the snow. Only once have I +seen where the smaller one went in an' fought with the other, an' then +there was blood all about that was not lynx blood; I trailed the devils +a mile by the dripping."</p> + +<p>During the two weeks that followed, Weyman found much to add to the +material of his book. Not a day passed that somewhere along Henri's +trap-line they did not see the trails of the two wolves, and Weyman +observed that—as Henri had told him—the footprints were always two by +two, and never one by one. On the third day they came to a trap that had +held a lynx, and at sight of what remained Henri cursed in both French +and English until he was purple in the face. The lynx had been torn +until its pelt was practically worthless.</p> + +<p>Weyman saw where the smaller wolf had waited on its haunches, while its +companion had killed the lynx. He did not tell Henri all he thought. But +the days that followed convinced him more and more that he had found the +most dramatic exemplification of his theory. Back of this mysterious +tragedy of the trap-line there was a <i>reason</i>.</p> + +<p>Why did the two wolves not destroy the fisher-cat, the ermine and the +marten? Why was their feud with the lynx alone?</p> + +<p>Weyman was strangely thrilled. He was a lover of wild things, and for +that reason he never carried a gun. And when he saw Henri placing +poison-baits for the two marauders, he shuddered, and when, day after +day, he saw that these poison-baits were untouched, he rejoiced. +Something in his own nature went out in sympathy to the heroic outlaw of +the trap-line who never failed to give battle to the lynx. Nights in the +cabin he wrote down his thoughts and discoveries of the day. One night +he turned suddenly on Henri.</p> + +<p>"Henri, doesn't it ever make you sorry to kill so many wild things?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Henri stared and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I kill t'ousand an' t'ousand," he said. "I kill t'ousand more."</p> + +<p>"And there are twenty thousand others just like you in this northern +quarter of the continent—all killing, killing for hundreds of years +back, and yet you can't kill out wild life. The war of Man and the +Beast, you might call it. And, if you could return five hundred years +from now, Henri, you'd still find wild life here. Nearly all the rest of +the world is changing, but you can't change these almost impenetrable +thousands of square miles of ridges and swamps and forests. The +railroads won't come here, and I, for one, thank God for that. Take all +the great prairies to the west, for instance. Why, the old buffalo +trails are still there, plain as day—and yet, towns and cities are +growing up everywhere. Did you ever hear of North Battleford?"</p> + +<p>"Is she near Montreal or Quebec?" Henri asked.</p> + +<p>Weyman smiled, and drew a photograph from his pocket. It was the picture +of a girl.</p> + +<p>"No. It's far to the west, in Saskatchewan. Seven years ago I used to +go up there every year, to shoot prairie chickens, coyotes and elk. +There wasn't any North Battleford then—just the glorious prairie, +hundreds and hundreds of square miles of it. There was a single shack on +the Saskatchewan River, where North Battleford now stands, and I used to +stay there. In that shack there was a little girl, twelve years old. We +used to go out hunting together—for I used to kill things in those +days. And the little girl would cry sometimes when I killed, and I'd +laugh at her.</p> + +<p>"Then a railroad came, and then another, and they joined near the shack, +and all at once a town sprang up. Seven years ago there was only the +shack there, Henri. Two years ago there were eighteen hundred people. +This year, when I came through, there were five thousand, and two years +from now there'll be ten thousand.</p> + +<p>"On the ground where that shack stood are three banks, with a capital of +forty million dollars; you can see the glow of the electric lights of +the city twenty miles away. It has a hundred-thousand dollar college, a +high school, the provincial asylum, a fire department, two clubs, a +board of trade, and it's going to have a street-car line within two +years. Think of that—all where the coyotes howled a few years ago!</p> + +<p>"People are coming in so fast that they can't keep a census. Five years +from now there'll be a city of twenty thousand where the old shack +stood. And the little girl in that shack, Henri—she's a young lady now, +and her people are—well, rich. I don't care about that. The chief thing +is that she is going to marry me in the spring. Because of her I stopped +killing things when she was only sixteen. The last thing I killed was a +prairie wolf, and it had young. Eileen kept the little puppy. She's got +it now—tamed. That's why above all other wild things I love the wolves. +And I hope these two leave your trap-line safe."</p> + +<p>Henri was staring at him. Weyman gave him the picture. It was of a +sweet-faced girl, with deep pure eyes, and there came a twitch at the +corners of Henri's mouth as he looked at it.</p> + +<p>"My Iowaka died t'ree year ago," he said. "She too loved the wild +thing. But them wolf—damn! They drive me out if I can not kill them!" +He put fresh fuel into the stove, and prepared for bed.</p> + +<p>One day the big idea came to Henri.</p> + +<p>Weyman was with him when they struck fresh signs of lynx. There was a +great windfall ten or fifteen feet high, and in one place the logs had +formed a sort of cavern, with almost solid walls on three sides. The +snow was beaten down by tracks, and the fur of rabbit was scattered +about. Henri was jubilant.</p> + +<p>"We got heem—sure!" he said.</p> + +<p>He built the bait-house, set a trap and looked about him shrewdly. Then +he explained his scheme to Weyman. If the lynx was caught, and the two +wolves came to destroy it, the fight would take place in that shelter +under the windfall, and the marauders would have to pass through the +opening. So Henri set five smaller traps, concealing them skilfully +under leaves and moss and snow, and all were far enough away from the +bait-house so that the trapped lynx could not spring them in his +struggles.</p> + +<p>"When they fight, wolf jump this way an' that—an' sure get in," said +Henri. "He miss one, two, t'ree—but he sure get in trap somewhere."</p> + +<p>That same morning a light snow fell, making the work more complete, for +it covered up all footprints and buried the telltale scent of man. That +night Kazan and Gray Wolf passed within a hundred feet of the windfall, +and Gray Wolf's keen scent detected something strange and disquieting in +the air. She informed Kazan by pressing her shoulder against his, and +they swung off at right angles, keeping to windward of the trap-line.</p> + +<p>For two days and three cold starlit nights nothing happened at the +windfall. Henri understood, and explained to Weyman. The lynx was a +hunter, like himself, and also had its hunt-line, which it covered about +once a week. On the fifth night the lynx returned, went to the windfall, +was lured straight to the bait, and the sharp-toothed steel trap closed +relentlessly over its right hindfoot. Kazan and Gray Wolf were traveling +a quarter of a mile deeper in the forest when they heard the clanking of +the steel chain as the lynx fought; to free itself. Ten minutes later +they stood in the door of the windfall cavern.</p> + +<p>It was a white clear night, so filled with brilliant stars that Henri +himself could have hunted by the light of them. The lynx had exhausted +itself, and lay crouching on its belly as Kazan and Gray Wolf appeared. +As usual, Gray Wolf held back while Kazan began the battle. In the first +or second of these fights on the trap-line, Kazan would probably have +been disemboweled or had his jugular vein cut open, had the fierce cats +been free. They were more than his match in open fight, though the +biggest of them fell ten pounds under his weight. Chance had saved him +on the Sun Rock. Gray Wolf and the porcupine had both added to the +defeat of the lynx on the sand-bar. And along Henri's hunting line it +was the trap that was his ally. Even with his enemy thus shackled he +took big chances. And he took bigger chances than ever with the lynx +under the windfall.</p> + +<p>The cat was an old warrior, six or seven years old. His claws were an +inch and a quarter long, and curved like simitars. His forefeet and his +left hindfoot were free, and as Kazan advanced, he drew back, so that +the trap-chain was slack under his body. Here Kazan could not follow his +old tactics of circling about his trapped foe, until it had become +tangled in the chain, or had so shortened and twisted it that there was +no chance for a leap. He had to attack face to face, and suddenly he +lunged in. They met shoulder to shoulder. Kazan's fangs snapped at the +other's throat, and missed. Before he could strike again, the lynx flung +out its free hindfoot, and even Gray Wolf heard the ripping sound that +it made. With a snarl Kazan was flung back, his shoulder torn to the +bone.</p> + +<p>Then it was that one of Henri's hidden traps saved him from a second +attack—and death. Steel jaws snapped over one of his forefeet, and when +he leaped, the chain stopped him. Once or twice before, blind Gray Wolf +had leaped in, when she knew that Kazan was in great danger. For an +instant she forgot her caution now, and as she heard Kazan's snarl of +pain, she sprang in under the windfall. Five traps Henri had hidden in +the space in front of the bait-house, and Gray Wolf's feet found two of +these. She fell on her side, snapping and snarling. In his struggles +Kazan sprung the remaining two traps. One of them missed. The fifth, and +last, caught him by a hindfoot.</p> + +<p>This was a little past midnight. From then until morning the earth and +snow under the windfall were torn up by the struggles of the wolf, the +dog and the lynx to regain their freedom. And when morning came, all +three were exhausted, and lay on their sides, panting and with bleeding +jaws, waiting for the coming of man—and death.</p> + +<p>Henri and Weyman were out early. When they struck off the main line +toward the windfall, Henri pointed to the tracks of Kazan and Gray Wolf, +and his dark face lighted up with pleasure and excitement. When they +reached the shelter under the mass of fallen timber, both stood +speechless for a moment, astounded by what they saw. Even Henri had seen +nothing like this before—two wolves and a lynx, all in traps, and +almost within reach of one another's fangs. But surprise could not long +delay the business of Henri's hunter's instinct. The wolves lay first in +his path, and he was raising his rifle to put a steel-capped bullet +through the base of Kazan's brain, when Weyman caught him eagerly by the +arm. Weyman was staring. His fingers dug into Henri's flesh. His eyes +had caught a glimpse of the steel-studded collar about Kazan's neck.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" he cried. "It's not a wolf. It's a dog!"</p> + +<p>Henri lowered his rifle, staring at the collar. Weyman's eyes shot to +Gray Wolf. She was facing them, snarling, her white fangs bared to the +foes she could not see. Her blind eyes were closed. Where there should +have been eyes there was only hair, and an exclamation broke from +Weyman's lips.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he commanded of Henri. "What in the name of heaven—"</p> + +<p>"One is dog—wild dog that has run to the wolves," said Henri. "And the +other is—wolf."</p> + +<p>"And <i>blind</i>!" gasped Weyman.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oui</i>, blind, m'sieur," added Henri, falling partly into French in his +amazement. He was raising his rifle again. Weyman seized it firmly.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="004.jpg" alt="[Illustration: "Wait! it's not a wolf!"]" /></p> + +<p>"Don't kill them, Henri," he said. "Give them to me—alive. Figure up +the value of the lynx they have destroyed, and add to that the wolf +bounty, and I will pay. Alive, they are worth to me a great deal. My +God, a dog—and a blind wolf—<i>mates</i>!"</p> + +<p>He still held Henri's rifle, and Henri was staring at him, as if he did +not yet quite understand.</p> + +<p>Weyman continued speaking, his eyes and face blazing.</p> + +<p>"A dog—and a blind wolf—<i>mates</i>!" he repeated. "It is wonderful, +Henri. Down there, they will say I have gone beyond <i>reason</i>, when my +book comes out. But I shall have proof. I shall take twenty photographs +here, before you kill the lynx. I shall keep the dog and the wolf alive. +And I shall pay you, Henri, a hundred dollars apiece for the two. May I +have them?"</p> + +<p>Henri nodded. He held his rifle in readiness, while Weyman unpacked his +camera and got to work. Snarling fangs greeted the click of the +camera-shutter—the fangs of wolf and lynx. But Kazan lay cringing, not +through fear, but because he still recognized the mastery of man. And +when he had finished with his pictures, Weyman approached almost within +reach of him, and spoke even more kindly to him than the man who had +lived back in the deserted cabin.</p> + +<p>Henri shot the lynx, and when Kazan understood this, he tore at the end +of his trap-chains and snarled at the writhing body of his forest enemy. +By means of a pole and a babiche noose, Kazan was brought out from under +the windfall and taken to Henri's cabin. The two men then returned with +a thick sack and more babiche, and blind Gray Wolf, still fettered by +the traps, was made prisoner. All the rest of that day Weyman and Henri +worked to build a stout cage of saplings, and when it was finished, the +two prisoners were placed in it.</p> + +<p>Before the dog was put in with Gray Wolf, Weyman closely examined the +worn and tooth-marked collar about his neck.</p> + +<p>On the brass plate he found engraved the one word, "Kazan," and with a +strange thrill made note of it in his diary.</p> + +<p>After this Weyman often remained at the cabin when Henri went out on the +trap-line. After the second day he dared to put his hand between the +sapling bars and touch Kazan, and the next day Kazan accepted a piece of +raw moose meat from his hand. But at his approach, Gray Wolf would +always hide under the pile of balsam in the corner of their prison. The +instinct of generations and perhaps of centuries had taught her that man +was her deadliest enemy. And yet, this man did not hurt her, and Kazan +was not afraid of him. She was frightened at first; then puzzled, and a +growing curiosity followed that. Occasionally, after the third day, she +would thrust her blind face out of the balsam and sniff the air when +Weyman was at the cage, making friends with Kazan. But she would not +eat. Weyman noted that, and each day he tempted her with the choicest +morsels of deer and moose fat. Five days—six—seven passed, and she had +not taken a mouthful. Weyman could count her ribs.</p> + +<p>"She die," Henri told him on the seventh night. "She starve before she +eat in that cage. She want the forest, the wild kill, the fresh blood. +She two—t'ree year old—too old to make civilize."</p> + +<p>Henri went to bed at the usual hour, but Weyman was troubled, and sat +up late. He wrote a long letter to the sweet-faced girl at North +Battleford, and then he turned out the light, and painted visions of her +in the red glow of the fire. He saw her again for that first time when +he camped in the little shack where the fifth city of Saskatchewan now +stood—with her blue eyes, the big shining braid, and the fresh glow of +the prairies in her cheeks. She had hated him—yes, actually hated him, +because he loved to kill. He laughed softly as he thought of that. She +had changed him—wonderfully.</p> + +<p>He rose, opened the door, softly, and went out. Instinctively his eyes +turned westward. The sky was a blaze of stars. In their light he could +see the cage, and he stood, watching and listening. A sound came to him. +It was Gray Wolf gnawing at the sapling bars of her prison. A moment +later there came a low sobbing whine, and he knew that it was Kazan +crying for his freedom.</p> + +<p>Leaning against the side of the cabin was an ax. Weyman seized it, and +his lips smiled silently. He was thrilled by a strange happiness, and a +thousand miles away in that city on the Saskatchewan he could feel +another spirit rejoicing with him. He moved toward the cage. A dozen +blows, and two of the sapling bars were knocked out. Then Weyman drew +back. Gray Wolf found the opening first, and she slipped out into the +starlight like a shadow. But she did not flee. Out in the open space she +waited for Kazan, and for a moment the two stood there, looking at the +cabin. Then they set off into freedom, Gray Wolf's shoulder at Kazan's +flank.</p> + +<p>Weyman breathed deeply.</p> + +<p>"Two by two—always two by two, until death finds one of them," he +whispered.</p> + + + + +<a name="12"></a> +<h2>Chapter XII</h2> + +<h3>The Red Death</h3> + +<p>Kazan and Gray Wolf wandered northward into the Fond du Lac country, and +were there when Jacques, a Hudson Bay Company's runner, came up to the +post from the south with the first authentic news of the dread +plague—the smallpox. For weeks there had been rumors on all sides. And +rumor grew into rumor. From the east, the south and the west they +multiplied, until on all sides the Paul Reveres of the wilderness were +carrying word that <i>La Mort Rouge</i>—the Red Death—was at their heels, +and the chill of a great fear swept like a shivering wind from the edge +of civilization to the bay. Nineteen years before these same rumors had +come up from the south, and the Red Terror had followed. The horror of +it still remained with the forest people, for a thousand unmarked +graves, shunned like a pestilence, and scattered from the lower waters +of James Bay to the lake country of the Athabasca, gave evidence of the +toll it demanded.</p> + +<p>Now and then in their wanderings Kazan and Gray Wolf had come upon the +little mounds that covered the dead. Instinct—something that was +infinitely beyond the comprehension of man—made them <i>feel</i> the +presence of death about them, perhaps smell it in the air. Gray Wolf's +wild blood and her blindness gave her an immense advantage over Kazan +when it came to detecting those mysteries of the air and the earth which +the eyes were not made to see. Each day that had followed that terrible +moonlit night on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded her, had added +to the infallibility of her two chief senses—hearing and scent. And it +was she who discovered the presence of the plague first, just as she had +scented the great forest fire hours before Kazan had found it in the +air.</p> + +<p>Kazan had lured her back to a trap-line. The trail they found was old. +It had not been traveled for many days. In a trap they found a rabbit, +but it had been dead a long time. In another there was the carcass of a +fox, torn into bits by the owls. Most of the traps were sprung. Others +were covered with snow. Kazan, with his three-quarters strain of dog, +ran over the trail from trap to trap, intent only on something +alive—meat to devour. Gray Wolf, in her blindness, scented <i>death</i>. It +shivered in the tree-tops above her. She found it in every trap-house +they came to—death—<i>man death</i>. It grew stronger and stronger, and +she whined, and nipped Kazan's flank. And Kazan went on. Gray Wolf +followed him to the edge of the clearing in which Loti's cabin stood, +and then she sat back on her haunches, raised her blind face to the gray +sky, and gave a long and wailing cry. In that moment the bristles began +to stand up along Kazan's spine. Once, long ago, he had howled before +the tepee of a master who was newly dead, and he settled back on his +haunches, and gave the death-cry with Gray Wolf. He, too, scented it +now. Death was in the cabin, and over the cabin there stood a sapling +pole, and at the end of the pole there fluttered a strip of red cotton +rag—the warning flag of the plague from Athabasca to the bay. This man, +like a hundred other heroes of the North, had run up the warning before +he laid himself down to die. And that same night, in the cold light of +the moon, Kazan and Gray Wolf swung northward into the country of the +Fond du Lac.</p> + +<p>There preceded them a messenger from the post on Reindeer Lake, who was +passing up the warning that had come from Nelson House and the country +to the southeast.</p> + +<p>"There's smallpox on the Nelson," the messenger informed Williams, at +Fond du Lac, "and it has struck the Crees on Wollaston Lake. God only +knows what it is doing to the Bay Indians, but we hear it is wiping out +the Chippewas between the Albany and the Churchill." He left the same +day with his winded dogs. "I'm off to carry word to the Reveillon people +to the west," he explained.</p> + +<p>Three days later, word came from Churchill that all of the company's +servants and his majesty's subjects west of the bay should prepare +themselves for the coming of the Red Terror. Williams' thin face turned +as white as the paper he held, as he read the words of the Churchill +factor.</p> + +<p>"It means dig graves," he said. "That's the only preparation we can +make."</p> + +<p>He read the paper aloud to the men at Fond du Lac, and every available +man was detailed to spread the warning throughout the post's territory. +There was a quick harnessing of dogs, and on each sledge that went out +was a roll of red cotton cloth—rolls that were ominous of death, lurid +signals of pestilence and horror, whose touch sent shuddering chills +through the men who were about to scatter them among the forest people. +Kazan and Gray Wolf struck the trail of one of these sledges on the Gray +Beaver, and followed it for half a mile. The next day, farther to the +west, they struck another, and on the fourth day still a third. The last +trail was fresh, and Gray Wolf drew back from it as if stung, her fangs +snarling. On the wind there came to them the pungent odor of smoke. They +cut at right angles to the trail, Gray Wolf leaping clear of the marks +in the snow, and climbed to the cap of a ridge. To windward of them, and +down in the plain, a cabin was burning. A team of huskies and a man were +disappearing in the spruce forest. Deep down in his throat Kazan gave a +rumbling whine. Gray Wolf stood as rigid as a rock. In the cabin a +plague-dead man was burning. It was the law of the North. And the +mystery of the funeral pyre came again to Kazan and Gray Wolf. This time +they did not howl, but slunk down into the farther plain, and did not +stop that day until they had buried themselves deep in a dry and +sheltered swamp ten miles to the north.</p> + +<p>After this they followed the days and weeks which marked the winter of +nineteen hundred and ten as one of the most terrible in all the history +of the Northland—a single month in which wild life as well as human +hung in the balance, and when cold, starvation and plague wrote a +chapter in the lives of the forest people which will not be forgotten +for generations to come.</p> + +<p>In the swamp Kazan and Gray Wolf found a home under a windfall. It was a +small comfortable nest, shut in entirely from the snow and wind. Gray +Wolf took possession of it immediately. She flattened herself out on her +belly, and panted to show Kazan her contentment and satisfaction. Nature +again kept Kazan close at her side. A vision came to him, unreal and +dream-like, of that wonderful night under the stars—ages and ages ago, +it seemed—when he had fought the leader of the wolf-pack, and young +Gray Wolf had crept to his side after his victory and had given herself +to him for mate. But this mating season there was no running after the +doe or the caribou, or mingling with the wild pack. They lived chiefly +on rabbit and spruce partridge, because of Gray Wolf's blindness. Kazan +could hunt those alone. The hair had now grown over Gray Wolf's +sightless eyes. She had ceased to grieve, to rub her eyes with her paws, +to whine for the sunlight, the golden moon and the stars. Slowly she +began to forget that she had ever seen those things. She could now run +more swiftly at Kazan's flank. Scent and hearing had become wonderfully +keen. She could wind a caribou two miles distant, and the presence of +man she could pick up at an even greater distance. On a still night she +had heard the splash of a trout half a mile away. And as these two +things—scent and hearing—became more and more developed in her, those +same senses became less active in Kazan.</p> + +<p>He began to depend upon Gray Wolf. She would point out the hiding-place +of a partridge fifty yards from their trail. In their hunts she became +the leader—until game was found. And as Kazan learned to trust to her +in the hunt, so he began just as instinctively to heed her warnings. If +Gray Wolf reasoned, it was to the effect that without Kazan she would +die. She had tried hard now and then to catch a partridge, or a rabbit, +but she had always failed. Kazan meant life to her. And—if she +reasoned—it was to make herself indispensable to her mate. Blindness +had made her different than she would otherwise have been. Again nature +promised motherhood to her. But she did not—as she would have done in +the open, and with sight—hold more and more aloof from Kazan as the +days passed. It was her habit, spring, summer and winter, to snuggle +close to Kazan and lie with her beautiful head resting on his neck or +back. If Kazan snarled at her she did not snap back, but slunk down as +though struck a blow. With her warm tongue she would lick away the ice +that froze to the long hair between Kazan's toes. For days after he had +run a sliver in his paw she nursed his foot. Blindness had made Kazan +absolutely necessary to her existence—and now, in a different way, she +became more and more necessary to Kazan. They were happy in their swamp +home. There was plenty of small game about them, and it was warm under +the windfall. Rarely did they go beyond the limits of the swamp to hunt. +Out on the more distant plains and the barren ridges they occasionally +heard the cry of the wolf-pack on the trail of meat, but it no longer +thrilled them with a desire to join in the chase.</p> + +<p>One day they struck farther than usual to the west. They left the swamp, +crossed a plain over which a fire had swept the preceding year, climbed +a ridge, and descended into a second plain. At the bottom Gray Wolf +stopped and sniffed the air. At these times Kazan always watched her, +waiting eagerly and nervously if the scent was too faint for him to +catch. But to-day he caught the edge of it, and he knew why Gray Wolf's +ears flattened, and her hindquarters drooped. The scent of game would +have made her rigid and alert. But it was not the game smell. It was +human, and Gray Wolf slunk behind Kazan and whined. For several minutes +they stood without moving or making a sound, and then Kazan led the way +on. Less than three hundred yards away they came to a thick clump of +scrub spruce, and almost ran into a snow-smothered tepee. It was +abandoned. Life and fire had not been there for a long time. But from +the tepee had come the man-smell. With legs rigid and his spine +quivering Kazan approached the opening to the tepee. He looked in. In +the middle of the tepee, lying on the charred embers of a fire, lay a +ragged blanket—and in the blanket was wrapped the body of a little +Indian child. Kazan could see the tiny moccasined feet. But so long had +death been there that he could scarcely smell the presence of it. He +drew back, and saw Gray Wolf cautiously nosing about a long and +peculiarly shaped hummock in the snow. She had traveled about it three +times, but never approaching nearer than a man could have reached with a +rifle barrel. At the end of her third circle she sat down on her +haunches, and Kazan went close to the hummock and sniffed. Under that +bulge in the snow, as well as in the tepee, there was death. They slunk +away, their ears flattened and their tails drooping until they trailed +the snow, and did not stop until they reached their swamp home. Even +there Gray Wolf still sniffed the horror of the plague, and her muscles +twitched and shivered as she lay close at Kazan's side.</p> + +<p>That night the big white moon had around its edge a crimson rim. It +meant cold—intense cold. Always the plague came in the days of greatest +cold—the lower the temperature the more terrible its havoc. It grew +steadily colder that night, and the increased chill penetrated to the +heart of the windfall, and drew Kazan and Gray Wolf closer together. +With dawn, which came at about eight o'clock, Kazan and his blind mate +sallied forth into the day. It was fifty degrees below zero. About them +the trees cracked with reports like pistol-shots. In the thickest spruce +the partridges were humped into round balls of feathers. The snow-shoe +rabbits had burrowed deep under the snow or to the heart of the heaviest +windfalls. Kazan and Gray Wolf found few fresh trails, and after an +hour of fruitless hunting they returned to their lair. Kazan, dog-like, +had buried the half of a rabbit two or three days before, and they dug +this out of the snow and ate the frozen flesh.</p> + +<p>All that day it grew colder—steadily colder. The night that followed +was cloudless, with a white moon and brilliant stars. The temperature +had fallen another ten degrees, and nothing was moving. Traps were never +sprung on such nights, for even the furred things—the mink, and the +ermine, and the lynx—lay snug in the holes and the nests they had found +for themselves. An increasing hunger was not strong enough to drive +Kazan and Gray Wolf from their windfall. The next day there was no break +in the terrible cold, and toward noon Kazan set out on a hunt for meat, +leaving Gray Wolf in the windfall. Being three-quarters dog, food was +more necessary to Kazan than to his mate. Nature has fitted the +wolf-breed for famine, and in ordinary temperature Gray Wolf could have +lived for a fortnight without food. At sixty degrees below zero she +could exist a week, perhaps ten days. Only thirty hours had passed +sinee they had devoured the last of the frozen rabbit, and she was quite +satisfied to remain in their snug retreat.</p> + +<p>But Kazan was hungry. He began to hunt in the face of the wind, +traveling toward the burned plain. He nosed about every windfall that he +came to, and investigated the thickets. A thin shot-like snow had +fallen, and in this—from the windfall to the burn—he found but a +single trail, and that was the trail of an ermine. Under a windfall he +caught the warm scent of a rabbit, but the rabbit was as safe from him +there as were the partridges in the trees, and after an hour of futile +digging and gnawing he gave up his effort to reach it. For three hours +he had hunted when he returned to Gray Wolf. He was exhausted. While +Gray Wolf, with the instinct of the wild, had saved her own strength and +energy, Kazan had been burning up his reserve forces, and was hungrier +than ever.</p> + +<p>The moon rose clear and brilliant in the sky again that night, and Kazan +set out once more on the hunt. He urged Gray Wolf to accompany him, +whining for her outside the windfall—returning for her twice—but +Gray Wolf laid her ears aslant and refused to move. The temperature had +now fallen to sixty-five or seventy degrees below zero, and with it +there came from the north an increasing wind, making the night one in +which human life could not have existed for an hour. By midnight Kazan +was back under the windfall. The wind grew stronger. It began to wail in +mournful dirges over the swamp, and then it burst in fierce shrieking +volleys, with intervals of quiet between. These were the first warnings +from the great barrens that lay between the last lines of timber and the +Arctic. With morning the storm burst in all its fury from out of the +north, and Gray Wolf and Kazan lay close together and shivered as they +listened to the roar of it over the windfall. Once Kazan thrust his head +and shoulders out from the shelter of the fallen trees, but the storm +drove him back. Everything that possessed life had sought shelter, +according to its way and instinct. The furred creatures like the mink +and the ermine were safest, for during the warmer hunting days they were +of the kind that cached meat. The wolves and the foxes had sought out +the windfalls, and the rocks. Winged things, with the exception of the +owls, who were a tenth part body and nine-tenths feathers, burrowed +under snow-drifts or found shelter in thick spruce. To the hoofed and +horned animals the storm meant greatest havoc. The deer, the caribou and +the moose could not crawl under windfalls or creep between rocks. The +best they could do was to lie down in the lee of a drift, and allow +themselves to be covered deep with the protecting snow. Even then they +could not keep their shelter long, for they had to <i>eat</i>. For eighteen +hours out of the twenty-four the moose had to feed to keep himself alive +during the winter. His big stomach demanded quantity, and it took him +most of his time to nibble from the tops of bushes the two or three +bushels he needed a day. The caribou required almost as much—the deer +least of the three.</p> + +<p>And the storm kept up that day, and the next, and still a third—three +days and three nights—and the third day and night there came with it a +stinging, shot-like snow that fell two feet deep on the level, and in +drifts of eight and ten. It was the "heavy snow" of the Indians—the +snow that lay like lead on the earth, and under which partridges and +rabbits were smothered in thousands.</p> + +<p>On the fourth day after the beginning of the storm Kazan and Gray Wolf +issued forth from the windfall. There was no longer a wind—no more +falling snow. The whole world lay under a blanket of unbroken white, and +it was intensely cold.</p> + +<p>The plague had worked its havoc with men. Now had come the days of +famine and death for the wild things.</p> + + + + +<a name="13"></a> +<h2>Chapter XIII</h2> + +<h3>The Trail Of Hunger</h3> + +<p>Kazan and Gray Wolf had been a hundred and forty hours without food. To +Gray Wolf this meant acute discomfort, a growing weakness. To Kazan it +was starvation. Six days and six nights of fasting had drawn in their +ribs and put deep hollows in front of their hindquarters. Kazan's eyes +were red, and they narrowed to slits as he looked forth into the day. +Gray Wolf followed him this time when he went out on the hard snow. +Eagerly and hopefully they began the hunt in the bitter cold. They swung +around the edge of the windfall, where there had always been rabbits. +There were no tracks now, and no scent. They continued in a horseshoe +circle through the swamp, and the only scent they caught was that of a +snow-owl perched up in a spruce. They came to the burn and turned back, +hunting the opposite side of the swamp. On this side there was a ridge. +They climbed the ridge, and from the cap of it looked out over a world +that was barren of life. Ceaselessly Gray Wolf sniffed the air, but she +gave no signal to Kazan. On the top of the ridge Kazan stood panting. +His endurance was gone. On their return through the swamp he stumbled +over an obstacle which he tried to clear with a jump. Hungrier and +weaker, they returned to the windfall. The night that followed was +clear, and brilliant with stars. They hunted the swamp again. Nothing +was moving—save one other creature, and that was a fox. Instinct told +them that it was futile to follow him.</p> + +<p>It was then that the old thought of the cabin returned to Kazan. Two +things the cabin had always meant to him—warmth and food. And far +beyond the ridge was the cabin, where he and Gray Wolf had howled at the +scent of death. He did not think of man—or of that mystery which he had +howled at. He thought only of the cabin, and the cabin had always meant +food. He set off in a straight line for the ridge, and Gray Wolf +followed. They crossed the ridge and the burn beyond, and entered the +edge of a second swamp. Kazan was hunting listlessly now. His head hung +low. His bushy tail dragged in the snow. He was intent on the +cabin—only the cabin. It was his last hope. But Gray Wolf was still +alert, taking in the wind, and lifting her head whenever Kazan stopped +to snuffle his chilled nose in the snow. At last it came—the scent! +Kazan had moved on, but he stopped when he found that Gray Wolf was not +following. All the strength that was in his starved body revealed itself +in a sudden rigid tenseness as he looked at his mate. Her forefeet were +planted firmly to the east; her slim gray head was reaching out for the +scent; her body trembled.</p> + +<p>Then—suddenly—they heard a sound, and with a whining cry Kazan set out +in its direction, with Gray Wolf at his flank. The scent grew stronger +and stronger in Gray Wolf's nostrils, and soon it came to Kazan. It was +not the scent of a rabbit or a partridge. It was big game. They +approached cautiously, keeping full in the wind. The swamp grew +thicker, the spruce more dense, and now—from a hundred yards ahead of +them—there came a crashing of locked and battling horns. Ten seconds +more they climbed over a snowdrift, and Kazan stopped and dropped flat +on his belly. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, her blind eyes +turned to what she could smell but could not see.</p> + +<p>Fifty yards from them a number of moose had gathered for shelter in the +thick spruce. They had eaten clear a space an acre in extent. The trees +were cropped bare as high as they could reach, and the snow was beaten +hard under their feet. There were six animals in the acre, two of them +bulls—and these bulls were fighting, while three cows and a yearling +were huddled in a group watching the mighty duel. Just before the storm +a young bull, sleek, three-quarters grown, and with the small compact +antlers of a four-year-old, had led the three cows and the yearling to +this sheltered spot among the spruce. Until last night he had been +master of the herd. During the night the older bull had invaded his +dominion. The invader was four times as old as the young bull. He was +half again as heavy. His huge palmate horns, knotted and irregular—but +massive—spoke of age. A warrior of a hundred fights, he had not +hesitated to give battle in his effort to rob the younger bull of his +home and family. Three times they had fought since dawn, and the +hard-trodden snow was red with blood. The smell of it came to Kazan's +and Gray Wolf's nostrils. Kazan sniffed hungrily. Queer sounds rolled up +and down in Gray Wolf's throat, and she licked her jaws.</p> + +<p>For a moment the two fighters drew a few yards apart, and stood with +lowered heads. The old bull had not yet won victory. The younger bull +represented youth and endurance; in the older bull those things were +pitted against craft, greater weight, maturer strength—and a head and +horns that were like a battering ram. But in that great hulk of the +older bull there was one other thing—age. His huge sides were panting. +His nostrils were as wide as bells. Then, as if some invisible spirit of +the arena had given the signal, the animals came together again. The +crash of their horns could have been heard half a mile away, and under +twelve hundred pounds of flesh and bone the younger hull went plunging +back upon his haunches. Then was when youth displayed itself. In an +instant he was up, and locking horns with his adversary. Twenty times he +had done this, and each attack had seemed filled with increasing +strength. And now, as if realizing that the last moments of the last +fight had come, he twisted the old bull's neck and fought as he had +never fought before. Kazan and Gray Wolf both heard the sharp crack that +followed—as if a dry stick had been stepped upon and broken. It was +February, and the hoofed animals were already beginning to shed their +horns—especially the older bulls, whose palmate growths drop first. +This fact gave victory to the younger bull in the blood-stained arena a +few yards from Gray Wolf and Kazan. From its socket in the old bull's +skull one of his huge antlers broke with that sharp snapping sound, and +in another moment four inches of stiletto-like horn buried itself back +of his foreleg. In an instant all hope and courage left him, and he +swung backward yard by yard, with the younger bull prodding his neck and +shoulders until blood dripped from him in little streams. At the edge +of the clearing he flung himself free and crashed off into the forest.</p> + +<p>The younger bull did not pursue. He tossed his head, and stood for a few +moments with heaving sides and dilated nostrils, facing in the direction +his vanquished foe had taken. Then he turned, and trotted back to the +still motionless cows and yearling.</p> + +<p>Kazan and Gray Wolf were quivering. Gray Wolf slunk back from the edge +of the clearing, and Kazan followed. No longer were they interested in +the cows and the young bull. From that clearing they had seen meat +driven forth—meat that was beaten in fight, and bleeding. Every +instinct of the wild pack returned to Gray Wolf now—and in Kazan the +mad desire to taste the blood he smelled. Swiftly they turned toward the +blood-stained trail of the old bull, and when they came to it they found +it spattered red. Kazan's jaws dripped as the hot scent drove the blood +like veins of fire through his weakened body. His eyes were reddened by +starvation, and in them there was a light now that they had never known +even in the days of the wolf-pack.</p> + +<p>He set off swiftly, almost forgetful of Gray Wolf. But his mate no +longer required his flank for guidance. With her nose close to the trail +she ran—ran as she had run in the long and thrilling hunts before +blindness came. Half a mile from the spruce thicket they came upon the +old bull. He had sought shelter behind a clump of balsam, and he stood +over a growing pool of blood in the snow. He was still breathing hard. +His massive head, grotesque now with its one antler, was drooping. +Flecks of blood dropped from his distended nostrils. Even then, with the +old bull weakened by starvation, exhaustion and loss of blood, a +wolf-pack would have hung back before attacking. Where they would have +hesitated, Kazan leaped in with a snarling cry. For an instant his fangs +sunk into the thick hide of the bull's throat. Then he was flung +back—twenty feet. Hunger gnawing at his vitals robbed him of all +caution, and he sprang to the attack again—full at the bull's +front—while Gray Wolf crept up unseen behind, seeking in her blindness +the vulnerable part which nature had not taught Kazan to find.</p> + +<p>This time Kazan was caught fairly on the broad palmate leaf of the +bull's antler, and he was flung back again, half stunned. In that same +moment Gray Wolf's long white teeth cut like knives through one of the +bull's rope-like hamstrings. For thirty seconds she kept the hold, while +the bull plunged wildly in his efforts to trample her underfoot. Kazan +was quick to learn, still quicker to be guided by Gray Wolf, and he +leaped in again, snapping for a hold on the bulging cord just above the +knee. He missed, and as he lunged forward on his shoulders Gray Wolf was +flung off. But she had accomplished her purpose. Beaten in open battle +with one of his kind, and now attacked by a still deadlier foe, the old +bull began to retreat. As he went, one hip sank under him at every step. +The tendon of his left leg was bitten half through.</p> + +<p>Without being able to see, Gray Wolf seemed to realize what had +happened. Again she was the pack-wolf—with all the old wolf strategy. +Twice flung back by the old bull's horn, Kazan knew better than to +attack openly again. Gray Wolf trotted after the bull, but he remained +behind for a moment to lick up hungrily mouthfuls of the blood-soaked +snow. Then he followed, and ran close against Gray Wolf's side, fifty +yards behind the bull. There was more blood in the trail now—a thin red +ribbon of it. Fifteen minutes later the bull stopped again, and faced +about, his great head lowered. His eyes were red. There was a droop to +his neck and shoulders that spoke no longer of the unconquerable +fighting spirit that had been a part of him for nearly a score of years. +No longer was he lord of the wilderness about him; no longer was there +defiance in the poise of his splendid head, or the flash of eager fire +in his bloodshot eyes. His breath came with a gasping sound that was +growing more and more distinct. A hunter would have known what it meant. +The stiletto-point of the younger bull's antler had gone home, and the +old bull's lungs were failing him. More than once Gray Wolf had heard +that sound in the early days of her hunting with the pack, and she +understood. Slowly she began to circle about the wounded monarch at a +distance of about twenty yards. Kazan kept at her side.</p> + +<p>Once—twice—twenty times they made that slow circle, and with each turn +they made the old bull turned, and his breath grew heavier and his head +drooped lower. Noon came, and was followed by the more intense cold of +the last half of the day. Twenty circles became a hundred—two +hundred—and more. Under Gray Wolf's and Kazan's feet the snow grew hard +in the path they made. Under the old bull's widespread hoofs the snow +was no longer white—but red. A thousand times before this unseen +tragedy of the wilderness had been enacted. It was an epoch of that life +where life itself means the survival of the fittest, where to live means +to kill, and to die means to perpetuate life. At last, in that steady +and deadly circling of Gray Wolf and Kazan, there came a time when the +old bull did not turn—then a second, a third and a fourth time, and +Gray Wolf seemed to know. With Kazan she drew back from the hard-beaten +trail, and they flattened themselves on their bellies under a dwarf +spruce—and waited. For many minutes the bull stood motionless, his +hamstrung quarter sinking lower and lower. And then with a deep +blood-choked gasp he sank down.</p> + +<p>For a long time Kazan and Gray Wolf did not move, and when at last they +returned to the beaten trail the bull's heavy head was resting on the +snow. Again they began to circle, and now the circle narrowed foot by +foot, until only ten yards—then nine—then eight—separated them from +their prey. The bull attempted to rise, and failed. Gray Wolf heard the +effort. She heard him sink back and suddenly she leaped in swiftly and +silently from behind. Her sharp fangs buried themselves in the bull's +nostrils, and with the first instinct of the husky, Kazan sprang for a +throat hold. This time he was not flung off. It was Gray Wolf's terrible +hold that gave him time to tear through the half-inch hide, and to bury +his teeth deeper and deeper, until at last they reached the jugular. A +gush of warm blood spurted into his face. But he did not let go. Just as +he had held to the jugular of his first buck on that moonlight night a +long time ago, so he held to the old bull now. It was Gray Wolf who +unclamped his jaws. She drew back, sniffing the air, listening. Then, +slowly, she raised her head, and through the frozen and starving +wilderness there went her wailing triumphant cry—the call to meat.</p> + +<p>For them the days of famine had passed.</p> + + + + +<a name="14"></a> +<h2>Chapter XIV</h2> + +<h3>The Right Of Fang</h3> + +<p>After the fight Kazan lay down exhausted in the blood-stained snow, +while faithful Gray Wolf, still filled with the endurance of her wild +wolf breed, tore fiercely at the thick skin on the bull's neck to lay +open the red flesh. When she had done this she did not eat, but ran to +Kazan's side and whined softly as she muzzled him with her nose. After +that they feasted, crouching side by side at the bull's neck and tearing +at the warm sweet flesh.</p> + +<p>The last pale light of the northern day was fading swiftly into night +when they drew back, gorged until there were no longer hollows in their +sides. The faint wind died away. The clouds that had hung in the sky +during the day drifted eastward, and the moon shone brilliant and clear. +For an hour the night continued to grow lighter. To the brilliance of +the moon and the stars there was added now the pale fires of the aurora +borealis, shivering and flashing over the Pole.</p> + +<p>Its hissing crackling monotone, like the creaking of steel +sledge-runners on frost-filled snow, came faintly to the ears of Kazan +and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>As yet they had not gone a hundred yards from the dead bull, and at the +first sound of that strange mystery in the northern skies they stopped +and listened to it, alert and suspicious. Then they laid their ears +aslant and trotted slowly back to the meat they had killed. Instinct +told them that it was theirs only by right of fang. They had fought to +kill it. And it was in the law of the wild that they would have to fight +to keep it. In good hunting days they would have gone on and wandered +under the moon and the stars. But long days and nights of starvation had +taught them something different now.</p> + +<p>On that clear and stormless night following the days of plague and +famine, a hundred thousand hungry creatures came out from their retreats +to hunt for food. For eighteen hundred miles east and west and a +thousand miles north and south, slim gaunt-bellied creatures hunted +under the moon and the stars. Something told Kazan and Gray Wolf that +this hunt was on, and never for an instant did they cease their +vigilance. At last they lay down at the edge of the spruce thicket, and +waited. Gray Wolf muzzled Kazan gently with her blind face. The uneasy +whine in her throat was a warning to him. Then she sniffed the air, and +listened—sniffed and listened.</p> + +<p>Suddenly every muscle in their bodies grew rigid. Something living had +passed near them, something that they could not see or hear, and +scarcely scent. It came again, as mysterious as a shadow, and then out +of the air there floated down as silently as a huge snowflake a great +white owl. Kazan saw the hungry winged creature settle on the bull's +shoulder. Like a flash he was out from his cover, Gray Wolf a yard +behind him. With an angry snarl he lunged at the white robber, and his +jaws snapped on empty air. His leap carried him clean over the bull. He +turned, but the owl was gone.</p> + +<p>Nearly all of his old strength had returned to him now. He trotted about +the bull, the hair along his spine bristling like a brush, his eyes +wide and menacing. He snarled at the still air. His jaws clicked, and he +sat back on his haunches and faced the blood-stained trail that the +moose had left before he died. Again that instinct as infallible as +reason told him that danger would come from there.</p> + +<p>Like a red ribbon the trail ran back through the wilderness. The little +swift-moving ermine were everywhere this night, looking like white rats +as they dodged about in the moonlight. They were first to find the +trail, and with all the ferocity of their blood-eating nature followed +it with quick exciting leaps. A fox caught the scent of it a quarter of +a mile to windward, and came nearer. From out of a deep windfall a +beady-eyed, thin-bellied fisher-cat came forth, and stopped with his +feet in the crimson ribbon.</p> + +<p>It was the fisher-cat that brought Kazan out; from under his cover of +spruce again. In the moonlight there was a sharp quick fight, a snarling +and scratching, a cat-like yowl of pain, and the fisher forgot his +hunger in flight. Kazan returned to Gray Wolf with a lacerated and +bleeding nose. Gray Wolf licked it sympathetically, while Kazan stood +rigid and listening.</p> + +<p>The fox swung swiftly away with the wind, warned by the sounds of +conflict. He was not a fighter, but a murderer who killed from behind, +and a little later he leaped upon an owl and tore it into bits for the +half-pound of flesh within the mass of feathers.</p> + +<p>But nothing could drive back those little white outlaws of the +wilderness—the ermine. They would have stolen between the feet of man +to get at the warm flesh and blood of the freshly killed bull. Kazan +hunted them savagely. They were too quick for him, more like elusive +flashes in the moonlight than things of life. They burrowed under the +old bull's body and fed while he raved and filled his mouth with snow. +Gray Wolf sat placidly on her haunches. The little ermine did not +trouble her, and after a time Kazan realized this, and flung himself +down beside her, panting and exhausted.</p> + +<p>For a long time after that the night was almost unbroken by sound. Once +in the far distance there came the cry of a wolf, and now and then, to +punctuate the deathly silence, the snow owl hooted in blood-curdling +protest from his home in the spruce-tops. The moon was straight above +the old bull when Gray Wolf scented the first real danger. Instantly she +gave the warning to Kazan and faced the bloody trail, her lithe body +quivering, her fangs gleaming in the starlight, a snarling whine in her +throat. Only in the face of their deadliest enemy, the lynx—the +terrible fighter who had blinded her long ago in that battle on the Sun +Rock!—did she give such warning as this to Kazan. He sprang ahead of +her, ready for battle even before he caught the scent of the gray +beautiful creature of death stealing over the trail.</p> + +<p>Then came the interruption. From a mile away there burst forth a single +fierce long-drawn howl.</p> + +<p>After all, that was the cry of the true master of the wilderness—the +wolf. It was the cry of hunger. It was the cry that sent men's blood +running more swiftly through their veins, that brought the moose and the +deer to their feet shivering in every limb—the cry that wailed like a +note of death through swamp and forest and over the snow-smothered +ridges until its faintest echoes reached for miles into the starlit +night.</p> + +<p>There was silence, and in that awesome stillness Kazan and Gray Wolf +stood shoulder to shoulder facing the cry, and in response to that cry +there worked within them a strange and mystic change, for what they had +heard was not a warning or a menace but the call of Brotherhood. Away +off there—beyond the lynx and the fox and the fisher-cat, were the +creatures of their kind, the wild-wolf pack, to which the right to all +flesh and blood was common—in which existed that savage socialism of +the wilderness, the Brotherhood of the Wolf. And Gray Wolf, setting back +on her haunches, sent forth the response to that cry—a wailing +triumphant note that told her hungry brethren there was feasting at the +end of the trail.</p> + +<p>And the lynx, between those two cries, sneaked off into the wide and +moonlit spaces of the forest.</p> + + + + +<a name="15"></a> +<h2>Chapter XV</h2> + +<h3>A Fight Under The Stars</h3> + +<p>On their haunches Kazan and Gray Wolf waited. Five minutes passed, +ten—fifteen—and Gray Wolf became uneasy. No response had followed her +call. Again she howled, with Kazan quivering and listening beside her, +and again there followed that dead stillness of the night. This was not +the way of the pack. She knew that it had not gone beyond the reach of +her voice and its silence puzzled her. And then in a flash it came to +them both that the pack, or the single wolf whose cry they had heard, +was very near them. The scent was warm. A few moments later Kazan saw a +moving object in the moonlight. It was followed by another, and still +another, until there were five slouching in a half-circle about them, +seventy yards away. Then they laid themselves flat in the snow and were +motionless.</p> + +<p>A snarl turned Kazan's eyes to Gray Wolf. His blind mate had drawn +back. Her white fangs gleamed menacingly in the starlight. Her ears were +flat. Kazan was puzzled. Why was she signaling danger to him when it was +the wolf, and not the lynx, out there in the snow? And why did the +wolves not come in and feast? Slowly he moved toward them, and Gray Wolf +called to him with her whine. He paid no attention to her, but went on, +stepping lightly, his head high in the air, his spine bristling.</p> + +<p>In the scent of the strangers, Kazan was catching something now that was +strangely familiar. It drew him toward them more swiftly and when at +last he stopped twenty yards from where the little group lay flattened +in the snow, his thick brush waved slightly. One of the animals sprang +up and approached. The others followed and in another moment Kazan was +in the midst of them, smelling and smelled, and wagging his tail. They +were dogs, and not wolves.</p> + +<p>In some lonely cabin in the wilderness their master had died, and they +had taken to the forests. They still bore signs of the sledge-traces. +About their necks were moose-hide collars. The hair was worn short at +their flanks, and one still dragged after him three feet of corded +babiche trace. Their eyes gleamed red and hungry in the glow of the moon +and the stars. They were thin, and gaunt and starved, and Kazan suddenly +turned and trotted ahead of them to the side of the dead bull. Then he +fell back and sat proudly on his haunches beside Gray Wolf, listening to +the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh as the starved pack +feasted.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf slunk closer to Kazan. She muzzled his neck and Kazan gave her +a swift dog-like caress of his tongue, assuring her that all was well. +She flattened herself in the snow when the dogs had finished and came up +in their dog way to sniff at her, and make closer acquaintance with +Kazan. Kazan towered over her, guarding her. One huge red-eyed dog who +still dragged the bit of babiche trace muzzled Gray Wolf's soft neck for +a fraction of a second too long, and Kazan uttered a savage snarl of +warning. The dog drew back, and for a moment their fangs gleamed over +Gray Wolf's blind face. It was the Challenge of the Breed.</p> + +<p>The big husky was the leader of the pack, and if one of the other dogs +had snarled at him, as Kazan snarled he would have leaped at his throat. +But in Kazan, standing fierce and half wild over Gray Wolf, he +recognized none of the serfdom of the sledge-dogs. It was master facing +master; in Kazan it was more than that for he was Gray Wolf's mate. In +an instant more he would have leaped over her body to have fought for +her, more than for the right of leadership. But the big husky turned +away sullenly, growling, still snarling, and vented his rage by nipping +fiercely at the flank of one of his sledge-mates.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf understood what had happened, though she could not see. She +shrank closer to Kazan. She knew that the moon and the stars had looked +down on that thing that always meant death—the challenge to the right +of mate. With her luring coyness, whining and softly muzzling his +shoulder and neck, she tried to draw Kazan away from the pad-beaten +circle in which the bull lay. Kazan's answer was an ominous rolling of +smothered thunder deep down in his throat. He lay down beside her, +licked her blind face swiftly, and faced the stranger dogs.</p> + +<p>The moon sank lower and lower and at last dropped behind the western +forests. The stars grew paler. One by one they faded from the sky and +after a time there followed the cold gray dawn of the North. In that +dawn the big husky leader rose from the hole he had made in the snow and +returned to the bull. Kazan, alert, was on his feet in an instant and +stood also close to the bull. The two circled ominously, their heads +lowered, their crests bristling. The husky drew away, and Kazan crouched +at the bull's neck and began tearing at the frozen flesh. He was not +hungry. But in this way he showed his right to the flesh, his defiance +of the right of the big husky.</p> + +<p>For a few seconds he forgot Gray Wolf. The husky had slipped back like a +shadow and now he stood again over Gray Wolf, sniffing her neck and +body. Then he whined. In that whine were the passion, the invitation, +the demand of the Wild. So quickly that the eye could scarcely follow +her movement faithful Gray Wolf sank her gleaming fangs in the husky's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>A gray streak—nothing more tangible than a streak of gray, silent and +terrible, shot through the dawn-gloom. It was Kazan. He came without a +snarl, without a cry, and in a moment he and the husky were in the +throes of terrific battle.</p> + +<p>The four other huskies ran in quickly and stood waiting a dozen paces +from the combatants. Gray Wolf lay crouched on her belly. The giant +husky and the quarter-strain wolf-dog were not fighting like sledge-dog +or wolf. For a few moments rage and hatred made them fight like +mongrels. Both had holds. Now one was down, and now the other, and so +swiftly did they change their positions that the four waiting +sledge-dogs were puzzled and stood motionless. Under other conditions +they would have leaped upon the first of the fighters to be thrown upon +his back and torn him to pieces. That was the way of the wolf and the +wolf-dog. But now they stood back, hesitating and fearful.</p> + +<p>The big husky had never been beaten in battle. Great Dane ancestors had +given him a huge bulk and a jaw that could crush an ordinary dog's head. +But in Kazan he was meeting not only the dog and the wolf, but all that +was best in the two. And Kazan had the advantage of a few hours of rest +and a full stomach. More than that, he was fighting for Gray Wolf. His +fangs had sunk deep in the husky's shoulder, and the husky's long teeth +met through the hide and flesh of his neck. An inch deeper, and they +would have pierced his jugular. Kazan knew this, as he crunched his +enemy's shoulder-bone, and every instant—even in their fiercest +struggling—he was guarding against a second and more successful lunge +of those powerful jaws.</p> + +<p>At last the lunge came, and quicker than the wolf itself Kazan freed +himself and leaped back. His chest dripped blood, but he did not feel +the hurt. They began slowly to circle, and now the watching sledge-dogs +drew a step or two nearer, and their jaws drooled nervously and their +red eyes glared as they waited for the fatal moment. Their eyes were on +the big husky. He became the pivot of Kazan's wider circle now, and he +limped as he turned. His shoulder was broken. His ears were flattened +as he watched Kazan.</p> + +<p>Kazan's ears were erect, and his feet touched the snow lightly. All his +fighting cleverness and all his caution had returned to him. The blind +rage of a few moments was gone and he fought now as he had fought his +deadliest enemy, the long-clawed lynx. Five times he circled around the +husky, and then like a shot he was in, sending his whole weight against +the husky's shoulder, with the momentum of a ten-foot leap behind it. +This time he did not try for a hold, but slashed at the husky's jaws. It +was the deadliest of all attacks when that merciless tribunal of death +stood waiting for the first fall of the vanquished. The huge dog was +thrown from his feet. For a fatal moment he rolled upon his side and in +the moment his four sledge-mates were upon him. All of their hatred of +the weeks and months in which the long-fanged leader had bullied them in +the traces was concentrated upon him now and he was literally torn into +pieces.</p> + +<p>Kazan pranced to Gray Wolf's side and with a joyful whine she laid her +head over his neck. Twice he had fought the Fight of Death for her. +Twice he had won. And in her blindness Gray Wolf's soul—if soul she +had—rose in exultation to the cold gray sky, and her breast panted +against Kazan's shoulder as she listened to the crunching of fangs in +the flesh and bone of the foe her lord and master had overthrown.</p> + + + + +<a name="16"></a> +<h2>Chapter XVI</h2> + +<h3>The Call</h3> + +<p>Followed days of feasting on the frozen flesh of the old bull. In vain +Gray Wolf tried to lure Kazan off into the forests and the swamps. Day +by day the temperature rose. There was hunting now. And Gray Wolf wanted +to be alone—with Kazan. But with Kazan, as with most men, leadership +and power roused new sensations. And he was the leader of the dog-pack, +as he had once been a leader among the wolves. Not only Gray Wolf +followed at his flank now, but the four huskies trailed behind him. Once +more he was experiencing that triumph and strange thrill that he had +almost forgotten and only Gray Wolf, in that eternal night of her +blindness, felt with dread foreboding the danger into which his newly +achieved czarship might lead him.</p> + +<p>For three days and three nights they remained in the neighborhood of the +dead moose, ready to defend it against others, and yet each day and +each night growing less vigilant in their guard. Then came the fourth +night, on which they killed a young doe. Kazan led in that chase and for +the first time, in the excitement of having the pack at his back, he +left his blind mate behind. When they came to the kill he was the first +to leap at its soft throat. And not until he had begun to tear at the +doe's flesh did the others dare to eat. He was master. He could send +them back with a snarl. At the gleam of his fangs they crouched +quivering on their bellies in the snow.</p> + +<p>Kazan's blood was fomented with brute exultation, and the excitement and +fascination that came in the possession of new power took the place of +Gray Wolf each day a little more. She came in half an hour after the +kill, and there was no longer the lithesome alertness to her slender +legs, or gladness in the tilt of her ears or the poise of her head. She +did not eat much of the doe. Her blind face was turned always in Kazan's +direction. Wherever he moved she followed with her unseeing eyes, as if +expecting each moment his old signal to her—that low throat-note that +had called to her so often when they were alone in the wilderness.</p> + +<p>In Kazan, as leader of the pack, there was working a curious change. If +his mates had been wolves it would not have been difficult for Gray Wolf +to have lured him away. But Kazan was among his own kind. He was a dog. +And they were dogs. Fires that had burned down and ceased to warm him +flamed up in him anew. In his life with Gray Wolf one thing had +oppressed him as it could not oppress her, and that thing was +loneliness. Nature had created him of that kind which requires +companionship—not of one but of many. It had given him birth that he +might listen to and obey the commands of the voice of man. He had grown +to hate men, but of the dogs—his kind—he was a part. He had been happy +with Gray Wolf, happier than he had ever been in the companionship of +men and his blood-brothers. But he had been a long time separated from +the life that had once been his and the call of blood made him for a +time forget. And only Gray Wolf, with that wonderful super-instinct +which nature was giving her in place of her lost sight, foresaw the end +to which it was leading him.</p> + +<p>Each day the temperature continued to rise until when the sun was +warmest the snow began to thaw a little. This was two weeks after the +fight near the bull. Gradually the pack had swung eastward, until it was +now fifty miles east and twenty miles south of the old home under the +windfall. More than ever Gray Wolf began to long for their old nest +under the fallen trees. Again with those first promises of spring in +sunshine and air, there was coming also for the second time in her life +the promise of approaching motherhood.</p> + +<p>But her efforts to draw Kazan back were unavailing, and in spite of her +protest he wandered each day a little farther east and south at the head +of his pack.</p> + +<p>Instinct impelled the four huskies to move in that direction. They had +not yet been long enough a part of the wild to forget the necessity of +man and in that direction there was man. In that direction, and not far +from them now, was the Hudson Bay Company's post to which they and their +dead master owed their allegiance. Kazan did not know this, but one day +something happened to bring back visions and desires that widened still +more the gulf between him and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>They had come to the cap of a ridge when something stopped them. It was +a man's voice crying shrilly that word of long ago that had so often +stirred the blood in Kazan's own veins—"<i>m'hoosh! m'hoosh! +m'hoosh!"</i>—and from the ridge they looked down upon the open space of +the plain, where a team of six dogs was trotting ahead of a sledge, with +a man running behind them, urging them on at every other step with that +cry of "<i>m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!"</i></p> + +<p>Trembling and undecided, the four huskies and the wolf-dog stood on the +ridge with Gray Wolf cringing behind them. Not until man and dogs and +sledge had disappeared did they move, and then they trotted down to the +trail and sniffed at it whiningly and excitedly. For a mile or two they +followed it, Kazan and his mates going fearlessly in the trail. Gray +Wolf hung back, traveling twenty yards to the right of them, with the +hot man-scent driving the blood feverishly through her brain. Only her +love for Kazan—and the faith she still had in him—kept her that near.</p> + +<p>At the edge of a swamp Kazan halted and turned away from the trail. With +the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion +which nothing could quite wipe out—the suspicion that was an +inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf. Gray Wolf whined joyfully +when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her +shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side.</p> + +<p>The "slush" snows followed fast after this. And the "slush" snows meant +spring—and the emptying of the wilderness of human life. Kazan and his +mates soon began to scent the presence and the movement of this life. +They were now within thirty miles of the post. For a hundred miles on +all sides of them the trappers were moving in with their late winter's +catch of furs. From east and west, south and north, all trails led to +the post. The pack was caught in the mesh of them. For a week not a day +passed that they did not cross a fresh trail, and sometimes two or +three.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf was haunted by constant fear. In her blindness she knew that +they were surrounded by the menace of men. To Kazan what was coming to +pass had more and more ceased to fill him with fear and caution. Three +times that week he heard the shouts of men—and once he heard a white +man's laughter and the barking of dogs as their master tossed them their +daily feed of fish. In the air he caught the pungent scent of camp-fires +and one night, in the far distance, he heard a wild snatch of song, +followed by the yelping and barking of a dog-pack.</p> + +<p>Slowly and surely the lure of man drew him nearer to the post—a mile +to-night, two miles to-morrow, but always nearer. And Gray Wolf, +fighting her losing fight to the end, sensed in the danger-filled air +the nearness of that hour when he would respond to the final call and +she would be left alone.</p> + +<p>These were days of activity and excitement at the fur company's post, +the days of accounting, of profit and of pleasure;—the days when the +wilderness poured in its treasure of fur, to be sent a little later to +London and Paris and the capitals of Europe. And this year there was +more than the usual interest in the foregathering of the forest people. +The plague had wrought its terrible havoc, and not until the fur-hunters +had come to answer to the spring roll-call would it be known accurately +who had lived and who had died.</p> + +<p>The Chippewans and half-breeds from the south began to arrive first, +with their teams of mongrel curs, picked up along the borders of +civilization. Close after them came the hunters from the western barren +lands, bringing with them loads of white fox and caribou skins, and an +army of big-footed, long-legged Mackenzie hounds that pulled like horses +and wailed like whipped puppies when the huskies and Eskimo dogs set +upon them. Packs of fierce Labrador dogs, never vanquished except by +death, came from close to Hudson's Bay. Team after team of little yellow +and gray Eskimo dogs, as quick with their fangs as were their black and +swift-running masters with their hands and feet, met the much larger and +dark-colored Malemutes from the Athabasca. Enemies of all these packs of +fierce huskies trailed in from all sides, fighting, snapping and +snarling, with the lust of killing deep born in them from their wolf +progenitors.</p> + +<p>There was no cessation in the battle of the fangs. It began with the +first brute arrivals. It continued from dawn through the day and around +the camp-fires at night. There was never an end to the strife between +the dogs, and between the men and the dogs. The snow was trailed and +stained with blood and the scent of it added greater fierceness to the +wolf-breeds.</p> + +<p>Half a dozen battles were fought to the death each day and night. Those +that died were chiefly the south-bred curs—mixtures of mastiff, Great +Dane, and sheep-dog—and the fatally slow Mackenzie hounds. About the +post rose the smoke of a hundred camp-fires, and about these fires +gathered the women and the children of the hunters. When the snow was no +longer fit for sledging, Williams, the factor, noted that there were +many who had not come, and the accounts of these he later scratched out +of his ledgers knowing that they were victims of the plague.</p> + +<p>At last came the night of the Big Carnival, For weeks and months women +and children and men had been looking forward to this. In scores of +forest cabins, in smoke-blackened tepees, and even in the frozen homes +of the little Eskimos, anticipation of this wild night of pleasure had +given an added zest to life. It was the Big Circus—the good time given +twice each year by the company to its people.</p> + +<p>This year, to offset the memory of plague and death, the factor had put +forth unusual exertions. His hunters had killed four fat caribou. In the +clearing there were great piles of dry logs, and in the center of all +there rose eight ten-foot tree-butts crotched at the top; and from +crotch to crotch there rested a stout sapling stripped of bark, and on +each sapling was spitted the carcass of a caribou, to be roasted whole +by the heat of the fire beneath. The fires were lighted at dusk, and +Williams himself started the first of those wild songs of the +Northland—the song of the caribou, as the flames leaped up into the +dark night.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo,<br /> +He roas' on high,<br /> +Jes' under ze sky.<br /> +air-holes beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Now!" he yelled. "Now—all together!" And carried away by his +enthusiasm, the forest people awakened from their silence of months, +and the song burst forth in a savage frenzy that reached to the skies.</p> + +<hr width="25%" size="1" /> + +<p>Two miles to the south and west that first thunder of human voice +reached the ears of Kazan and Gray Wolf and the masterless huskies. And +with the voices of men they heard now the excited howlings of dogs. The +huskies faced the direction of the sounds, moving restlessly and +whining. For a few moments Kazan stood as though carven of rock. Then he +turned his head, and his first look was to Gray Wolf. She had slunk back +a dozen feet and lay crouched under the thick cover of a balsam shrub. +Her body, legs and neck were flattened in the snow. She made no sound, +but her lips were drawn back and her teeth shone white.</p> + +<p>Kazan trotted back to her, sniffed at her blind face and whined. Gray +Wolf still did not move. He returned to the dogs and his jaws opened and +closed with a snap. Still more clearly came the wild voice of the +carnival, and no longer to be held back by Kazan's leadership, the four +huskies dropped their heads and slunk like shadows in its direction. +Kazan hesitated, urging Gray Wolf. But not a muscle of Gray Wolf's body +moved. She would have followed him in face of fire but not in face of +man. Not a sound escaped her ears. She heard the quick fall of Kazan's +feet as he left her. In another moment she knew that he was gone. +Then—and not until then—did she lift her head, and from her soft +throat there broke a whimpering cry.</p> + +<p>It was her last call to Kazan. But stronger than that there was running +through Kazan's excited blood the call of man and of dog. The huskies +were far in advance of him now and for a few moments he raced madly to +overtake them. Then he slowed down until he was trotting, and a hundred +yards farther on he stopped. Less than a mile away he could see where +the flames of the great fires were reddening the sky. He gazed back to +see if Gray Wolf was following and then went on until he struck an open +and hard traveled trail. It was beaten with the footprints of men and +dogs, and over it two of the caribou had been dragged a day or two +before.</p> + +<p>At last he came to the thinned out strip of timber that surrounded the +clearing and the flare of the flames was in his eyes. The bedlam of +sound that came to him now was like fire in his brain. He heard the song +and the laughter of men, the shrill cries of women and children, the +barking and snarling and fighting of a hundred dogs. He wanted to rush +out and join them, to become again a part of what he had once been. Yard +by yard he sneaked through the thin timber until he reached the edge of +the clearing. There he stood in the shadow of a spruce and looked out +upon life as he had once lived it, trembling, wistful and yet hesitating +in that final moment.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards away was the savage circle of men and dogs and fire. His +nostrils were filled with the rich aroma of the roasting caribou, and as +he crouched down, still with that wolfish caution that Gray Wolf had +taught him, men with long poles brought the huge carcasses crashing down +upon the melting snow about the fires. In one great rush the horde of +wild revelers crowded in with bared knives, and a snarling mass of dogs +closed in behind them. In another moment he had forgotten Gray Wolf, had +forgotten all that man and the wild had taught him, and like a gray +streak was across the open.</p> + +<p>The dogs were surging back when he reached them, with half a dozen of +the factor's men lashing them in the faces with long caribou-gut whips. +The sting of a lash fell in a fierce cut over an Eskimo dog's shoulder, +and in snapping at the lash his fangs struck Kazan's rump. With +lightning swiftness Kazan returned the cut, and in an instant the jaws +of the dogs had met. In another instant they were down and Kazan had the +Eskimo dog by the throat.</p> + +<p>With shouts the men rushed in. Again and again their whips cut like +knives through the air. Their blows fell on Kazan, who was uppermost, +and as he felt the burning pain of the scourging whips there flooded +through him all at once the fierce memory of the days of old—the days +of the Club and the Lash. He snarled. Slowly he loosened his hold of the +Eskimo dog's throat. And then, out of the mêlée of dogs and men, there +sprang another man—<i>with a club</i>! It fell on Kazan's back and the force +of it sent him flat into the snow. It was raised again. Behind the club +there was a face—a brutal, fire-reddened face. It was such a face that +had driven Kazan into the wild, and as the club fell again he evaded the +full weight of its blow and his fangs gleamed like ivory knives. A third +time the club was raised, and this time Kazan met it in mid-air, and his +teeth ripped the length of the man's forearm.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" shrieked the man in pain, and Kazan caught the gleam of a +rifle barrel as he sped toward the forest. A shot followed. Something +like a red-hot coal ran the length of Kazan's hip, and deep in the +forest he stopped to lick at the burning furrow where the bullet had +gone just deep enough to take the skin and hair from his flesh.</p> + +<hr width="25%" size="1" /> + +<p>Gray Wolf was still waiting under the balsam shrub when Kazan returned +to her. Joyously she sprang forth to meet him. Once more the man had +sent back the old Kazan to her. He muzzled her neck and face, and stood +for a few moments with his head resting across her back, listening to +the distant sound.</p> + +<p>Then, with ears laid flat, he set out straight into the north and west. +And now Gray Wolf ran shoulder to shoulder with him like the Gray Wolf +of the days before the dog-pack came; for that wonderful thing that lay +beyond the realm of reason told her that once more she was comrade and +mate, and that their trail that night was leading to their old home +under the windfall.</p> + + + + +<a name="17"></a> +<h2>Chapter XVII</h2> + +<h3>His Son</h3> + +<p>It happened that Kazan was to remember three things above all others. He +could never quite forget his old days in the traces, though they were +growing more shadowy and indistinct in his memory as the summers and the +winters passed. Like a dream there came to him a memory of the time he +had gone down to Civilization. Like dreams were the visions that rose +before him now and then of the face of the First Woman, and of the faces +of masters who—to him—had lived ages ago. And never would he quite +forget the Fire, and his fights with man and beast, and his long chases +in the moonlight. But two things were always with him as if they had +been but yesterday, rising clear and unforgetable above all others, like +the two stars in the North that never lost their brilliance. One was +Woman. The other was the terrible fight of that night on the top of the +Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded forever his wild mate, Gray Wolf. +Certain events remain indelibly fixed in the minds of men; and so, in a +not very different way, they remain in the minds of beasts. It takes +neither brain nor reason to measure the depths of sorrow or of +happiness. And Kazan in his unreasoning way knew that contentment and +peace, a full stomach, and caresses and kind words instead of blows had +come to him through Woman, and that comradeship in the wilderness—faith, +loyalty and devotion—were a part of Gray Wolf. The third unforgetable +thing was about to occur in the home they had found for themselves under +the swamp windfall during the days of cold and famine.</p> + +<p>They had left the swamp over a month before when it was smothered deep +in snow. On the day they returned to it the sun was shining warmly in +the first glorious days of spring warmth. Everywhere, big and small, +there were the rushing torrents of melting snows and the crackle of +crumbling ice, the dying cries of thawing rock and earth and tree, and +each night for many nights past the cold pale glow of the aurora +borealis had crept farther and farther toward the Pole in fading glory. +So early as this the poplar buds had begun to swell and the air was +filled with the sweet odor of balsam, spruce and cedar. Where there had +been famine and death and stillness six weeks before, Kazan and Gray +Wolf now stood at the edge of the swamp and breathed the earthy smells +of spring, and listened to the sounds of life. Over their heads a pair +of newly-mated moose-birds fluttered and scolded at them. A big jay sat +pluming himself in the sunshine. Farther in they heard the crack of a +stick broken under a heavy hoof. From the ridge behind them they caught +the raw scent of a mother bear, busy pulling down the tender poplar buds +for her six-weeks-old cubs, born while she was still deep in her winter +sleep.</p> + +<p>In the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air there breathed to +Gray Wolf the mystery of matehood and of motherhood. She whined softly +and rubbed her blind face against Kazan. For days, in her way, she tried +to tell him. More than ever she wanted to curl herself up in that warm +dry nest under the windfall. She had no desire to hunt. The crack of +the dry stick under a cloven hoof and the warm scent of the she-bear and +her cubs roused none of the old instincts in her. She wanted to curl +herself up in the old windfall—and wait. And she tried hard to make +Kazan understand her desire.</p> + +<p>Now that the snow was gone they found that a narrow creek lay between +them and the knoll on which the windfall was situated. Gray Wolf picked +up her ears at the tumult of the little torrent. Since the day of the +Fire, when Kazan and she had saved themselves on the sand-bar, she had +ceased to have the inherent wolf horror of water. She followed +fearlessly, even eagerly, behind Kazan as he sought a place where they +could ford the rushing little stream. On the other side Kazan could see +the big windfall. Gray Wolf could <i>smell</i> it and she whined joyously, +with her blind face turned toward it. A hundred yards up the stream a +big cedar had fallen over it and Kazan began to cross. For a moment Gray +Wolf hesitated, and then followed. Side by side they trotted to the +windfall. With their heads and shoulders in the dark opening to their +nest they scented the air long and cautiously. Then they entered. Kazan +heard Gray Wolf as she flung herself down on the dry floor of the snug +cavern. She was panting, not from exhaustion, but because she was filled +with a sensation of contentment and happiness. In the darkness Kazan's +own jaws fell apart. He, too, was glad to get back to their old home. He +went to Gray Wolf and, panting still harder, she licked his face. It had +but one meaning. And Kazan understood.</p> + +<p>For a moment he lay down beside her, listening, and eyeing the opening +to their nest. Then he began to sniff about the log walls. He was close +to the opening when a sudden fresh scent came to him, and he grew rigid, +and his bristles stood up. The scent was followed by a whimpering, +babyish chatter. A porcupine entered the opening and proceeded to +advance in its foolish fashion, still chattering in that babyish way +that has made its life inviolable at the hands of man. Kazan had heard +that sound before, and like all other beasts had learned to ignore the +presence of the innocuous creature that made it. But just now he did not +stop to consider that what he saw was a porcupine and that at his first +snarl the good-humored little creature would waddle away as fast as it +could, still chattering baby talk to itself. His first reasoning was +that it was a live thing invading the home to which Gray Wolf and he had +just returned. A day later, or perhaps an hour later, he would have +driven it back with a growl. Now he leaped upon it.</p> + +<p>A wild chattering, intermingled with pig-like squeaks, and then a rising +staccato of howls followed the attack. Gray Wolf sprang to the opening. +The porcupine was rolled up in a thousand-spiked ball a dozen feet away, +and she could hear Kazan tearing about in the throes of the direst agony +that can befall a beast of the forests. His face and nose were a mat of +quills. For a few moments he rolled and dug in the wet mold and earth, +pawing madly at the things that pierced his flesh. Then he set off like +all dogs will who have come into contact with the friendly porcupine, +and raced again and again around the windfall, howling at every jump. +Gray Wolf took the matter coolly. It is possible that at times there are +moments of humor in the lives of animals. If so, she saw this one. She +scented the porcupine and she knew that Kazan was full of quills. As +there was nothing to do and nothing to fight she sat back on her +haunches and waited, pricking up her ears every time Kazan passed her in +his mad circuit around the windfall. At his fourth or fifth heat the +porcupine smoothed itself down a little, and continuing the interrupted +thread of its chatter waddled to a near-by poplar, climbed it and began +to gnaw the tender bark from a limb.</p> + +<p>At last Kazan halted before Gray Wolf. The first agony of a hundred +little needles piercing his flesh had deadened into a steady burning +pain. Gray Wolf went over to him and investigated him cautiously. With +her teeth she seized the ends of two or three of the quills and pulled +them out. Kazan was very much dog now. He gave a yelp, and whimpered as +Gray Wolf jerked out a second bunch of quills. Then he flattened himself +on his belly, stretched out his forelegs, closed his eyes, and without +any other sound except an occasional yelp of pain allowed Gray Wolf to +go on with the operation. Fortunately he had escaped getting any of the +quills in his mouth and tongue. But his nose and jaws were soon red +with blood. For an hour Gray Wolf kept faithfully at her task and by the +end of that time had succeeded in pulling out most of the quills. A few +still remained, too short and too deeply inbedded for her to extract +with her teeth.</p> + +<p>After this Kazan went down to the creek and buried his burning muzzle in +the cold water. This gave him some relief, but only for a short time. +The quills that remained worked their way deeper and deeper into his +flesh, like living things. Nose and lips began to swell. Blood and +saliva dripped from his mouth and his eyes grew red. Two hours after +Gray Wolf had retired to her nest under the windfall a quill had +completely pierced his lip and began to prick his tongue. In desperation +Kazan chewed viciously upon a piece of wood. This broke and crumpled the +quill, and destroyed its power to do further harm. Nature had told him +the one thing to do to save himself. Most of that day he spent in +gnawing at wood and crunching mouthfuls of earth and mold between his +jaws. In this way the barb-toothed points of the quills were dulled and +broken as they came through. At dusk he crawled under the windfall, and +Gray Wolf gently licked his muzzle with her soft cool tongue. Frequently +during the night Kazan went to the creek and found relief in its +ice-cold water.</p> + +<p>The next day he had what the forest people call "porcupine mumps." His +face was swollen until Gray Wolf would have laughed if she had been +human, and not blind. His chops bulged like cushions. His eyes were mere +slits. When he went out into the day he blinked, for he could see +scarcely better than his sightless mate. But the pain was mostly gone. +The night that followed he began to think of hunting, and the next +morning before it was yet dawn he brought a rabbit into their den. A few +hours later he would have brought a spruce partridge to Gray Wolf, but +just as he was about to spring upon his feathered prey the soft chatter +of a porcupine a few yards away brought him to a sudden stop. Few things +could make Kazan drop his tail. But that inane and incoherent prattle of +the little spiked beast sent him off at double-quick with his tail +between his legs. As man abhors and evades the creeping serpent, so +Kazan would hereafter evade this little creature of the forests that +never in animal history has been known to lose its good-humor or pick a +quarrel.</p> + +<p>Two weeks of lengthening days, of increasing warmth, of sunshine and +hunting, followed Kazan's adventure with the porcupine. The last of the +snow went rapidly. Out of the earth began to spring tips of green. The +<i>bakneesh</i> vine glistened redder each day, the poplar buds began to +split, and in the sunniest spots, between the rocks of the ridges the +little white snow-flowers began to give a final proof that spring had +come. For the first of those two weeks Gray Wolf hunted frequently with +Kazan. They did not go far. The swamp was alive with small game and each +day or night they killed fresh meat. After the first week Gray Wolf +hunted less. Then came the soft and balmy night, glorious in the +radiance of a full spring moon when she refused to leave the windfall. +Kazan did not urge her. Instinct made him understand, and he did not go +far from the windfall that night in his hunt. When he returned he +brought a rabbit.</p> + +<p>Came then the night when from the darkest corner of the windfall Gray +Wolf warned him back with a low snarl. He stood in the opening, a rabbit +between his jaws. He took no offense at the snarl, but stood for a +moment, gazing into the gloom where Gray Wolf had hidden herself. Then +he dropped the rabbit and lay down squarely in the opening. After a +little he rose restlessly and went outside. But he did not leave the +windfall. It was day when he reentered. He sniffed, as he had sniffed +once before a long time ago, between the boulders at the top of the Sun +Rock. That which was in the air was no longer a mystery to him. He came +nearer and Gray Wolf did not snarl. She whined coaxingly as he touched +her. Then his muzzle found something else. It was soft and warm and made +a queer little sniffling sound. There was a responsive whine in his +throat, and in the darkness came the quick soft caress of Gray Wolf's +tongue. Kazan returned to the sunshine and stretched himself out before +the door of the windfall. His jaws dropped open, for he was filled with +a strange contentment.</p> + + + + +<a name="18"></a> +<h2>Chapter XVIII</h2> + +<h3>The Education Of Ba-Ree</h3> + +<p>Robbed once of the joys of parenthood by the murder on the Sun Rock, +both Gray Wolf and Kazan were different from what they would have been +had the big gray lynx not come into their lives at that time. As if it +were but yesterday they remembered the moonlit night when the lynx +brought blindness to Gray Wolf and destroyed her young, and when Kazan +had avenged himself and his mate in his terrible fight to the death with +their enemy. And now, with that soft little handful of life snuggling +close up against her, Gray Wolf saw through her blind eyes the tragic +picture of that night more vividly than ever and she quivered at every +sound, ready to leap in the face of an unseen foe, to rend all flesh +that was not the flesh of Kazan. And ceaselessly, the slightest sound +bringing him to his feet, Kazan watched and guarded. He mistrusted the +moving shadows. The snapping of a twig drew back his upper lip. His +fangs gleamed menacingly when the soft air brought a strange scent. In +him, too, the memory of the Sun Rock, the death of their first young and +the blinding of Gray Wolf, had given birth to a new instinct. Not for an +instant was he off his guard. As surely as one expects the sun to rise +so did he expect that sooner or later their deadly enemy would creep on +them from out of the forest. In another hour such as this the lynx had +brought death. The lynx had brought blindness. And so day and night he +waited and watched for the lynx to come again. And woe unto any other +creature of flesh and blood that dared approach the windfall in these +first days of Gray Wolf's motherhood!</p> + +<p>But peace had spread its wings of sunshine and plenty over the swamp. +There were no intruders, unless the noisy whisky-jacks, the big-eyed +moose-birds, the chattering bush sparrows, and the wood-mice and ermine +could be called such. After the first day or two Kazan went more +frequently into the windfall, and though more than once he nosed +searchingly about Gray Wolf he could find only the one little pup. A +little farther west the Dog-Ribs would have called the pup Ba-ree for +two reasons—because he had no brothers or sisters, and because he was a +mixture of dog and wolf. He was a sleek and lively little fellow from +the beginning, for there was no division of mother strength and +attention. He developed with the true swiftness of the wolf-whelp, and +not with the slowness of the dog-pup.</p> + +<p>For three days he was satisfied to cuddle close against his mother, +feeding when he was hungry, sleeping a great deal and preened and +laundered almost constantly by Gray Wolf's affectionate tongue. From the +fourth day he grew busier and more inquisitive with every hour. He found +his mother's blind face, with tremendous effort he tumbled over her +paws, and once he lost himself completely and sniffled for help when he +rolled fifteen or eighteen inches away from her. It was not long after +this that he began to recognize Kazan as a part of his mother, and he +was scarcely more than a week old when he rolled himself up contentedly +between Kazan's forelegs and went to sleep. Kazan was puzzled. Then +with a deep sigh Gray Wolf laid her head across one of her mate's +forelegs, with her nose touching her runaway baby, and seemed vastly +contented. For half an hour Kazan did not move.</p> + +<p>When he was ten days old Ba-ree discovered there was great sport in +tussling with a bit of rabbit fur. It was a little later when he made +his second exciting discovery—light and sunshine. The sun had now +reached a point where in the middle of the afternoon a bright gleam of +it found its way through an overhead opening in the windfall. At first +Ba-ree would only stare at the golden streak. Then came the time when he +tried to play with it as he played with the rabbit fur. Each day +thereafter he went a little nearer the opening through which Kazan +passed from the windfall into the big world outside. Finally came the +time when he reached the opening and crouched there, blinking and +frightened at what he saw, and now Gray Wolf no longer tried to hold him +back but went out into the sunshine and tried to call him to her. It was +three days before his weak eyes had grown strong enough to permit his +following her, and very quickly after that Ba-ree learned to love the +sun, the warm air, and the sweetness of life, and to dread the darkness +of the closed-in den where he had been born.</p> + +<p>That this world was not altogether so nice as it at first appeared he +was very soon to learn. At the darkening signs of an approaching storm +one day Gray Wolf tried to lure him back under the windfall. It was her +first warning to Ba-ree and he did not understand. Where Gray Wolf +failed, nature came to teach a first lesson. Ba-ree was caught in a +sudden deluge of rain. It flattened him out in pure terror and he was +drenched and half drowned before Gray Wolf caught him between her jaws +and carried him into shelter. One by one after this the first strange +experiences of life came to him, and one by one his instincts received +their birth. Greatest for him of the days to follow was that on which +his inquisitive nose touched the raw flesh of a freshly killed and +bleeding rabbit. It was his first taste of blood. It was sweet. It +filled him with a strange excitement and thereafter he knew what it +meant when Kazan brought in something between his jaws. He soon began +to battle with sticks in place of the soft fur and his teeth grew as +hard and as sharp as little needles.</p> + +<p>The Great Mystery was bared to him at last when Kazan brought in between +his jaws, a big rabbit that was still alive but so badly crushed that it +could not run when dropped to the ground. Ba-ree had learned to know +what rabbits and partridges meant—the sweet warm blood that he loved +better even than he had ever loved his mother's milk. But they had come +to him dead. He had never seen one of the monsters alive. And now the +rabbit that Kazan dropped to the ground, kicking and struggling with a +broken back, sent Ba-ree back appalled. For a few moments he wonderingly +watched the dying throes of Kazan's prey. Both Kazan and Gray Wolf +seemed to understand that this was to be Ba-ree's first lesson in his +education as a slaying and flesh-eating creature, and they stood close +over the rabbit, making no effort to end its struggles. Half a dozen +times Gray Wolf sniffed at the rabbit and then turned her blind face +toward Ba-ree. After the third or fourth time Kazan stretched himself +out on his belly a few feet away and watched the proceedings +attentively. Each time that Gray Wolf lowered her head to muzzle the +rabbit Ba-ree's little ears shot up expectantly. When he saw that +nothing happened and that his mother was not hurt he came a little +nearer. Soon he could reach out, stiff-legged and cautious, and touch +the furry thing that was not yet dead.</p> + +<p>In a last spasmodic convulsion the big rabbit doubled up its rear legs +and gave a kick that sent Ba-ree sprawling back, yelping in terror. He +regained his feet and then, for the first time, anger and the desire to +retaliate took possession of him. The kick had completed his first +education. He came back with less caution, but stiffer-legged, and a +moment later had dug his tiny teeth in the rabbit's neck. He could feel +the throb of life in the soft body, the muscles of the dying rabbit +twitched convulsively under him, and he hung with his teeth until there +was no longer a tremor of life in his first kill. Gray Wolf was +delighted. She caressed Ba-ree with her tongue, and even Kazan +condescended to sniff approvingly of his son when he returned to the +rabbit. And never before had warm sweet blood tasted so good to Ba-ree +as it did to-day.</p> + +<p>Swiftly Ba-ree developed from a blood-tasting into a flesh-eating +animal. One by one the mysteries of life were unfolded to him—the +mating-night chortle of the gray owl, the crash of a falling tree, the +roll of thunder, the rush of running water, the scream of a fisher-cat, +the mooing of the cow moose, and the distant call of his tribe. But +chief of all these mysteries that were already becoming a part of his +instinct was the mystery of scent. One day he wandered fifty yards away +from the windfall and his little nose touched the warm scent of a +rabbit. Instantly, without reasoning or further process of education, he +knew that to get at the sweet flesh and blood which he loved he must +follow the scent. He wriggled slowly along the trail until he came to a +big log, over which the rabbit had vaulted in a long leap, and from this +log he turned back. Each day after this he went on adventures of his +own. At first he was like an explorer without a compass in a vast and +unknown world. Each day he encountered something new, always wonderful, +frequently terrifying. But his terrors grew less and less and his +confidence correspondingly greater. As he found that none of the things +he feared did him any harm he became more and more bold in his +investigations. And his appearance was changing, as well as his view of +things. His round roly-poly body was taking a different form. He became +lithe and quick. The yellow of his coat darkened, and there was a +whitish-gray streak along his back like that along Kazan's. He had his +mother's under-throat and her beautiful grace of head. Otherwise he was +a true son of Kazan. His limbs gave signs of future strength and +massiveness. He was broad across the chest. His eyes were wide apart, +with a little red in the lower corners. The forest people know what to +expect of husky pups who early develop that drop of red. It is a warning +that they are born of the wild and that their mothers, or fathers, are +of the savage hunt-packs. In Ba-ree that tinge of red was so pronounced +that it could mean but one thing. While he was almost half dog, the wild +had claimed him forever.</p> + +<p>Not until the day of his first real battle with a living creature did +Ba-ree come fully into his inheritance. He had gone farther than usual +from the windfall—fully a hundred yards. Here he found a new wonder. It +was the creek. He had heard it before and he had looked down on it from +afar—from a distance of fifty yards at least. But to-day he ventured +going to the edge of it, and there he stood for a long time, with the +water rippling and singing at his feet, gazing across it into the new +world that he saw. Then he moved cautiously along the stream. He had not +gone a dozen steps when there was a furious fluttering close to him, and +one of the fierce big-eyed jays of the Northland was directly in his +path. It could not fly. One of its wings dragged, probably broken in a +struggle with some one of the smaller preying beasts. But for an instant +it was a most startling and defiant bit of life to Ba-ree.</p> + +<p>Then the grayish crest along his back stiffened and he advanced. The +wounded jay remained motionless until Ba-ree was within three feet of +it. In short quick hops it began to retreat. Instantly Ba-ree's +indecision had flown to the four winds. With one sharp excited yelp he +flew at the defiant bird. For a few moments there was a thrilling race, +and Ba-ree's sharp little teeth buried themselves in the jay's feathers. +Swift as a flash the bird's beak began to strike. The jay was the king +of the smaller birds. In nesting season it killed the brush sparrows, +the mild-eyed moose-birds, and the tree-sappers. Again and again it +struck Ba-ree with its powerful beak, but the son of Kazan had now +reached the age of battle and the pain of the blows only made his own +teeth sink deeper. At last he found the flesh; and a puppyish snarl rose +in his throat. Fortunately he had gained a hold under the wing and after +the first dozen blows the jay's resistance grew weaker. Five minutes +later Ba-ree loosened his teeth and drew back a step to look at the +crumpled and motionless creature before him. The jay was dead. He had +won his first battle. And with victory came the wonderful dawning of +that greatest instinct of all, which told him that no longer was he a +drone in the marvelous mechanism of wilderness life—but a part of it +from this time forth. <i>For he had killed</i>.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Gray Wolf came down over his trail. The jay was torn +into bits. Its feathers were scattered about and Ba-ree's little nose +was bloody. Ba-ree was lying in triumph beside his victim. Swiftly Gray +Wolf understood and caressed him joyously. When they returned to the +windfall Ba-ree carried in his jaws what was left of the jay.</p> + +<p>From that hour of his first kill hunting became the chief passion of +Ba-ree's life. When he was not sleeping in the sun, or under the +windfall at night, he was seeking life that he could destroy. He +slaughtered an entire family of wood-mice. Moose-birds were at first the +easiest for him to stalk, and he killed three. Then he encountered an +ermine and the fierce little white outlaw of the forests gave him his +first defeat. Defeat cooled his ardor for a few days, but taught him the +great lesson that there were other fanged and flesh-eating animals +besides himself and that nature had so schemed things that fang must not +prey upon fang—<i>for food</i>. Many things had been born in him. +Instinctively he shunned the porcupine without experiencing the torture +of its quills. He came face to face with a fisher-cat one day, a +fortnight after his fight with the ermine. Both were seeking food, and +as there was no food between them to fight over, each went his own way.</p> + +<p>Farther and farther Ba-ree ventured from the windfall, always following +the creek. Sometimes he was gone for hours. At first Gray Wolf was +restless when he was away, but she seldom went with him and after a time +her restlessness left her. Nature was working swiftly. It was Kazan who +was restless now. Moonlight nights had come and the wanderlust was +growing more and more insistent in his veins. And Gray Wolf, too, was +filled with the strange longing to roam at large out into the big world.</p> + +<p>Came then the afternoon when Ba-ree went on his longest hunt. Half a +mile away he killed his first rabbit. He remained beside it until dusk. +The moon rose, big and golden, flooding the forests and plains and +ridges with a light almost like that of day. It was a glorious night. +And Ba-ree found the moon, and left his kill. And the direction in +which he traveled <i>was away from the windfall</i>.</p> + +<p>All that night Gray Wolf watched and waited. And when at last the moon +was sinking into the south and west she settled back on her haunches, +turned her blind face to the sky and sent forth her first howl since the +day Ba-ree was born. Nature had come into her own. Far away Ba-ree +heard, but he did not answer. A new world was his. He had said good-by +to the windfall—and home.</p> + + + + +<a name="19"></a> +<h2>Chapter XIX</h2> + +<h3>The Usurpers</h3> + +<p>It was that glorious season between spring and summer, when the northern +nights were brilliant with moon and stars, that Kazan and Gray Wolf set +up the valley between the two ridges on a long hunt. It was the +beginning of that <i>wanderlust</i> which always comes to the furred and +padded creatures of the wilderness immediately after the young-born of +early spring have left their mothers to find their own way in the big +world. They struck west from their winter home under the windfall in the +swamp. They hunted mostly at night and behind them they left a trail +marked by the partly eaten carcasses of rabbits and partridges. It was +the season of slaughter and not of hunger. Ten miles west of the swamp +they killed a fawn. This, too, they left after a single meal. Their +appetites became satiated with warm flesh and blood. They grew sleek and +fat and each day they basked longer in the warm sunshine. They had few +rivals. The lynxes were in the heavier timber to the south. There were +no wolves. Fisher-cat, marten and mink were numerous along the creek, +but these were neither swift-hunting nor long-fanged. One day they came +upon an old otter. He was a giant of his kind, turning a whitish gray +with the approach of summer. Kazan, grown fat and lazy, watched him +idly. Blind Gray Wolf sniffed at the fishy smell of him in the air. To +them he was no more than a floating stick, a creature out of their +element, along with the fish, and they continued on their way not +knowing that this uncanny creature with the coal-like flappers was soon +to become their ally in one of the strange and deadly feuds of the +wilderness, which are as sanguinary to animal life as the deadliest +feuds of men are to human life.</p> + +<p>The day following their meeting with the otter Gray Wolf and Kazan +continued three miles farther westward, still following the stream. Here +they encountered the interruption to their progress which turned them +over the northward ridge. The obstacle was a huge beaver dam. The dam +was two hundred yards in width and flooded a mile of swamp and timber +above it. Neither Gray Wolf nor Kazan was deeply interested in beavers. +They also moved out of their element, along with the fish and the otter +and swift-winged birds.</p> + +<p>So they turned into the north, not knowing that nature had already +schemed that they four—the dog, wolf, otter and beaver—should soon be +engaged in one of those merciless struggles of the wild which keep +animal life down to the survival of the fittest, and whose tragic +histories are kept secret under the stars and the moon and the winds +that tell no tales.</p> + +<p>For many years no man had come into this valley between the two ridges +to molest the beaver. If a Sarcee trapper had followed down the nameless +creek and had caught the patriarch and chief of the colony, he would at +once have judged him to be very old and his Indian tongue would have +given him a name. He would have called him Broken Tooth, because one of +the four long teeth with which he felled trees and built dams was broken +off. Six years before Broken Tooth had led a few beavers of his own age +down the stream, and they had built their first small dam and their +first lodge. The following April Broken Tooth's mate had four little +baby beavers, and each of the other mothers in the colony increased the +population by two or three or four. At the end of the fourth year this +first generation of children, had they followed the usual law of nature, +would have mated and left the colony to build a dam and lodges of their +own. They mated, but did not emigrate.</p> + +<p>The next year the second generation of children, now four years old, +mated but did not leave, so that in this early summer of the sixth year +the colony was very much like a great city that had been long besieged +by an enemy. It numbered fifteen lodges and over a hundred beavers, not +counting the fourth babies which had been born during March and April. +The dam had been lengthened until it was fully two hundred yards in +length. Water had been made to flood large areas of birch and poplar and +tangled swamps of tender willow and elder. Even with this food was +growing scarce and the lodges were overcrowded. This was because +beavers are almost human in their love for home. Broken Tooth's lodge +was fully nine feet long by seven wide inside, and there were now living +in it children and grandchildren to the number of twenty-seven. For this +reason Broken Tooth was preparing to break the precedent of his tribe. +When Kazan and Gray Wolf sniffed carelessly at the strong scents of the +beaver city, Broken Tooth was marshaling his family, and two of his sons +and their families, for the exodus.</p> + +<p>As yet Broken Tooth was the recognized leader in the colony. No other +beaver had grown to his size and strength. His thick body was fully +three feet long. He weighed at least sixty pounds. His tail was fourteen +inches in length and five in width, and on a still night he could strike +the water a blow that could be heard a quarter of a mile away. His +webbed hindfeet were twice as large as his mate's and he was easily the +swiftest swimmer in the colony.</p> + +<p>Following the afternoon when Gray Wolf and Kazan struck into the north +came the clear still night when Broken Tooth climbed to the top of the +dam, shook himself, and looked down to see that his army was behind +him. The starlit water of the big pond rippled and flashed with the +movement of many bodies. A few of the older beavers clambered up after +Broken Tooth and the old patriarch plunged down into the narrow stream +on the other side of the dam. Now the shining silken bodies of the +emigrants followed him in the starlight. In ones and twos and threes +they climbed over the dam and with them went a dozen children born three +months before. Easily and swiftly they began the journey down-stream, +the youngsters swimming furiously to keep up with their parents. In all +they numbered forty. Broken Tooth swam well in the lead, with his older +workers and battlers behind him. In the rear followed mothers and +children.</p> + +<p>All of that night the journey continued. The otter, their deadliest +enemy—deadlier even than man—hid himself in a thick clump of willows +as they passed. Nature, which sometimes sees beyond the vision of man, +had made him the enemy of these creatures that were passing his +hiding-place in the night. A fish-feeder, he was born to be a conserver +as well as a destroyer of the creatures on which he fed. Perhaps nature +told him that too many beaver dams stopped the run of spawning fish and +that where there were many beavers there were always few fish. Maybe he +reasoned as to why fish-hunting was poor and he went hungry. So, unable +to cope singly with whole tribes of his enemies, he worked to destroy +their dams. How this, in turn, destroyed the beavers will be seen in the +feud in which nature had already schemed that he should play a part with +Kazan and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>A dozen times during this night Broken Tooth halted to investigate the +food supplies along the banks. But in the two or three places where he +found plenty of the bark on which they lived it would have been +difficult to have constructed a dam. His wonderful engineering instincts +rose even above food instincts. And when each time he moved onward, no +beaver questioned his judgment by remaining behind. In the early dawn +they crossed the burn and came to the edge of the swamp domain of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. By right of discovery and possession that swamp belonged +to the dog and the wolf. In every part of it they had left their mark of +ownership. But Broken Tooth was a creature of the water and the scent of +his tribe was not keen. He led on, traveling more slowly when they +entered the timber. Just below the windfall home of Kazan and Gray Wolf +he halted, and clambering ashore balanced himself upright on his webbed +hindfeet and broad four-pound tail. Here he had found ideal conditions. +A dam could be constructed easily across the narrow stream, and the +water could be made to flood a big supply of poplar, birch, willow and +alder. Also the place was sheltered by heavy timber, so that the winters +would be warm. Broken Tooth quickly gave his followers to understand +that this was to be their new home. On both sides of the stream they +swarmed into the near-by timber. The babies began at once to nibble +hungrily at the tender bark of willow and alder. The older ones, every +one of them now a working engineer, investigated excitedly, breakfasting +by nibbling off a mouthful of bark now and then.</p> + +<p>That day the work of home-building began. Broken Tooth himself selected +a big birch that leaned over the stream, and began the work of cutting +through the ten-inch butt with his three long teeth. Though the old +patriarch had lost one tooth, the three that remained had not +deteriorated with age. The outer edge of them was formed of the hardest +enamel; the inner side was of soft ivory. They were like the finest +steel chisels, the enamel never wearing away and the softer ivory +replacing itself year by year as it was consumed. Sitting on his +hindlegs, with his forepaws resting against the tree and with his heavy +tail giving him a firm balance, Broken Tooth began gnawing a narrow ring +entirely around the tree. He worked tirelessly for several hours, and +when at last he stopped to rest another workman took up the task. +Meanwhile a dozen beavers were hard at work cutting timber. Long before +Broken Tooth's tree was ready to fall across the stream, a smaller +poplar crashed into the water. The cutting on the big birch was in the +shape of an hour-glass. In twenty hours it fell straight across the +creek. While the beaver prefers to do most of his work at night he is a +day-laborer as well, and Broken Tooth gave his tribe but little rest +during the days that followed. With almost human intelligence the little +engineers kept at their task. Smaller trees were felled, and these were +cut into four or five foot lengths. One by one these lengths were rolled +to the stream, the beavers pushing them with their heads and forepaws, +and by means of brush and small limbs they were fastened securely +against the birch. When the framework was completed the wonderful cement +construction was begun. In this the beavers were the masters of men. +Dynamite was the only force that could hereafter break up what they were +building now. Under their cup-like chins the beavers brought from the +banks a mixture of mud and fine twigs, carrying from half a pound to a +pound at a load and began filling up the framework with it. Their task +seemed tremendous, and yet Broken Tooth's engineers could carry a ton of +this mud and twig mixture during a day and night. In three days the +water was beginning to back, until it rose about the butts of a dozen or +more trees and was flooding a small area of brush. This made work +easier. From now on materials could be cut in the water and easily +floated. While a part of the beaver colony was taking advantage of the +water, others were felling trees end to end with the birch, laying the +working frame of a dam a hundred feet in width.</p> + +<p>They had nearly accomplished this work when one morning Kazan and Gray +Wolf returned to the swamp.</p> + + + + +<a name="20"></a> +<h2>Chapter XX</h2> + +<h3>A Feud In The Wilderness</h3> + +<p>A soft wind blowing from the south and east brought the scent of the +invaders to Gray Wolf's nose when they were still half a mile away. She +gave the warning to Kazan and he, too, found the strange scent in the +air. It grew stronger as they advanced. When two hundred yards from the +windfall they heard the sudden crash of a falling tree, and stopped. For +a full minute they stood tense and listening. Then the silence was +broken by a squeaking cry, followed by a splash. Gray Wolf's alert ears +fell back and she turned her blind face understandingly toward Kazan. +They trotted ahead slowly, approaching the windfall from behind. Not +until they had reached the top of the knoll on which it was situated did +Kazan begin to see the wonderful change that had taken place during +their absence. Astounded, they stood while he stared. There was no +longer a little creek below them. Where it had been was a pond that +reached almost to the foot of the knoll. It was fully a hundred feet in +width and the backwater had flooded the trees and bush for five or six +times that distance toward the burn. They had come up quietly and Broken +Tooth's dull-scented workers were unaware of their presence. Not fifty +feet away Broken Tooth himself was gnawing at the butt of a tree. An +equal distance to the right of him four or five of the baby beavers were +at play building a miniature dam of mud and tiny twigs. On the opposite +side of the pond was a steep bank six or seven feet high, and here a few +of the older children—two years old, but still not workmen—were having +great fun climbing the bank and using it as a toboggan-slide. It was +their splashing that Kazan and Gray Wolf had heard. In a dozen different +places the older beavers were at work.</p> + +<p>A few weeks before Kazan had looked upon a similar scene when he had +returned into the north from Broken Tooth's old home. It had not +interested him then. But a quick and thrilling change swept through him +now. The beavers had ceased to be mere water animals, uneatable and +with an odor that displeased him. They were invaders—and enemies. His +fangs bared silently. His crest stiffened like the hair of a brush, and +the muscles of his forelegs and shoulders stood out like whipcords. Not +a sound came from him as he rushed down upon Broken Tooth. The old +beaver was oblivious of danger until Kazan was within twenty feet of +him. Naturally slow of movement on land, he stood for an instant +stupefied. Then he swung down from the tree as Kazan leaped upon him. +Over and over they rolled to the edge of the bank, carried on by the +dog's momentum. In another moment the thick heavy body of the beaver had +slipped like oil from under Kazan and Broken Tooth was safe in his +element, two holes bitten clean through his fleshy tail. Baffled in his +effort to get a death-hold on Broken Tooth, Kazan swung like a flash to +the right. The young beavers had not moved. Astonished and frightened at +what they had seen, they stood as if stupefied. Not until they saw Kazan +tearing toward them did they awaken to action. Three of them reached the +water. The fourth and fifth—baby beavers not more than three months +old—were too late. With a single snap of his jaw Kazan broke the hack +of one. The other he pinned down by the throat and shook as a terrier +shakes a rat. When Gray Wolf trotted down to him both of the little +beavers were dead. She sniffed at their soft little bodies and whined. +Perhaps the baby creatures reminded her of runaway Ba-ree, her own baby, +for there was a note of longing in her whine as she nosed them. It was +the mother whine.</p> + +<p>But if Gray Wolf had visions of her own Kazan understood nothing of +them. He had killed two of the creatures that had dared to invade their +home. To the little beavers he had been as merciless as the gray lynx +that had murdered Gray Wolf's first children on the top of the Sun Rock. +Now that he had sunk his teeth into the flesh of his enemies his blood +was filled with a frenzied desire to kill. He raved along the edge of +the pond, snarling at the uneasy water under which Broken Tooth had +disappeared. All of the beavers had taken refuge in the pond, and its +surface was heaving with the passing of many bodies beneath. Kazan came +to the end of the dam. This was new. Instinctively he knew that it was +the work of Broken Tooth and his tribe and for a few moments he tore +fiercely at the matted sticks and limbs. Suddenly there was an upheaval +of water close to the dam, fifty feet out from the bank, and Broken +Tooth's big gray head appeared. For a tense half minute Broken Tooth and +Kazan measured each other at that distance. Then Broken Tooth drew his +wet shining body out of the water to the top of the dam, and squatted +flat, facing Kazan. The old patriarch was alone. Not another beaver had +shown himself.</p> + +<p>The surface of the pond had now become quiet. Vainly Kazan tried to +discover a footing that would allow him to reach the watchful invader. +But between the solid wall of the dam and the bank there was a tangled +framework through which the water rushed with some violence. Three times +Kazan fought to work his way through that tangle, and three times his +efforts ended in sudden plunges into the water. All this time Broken +Tooth did not move. When at last Kazan gave up the attack the old +engineer slipped over the edge of the dam and disappeared under the +water. He had learned that Kazan, like the lynx, could not fight water +and he spread the news among the members of his colony.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf and Kazan returned to the windfall and lay down in the warm +sun. Half an hour later Broken Tooth drew himself out on the opposite +shore of the pond. He was followed by other beavers. Across the water +they resumed their work as if nothing had happened. The tree-cutters +returned to their trees. Half a dozen worked in the water, carrying +loads of cement and twigs. The middle of the pond was their dead-line. +Across this not one of them passed. A dozen times during the hour that +followed one of the beavers swam up to the dead-line, and rested there, +looking at the shining little bodies of the babies that Kazan had +killed. Perhaps it was the mother, and perhaps some finer instinct +unknown to Kazan told this to Gray Wolf. For Gray Wolf went down twice +to sniff at the dead bodies, and each time—without seeing—she went +when the mother beaver had come to the dead-line.</p> + +<p>The first fierce animus had worn itself from Kazan's blood, and he now +watched the beavers closely. He had learned that they were not fighters. +They were many to one and yet they ran from him like a lot of rabbits. +Broken Tooth had not even struck at him, and slowly it grew upon him +that these invading creatures that used both the water and land would +have to be hunted as he stalked the rabbit and the partridge. Early in +the afternoon he slipped off into the bush, followed by Gray Wolf. He +had often begun the stalking of a rabbit by moving <i>away</i> from it and he +employed this wolf trick now with the beavers. Beyond the windfall he +turned and began trotting up the creek, with the wind. For a quarter of +a mile the creek was deeper than it had ever been. One of their old +fording places was completely submerged, and at last Kazan plunged in +and swam across, leaving Gray Wolf to wait for him on the windfall side +of the stream.</p> + +<p>Alone he made his way quickly in the direction of the dam, traveling two +hundred yards back from the creek. Twenty yards below the dam a dense +thicket of alder and willow grew close to the creek and Kazan took +advantage of this. He approached within a leap or two of the dam without +being seen and crouched close to the ground, ready to spring forth when +the opportunity came. Most of the beavers were now working in the water. +The four or five still on shore were close to the water and some +distance up-stream. After a wait of several minutes Kazan was almost on +the point of staking everything on a wild rush upon his enemies when a +movement on the dam attracted his attention. Half-way out two or three +beavers were at work strengthening the central structure with cement. +Swift as a flash Kazan darted from his cover to the shelter behind the +dam. Here the water was very shallow, the main portion of the stream +finding a passage close to the opposite shore. Nowhere did it reach to +his belly as he waded out. He was completely hidden from the beavers, +and the wind was in his favor. The noise of running water drowned what +little sound he made. Soon he heard the beaver workmen over him. The +branches of the fallen birch gave him a footing, and he clambered up.</p> + +<p>A moment later his head and shoulders appeared above the top of the +dam. Scarce an arm's length away Broken Tooth was forcing into place a +three-foot length of poplar as big around as a man's arm. He was so busy +that he did not hear or see Kazan. Another beaver gave the warning as he +plunged into the pond. Broken Tooth looked up, and his eyes met Kazan's +bared fangs. There was no time to turn. He threw himself back, but it +was a moment too late. Kazan was upon him. His long fangs sank deep into +Broken Tooth's neck. But the old beaver had thrown himself enough back +to make Kazan lose his footing. At the same moment his chisel-like teeth +got a firm hold of the loose skin at Kazan's throat. Thus clinched, with +Kazan's long teeth buried almost to the beaver's jugular, they plunged +down into the deep water of the pond.</p> + +<p>Broken Tooth weighed sixty pounds. The instant he struck the water he +was in his element, and holding tenaciously to the grip he had obtained +on Kazan's neck he sank like a chunk of iron. Kazan was pulled +completely under. The water rushed into his mouth, his ears, eyes and +nose. He was blinded, and his senses were a roaring tumult. But instead +of struggling to free himself he held his breath and buried his teeth +deeper. They touched the soft bottom and for a moment floundered in the +mud. Then Kazan loosened his hold. He was fighting for his own life +now—and not for Broken Tooth's. With all of the strength of his +powerful limbs he struggled to break loose—to rise to the surface, to +fresh air, to life. He clamped his jaws shut, knowing that to breathe +was to die. On land he could have freed himself from Broken Tooth's hold +without an effort. But under water the old beaver's grip was more deadly +than would have been the fangs of a lynx ashore. There was a sudden +swirl of water as a second beaver circled close about the struggling +pair. Had he closed in with Broken Tooth, Kazan's struggles would +quickly have ceased.</p> + +<p>But nature had not foreseen the day when Broken Tooth would be fighting +with fang. The old patriarch had no particular reason now for holding +Kazan down. He was not vengeful. He did not thirst for blood or death. +Finding that he was free, and that this strange enemy that had twice +leaped upon him could do him no harm, he loosed his hold. It was not a +moment too soon for Kazan. He was struggling weakly when he rose to the +surface of the water. Three-quarters drowned, he succeeded in raising +his forepaws over a slender branch that projected from the dam. This +gave him time to fill his lungs with air, and to cough forth the water +that had almost ended his existence. For ten minutes he clung to the +branch before he dared attempt the short swim ashore. When he reached +the bank he dragged himself up weakly. All the strength was gone from +his body. His limbs shook. His jaws hung loose. He was beaten—completely +beaten. And a creature without a fang had worsted him. He felt the +abasement of it. Drenched and slinking, he went to the windfall, lay +down in the sun, and waited for Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Days followed in which Kazan's desire to destroy his beaver enemies +became the consuming passion of his life. Each day the dam became more +formidable. Cement work in the water was carried on by the beavers +swiftly and safely. The water in the pond rose higher each twenty-four +hours, and the pond grew steadily wider. The water had now been turned +into the depression that encircled the windfall, and in another week or +two, if the beavers continued their work, Kazan's and Gray Wolf's home +would be nothing more than a small island in the center of a wide area +of submerged swamp.</p> + +<p>Kazan hunted only for food now, and not for pleasure. Ceaselessly he +watched his opportunity to leap upon incautious members of Broken +Tooth's tribe. The third day after the struggle under the water he +killed a big beaver that approached too close to the willow thicket. The +fifth day two of the young beavers wandered into the flooded depression +back of the windfall and Kazan caught them in shallow water and tore +them into pieces. After these successful assaults the beavers began to +work mostly at night. This was to Kazan's advantage, for he was a +night-hunter. On each of two consecutive nights he killed a beaver. +Counting the young, he had killed seven when the otter came.</p> + +<p>Never had Broken Tooth been placed between two deadlier or more +ferocious enemies than the two that now assailed him. On shore Kazan +was his master because of his swiftness, keener scent, and fighting +trickery. In the water the otter was a still greater menace. He was +swifter than the fish that he caught for food. His teeth were like steel +needles. He was so sleek and slippery that it would have been impossible +for them to hold him with their chisel-like teeth could they have caught +him. The otter, like the beaver, possessed no hunger for blood. Yet in +all the Northland he was the greatest destroyer of their kind—an even +greater destroyer than man. He came and passed like a plague, and it was +in the coldest days of winter that greatest destruction came with him. +In those days he did not assault the beavers in their snug houses. He +did what man could do only with dynamite—made an embrasure through +their dam. Swiftly the water would fall, the surface ice would crash +down, and the beaver houses would be left out of water. Then followed +death for the beavers—starvation and cold. With the protecting water +gone from about their houses, the drained pond a chaotic mass of broken +ice, and the temperature forty or fifty degrees below zero, they would +die within a few hours. For the beaver, with his thick coat of fur, can +stand less cold than man. Through all the long winter the water about +his home is as necessary to him as fire to a child.</p> + +<p>But it was summer now and Broken Tooth and his colony had no very great +fear of the otter. It would cost them some labor to repair the damage he +did, but there was plenty of food and it was warm. For two days the +otter frisked about the dam and the deep water of the pond. Kazan took +him for a beaver, and tried vainly to stalk him. The otter regarded +Kazan suspiciously and kept well out of his way. Neither knew that the +other was an ally. Meanwhile the beavers continued their work with +greater caution. The water in the pond had now risen to a point where +the engineers had begun the construction of three lodges. On the third +day the destructive instinct of the otter began its work. He began to +examine the dam, close down to the foundation. It was not long before he +found a weak spot to begin work on, and with his sharp teeth and small +bullet-like head he commenced his drilling operations. Inch by inch he +worked his way through the dam, burrowing and gnawing over and under the +timbers, and always through the cement. The round hole he made was fully +seven inches in diameter. In six hours he had cut it through the +five-foot base of the dam.</p> + +<p>A torrent of water began to rush from the pond as if forced out by a +hydraulic pump. Kazan and Gray Wolf were hiding in the willows on the +south side of the pond when this happened. They heard the roar of the +stream tearing through the embrasure and Kazan saw the otter crawl up to +the top of the dam and shake himself like a huge water-rat. Within +thirty minutes the water in the pond had fallen perceptibly, and the +force of the water pouring through the hole was constantly increasing +the outlet. In another half hour the foundations of the three lodges, +which had been laid in about ten inches of water, stood on mud. Not +until Broken Tooth discovered that the water was receding from the +houses did he take alarm. He was thrown into a panic, and very soon +every beaver in the colony tearing excitedly about the pond. They swam +swiftly from shore to shore, paying no attention to the dead-line now. +Broken Tooth and the older workmen made for the dam, and with a snarling +cry the otter plunged down among them and out like a flash for the creek +above the pond. Swiftly the water continued to fall and as it fell the +excitement of the beavers increased. They forgot Kazan and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Several of the younger members of the colony drew themselves ashore on +the windfall side of the pond, and whining softly Kazan was about to +slip back through the willows when one of the older beavers waddled up +through the deepening mud close on his ambush. In two leaps Kazan was +upon him, with Gray Wolf a leap behind him. The short fierce struggle in +the mud was seen by the other beavers and they crossed swiftly to the +opposite side of the pond. The water had receded to a half of its +greatest width before Broken Tooth and his workmen discovered the breach +in the wall of the dam. The work of repair was begun at once. For this +work sticks and brush of considerable size were necessary, and to reach +this material the beavers were compelled to drag their heavy bodies +through the ten or fifteen yards of soft mud left by the falling water. +Peril of fang no longer kept them back. Instinct told them that they +were fighting for their existence—that if the embrasure were not filled +up and the water kept in the pond they would very soon be completely +exposed to their enemies. It was a day of slaughter for Gray Wolf and +Kazan. They killed two more beavers in the mud close to the willows. +Then they crossed the creek below the dam and cut off three beavers in +the depression behind the windfall. There was no escape for these three. +They were torn into pieces. Farther up the creek Kazan caught a young +beaver and killed it.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon the slaughter ended. Broken Tooth and his +courageous engineers had at last repaired the breach, and the water in +the pond began to rise.</p> + +<p>Half a mile up the creek the big otter was squatted on a log basking in +the last glow of the setting sun. To-morrow he would go and do over +again his work of destruction. That was his method. For him it was play.</p> + +<p>But that strange and unseen arbiter of the forests called O-ee-ki, "the +Spirit," by those who speak the wild tongue, looked down at last with +mercy upon Broken Tooth and his death-stricken tribe. For in that last +glow of sunset Kazan and Gray Wolf slipped stealthily up the creek—to +find the otter basking half asleep on the log.</p> + +<p>The day's work, a full stomach, and the pool of warm sunlight in which +he lay had all combined to make the otter sleepy. He was as motionless +as the log on which he had stretched himself. He was big and gray and +old. For ten years he had lived to prove his cunning superior to that of +man. Vainly traps had been set for him. Wily trappers had built narrow +sluice-ways of rock and tree in small streams for him, but the old otter +had foiled their cunning and escaped the steel jaws waiting at the lower +end of each sluice. The trail he left in soft mud told of his size. A +few trappers had seen him. His soft pelt would long ago have found its +way to London, Paris or Berlin had it not been for his cunning. He was +fit for a princess, a duke or an emperor. For ten years he had lived +and escaped the demands of the rich.</p> + +<p>But this was summer. No trapper would have killed him now, for his pelt +was worthless. Nature and instinct both told him this. At this season he +did not dread man, for there was no man to dread. So he lay asleep on +the log, oblivious to everything but the comfort of sleep and the warmth +of the sun.</p> + +<p>Soft-footed, searching still for signs of the furry enemies who had +invaded their domain, Kazan slipped along the creek. Gray Wolf ran close +at his shoulder. They made no sound, and the wind was in their +favor—bringing scents toward them. It brought the otter smell. To Kazan +and Gray Wolf it was the scent of a water animal, rank and fishy, and +they took it for the beaver. They advanced still more cautiously. Then +Kazan saw the big otter asleep on the log and he gave the warning to +Gray Wolf. She stopped, standing with her head thrown up, while Kazan +made his stealthy advance. The otter stirred uneasily. It was growing +dusk. The golden pool of sunlight had faded away. Back in the darkening +timber an owl greeted night with its first-low call. The otter breathed +deeply. His whiskered muzzle twitched. He was awakening—stirring—when +Kazan leaped upon him. Face to face, in fair fight, the old otter could +have given a good account of himself. But there was no chance now. The +wild itself had for the first time in his life become his deadliest +enemy. It was not man now—but O-ee-ki, "the Spirit," that had laid its +hand upon him. And from the Spirit there was no escape. Kazan's fangs +sank into his soft jugular. Perhaps he died without knowing what it was +that had leaped upon him. For he died—quickly, and Kazan and Gray Wolf +went on their way, hunting still for enemies to slaughter, and not +knowing that in the otter they had killed the one ally who would have +driven the beavers from their swamp home.</p> + +<p>The days that followed grew more and more hopeless for Kazan and Gray +Wolf. With the otter gone Broken Tooth and his tribe held the winning +hand. Each day the water backed a little farther into the depression +surrounding the windfall. By the middle of July only a narrow strip of +land connected the windfall hummock with the dry land of the swamp. In +deep water the beavers now worked unmolested. Inch by inch the water +rose, until there came the day when it began to overflow the connecting +strip. For the last time Kazan and Gray Wolf passed from their windfall +home and traveled up the stream between the two ridges. The creek held a +new meaning for them now and as they traveled they sniffed its odors and +listened to its sounds with an interest they had never known before. It +was an interest mingled a little with fear, for something in the manner +in which the beavers had beaten them reminded Kazan and Gray Wolf of +<i>man</i>. And that night, when in the radiance of the big white moon they +came within scent of the beaver colony that Broken Tooth had left, they +turned quickly northward into the plains. Thus had brave old Broken +Tooth taught them to respect the flesh and blood and handiwork of his +tribe.</p> + + + + +<a name="21"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXI</h2> + +<h3>A Shot On The Sand-Bar</h3> + +<p>July and August of 1911 were months of great fires in the Northland. The +swamp home of Kazan and Gray Wolf, and the green valley between the two +ridges, had escaped the seas of devastating flame; but now, as they set +forth on their wandering adventures again, it was not long before their +padded feet came in contact with the seared and blackened desolation +that had followed so closely after the plague and starvation of the +preceding winter. In his humiliation and defeat, after being driven from +his swamp home by the beavers, Kazan led his blind mate first into the +south. Twenty miles beyond the ridge they struck the fire-killed +forests. Winds from Hudson's Bay had driven the flames in an unbroken +sea into the west, and they had left not a vestige of life or a patch of +green. Blind Gray Wolf could not see the blackened world, but she +<i>sensed</i> it. It recalled to her memory of that other fire, after the +battle on the Sun Rock; and all of her wonderful instincts, sharpened +and developed by her blindness, told her that to the north—and not +south—lay the hunting-grounds they were seeking. The strain of dog that +was in Kazan still pulled him south. It was not because he sought man, +for to man he had now become as deadly an enemy as Gray Wolf herself. It +was simply dog instinct to travel southward; in the face of fire it was +wolf instinct to travel northward. At the end of the third day Gray Wolf +won. They recrossed the little valley between the two ridges, and swung +north and west into the Athabasca country, striking a course that would +ultimately bring them to the headwaters of the McFarlane River.</p> + +<p>Late in the preceding autumn a prospector had come up to Fort Smith, on +the Slave River, with a pickle bottle filled with gold dust and nuggets. +He had made the find on the McFarlane. The first mails had taken the +news to the outside world, and by midwinter the earliest members of a +treasure-hunting horde were rushing into the country by snow-shoe and +dog-sledge. Other finds came thick and fast. The McFarlane was rich in +free gold, and miners by the score staked out their claims along it and +began work. Latecomers swung to new fields farther north and east, and +to Fort Smith came rumors of "finds" richer than those of the Yukon. A +score of men at first—then a hundred, five hundred, a thousand—rushed +into the new country. Most of these were from the prairie countries to +the south, and from the placer beds of the Saskatchewan and the Frazer. +From the far North, traveling by way of the Mackenzie and the Liard, +came a smaller number of seasoned prospectors and adventurers from the +Yukon—men who knew what it meant to starve and freeze and die by +inches.</p> + +<p>One of these late comers was Sandy McTrigger. There were several reasons +why Sandy had left the Yukon. He was "in bad" with the police who +patrolled the country west of Dawson, and he was "broke." In spite of +these facts he was one of the best prospectors that had ever followed +the shores of the Klondike. He had made discoveries running up to a +million or two, and had promptly lost them through gambling and drink. +He had no conscience, and little fear. Brutality was the chief thing +written in his face. His undershot jaw, his wide eyes, low forehead and +grizzly mop of red hair proclaimed him at once as a man not to be +trusted beyond one's own vision or the reach of a bullet. It was +suspected that he had killed a couple of men, and robbed others, but as +yet the police had failed to get anything "on" him. But along with this +bad side of him, Sandy McTrigger possessed a coolness and a courage +which even his worst enemies could not but admire, and also certain +mental depths which his unpleasant features did not proclaim.</p> + +<p>Inside of six months Red Gold City had sprung up on the McFarlane, a +hundred and fifty miles from Fort Smith, and Fort Smith was five hundred +miles from civilization. When Sandy came he looked over the crude +collection of shacks, gambling houses and saloons in the new town, and +made up his mind that the time was not ripe for any of his "inside" +schemes just yet. He gambled a little, and won sufficient to buy himself +grub and half an outfit. A feature of this outfit was an old +muzzle-loading rifle. Sandy, who always carried the latest Savage on +the market, laughed at it. But it was the best his finances would allow +of. He started south—up the McFarlane. Beyond a certain point on the +river prospectors had found no gold. Sandy pushed confidently <i>beyond</i> +this point. Not until he was in new country did he begin his search. +Slowly he worked his way up a small tributary whose headwaters were +fifty or sixty miles to the south and east. Here and there he found +fairly good placer gold. He might have panned six or eight dollars' +worth a day. With this much he was disgusted. Week after week he +continued to work his way up-stream, and the farther he went the poorer +his pans became. At last only occasionally did he find colors. After +such disgusting weeks as these Sandy was dangerous—when in the company +of others. Alone he was harmless.</p> + +<p>One afternoon he ran his canoe ashore on a white strip of sand. This was +at a bend, where the stream had widened, and gave promise of at least a +few colors. He had bent down close to the edge of the water when +something caught his attention on the wet sand. What he saw were the +footprints of animals. Two had come down to drink. They had stood side +by side. And the footprints were fresh—made not more than an hour or +two before. A gleam of interest shot into Sandy's eyes. He looked behind +him, and up and down the stream.</p> + +<p>"Wolves," he grunted. "Wish I could 'a' shot at 'em with that old +minute-gun back there. Gawd—listen to that! And in broad daylight, +too!"</p> + +<p>He jumped to his feet, staring off into the bush.</p> + +<p>A quarter of a mile away Gray Wolf had caught the dreaded scent of man +in the wind, and was giving voice to her warning. It was a long wailing +howl, and not until its last echoes had died away did Sandy McTrigger +move. Then he returned to the canoe, took out his old gun, put a fresh +cap on the nipple and disappeared quickly over the edge of the bank.</p> + +<p>For a week Kazan and Gray Wolf had been wandering about the headwaters +of the McFarlane and this was the first time since the preceding winter +that Gray Wolf had caught the scent of man in the air. When the wind +brought the danger-signal to her she was alone. Two or three minutes +before the scent came to her Kazan had left her side in swift pursuit of +a snow-shoe rabbit, and she lay flat on her belly under a bush, waiting +for him. In these moments when she was alone Gray Wolf was constantly +sniffing the air. Blindness had developed her scent and hearing until +they were next to infallible. First she had heard the rattle of Sandy +McTrigger's paddle against the side of his canoe a quarter of a mile +away. Scent had followed swiftly. Five minutes after her warning howl +Kazan stood at her side, his head flung up, his jaws open and panting. +Sandy had hunted Arctic foxes, and he was using the Eskimo tactics now, +swinging in a half-circle until he should come up in the face of the +wind. Kazan caught a single whiff of the man-tainted air and his spine +grew stiff. But blind Gray Wolf was keener than the little red-eyed fox +of the North. Her pointed nose slowly followed Sandy's progress. She +heard a dry stick crack under his feet three hundred yards away. She +caught the metallic click of his gun-barrel as it struck a birch +sapling. The moment she lost Sandy in the wind she whined and rubbed +herself against Kazan and trotted a few steps to the southwest.</p> + +<p>At times such as this Kazan seldom refused to take guidance from her. +They trotted away side by side and by the time Sandy was creeping up +snake-like with the wind in his face, Kazan was peering from the fringe +of river brush down upon the canoe on the white strip of sand. When +Sandy returned, after an hour of futile stalking, two fresh tracks led +straight down to the canoe. He looked at them in amazement and then a +sinister grin wrinkled his ugly face. He chuckled as he went to his kit +and dug out a small rubber bag. From this he drew a tightly corked +bottle, filled with gelatine capsules. In each little capsule were five +grains of strychnine. There were dark hints that once upon a time Sandy +McTrigger had tried one of these capsules by dropping it in a cup of +coffee and giving it to a man, but the police had never proved it. He +was expert in the use of poison. Probably he had killed a thousand foxes +in his time, and he chuckled again as he counted out a dozen of the +capsules and thought how easy it would be to get this inquisitive pair +of wolves. Two or three days before he had killed a caribou, and each of +the capsules he now rolled up in a little ball of deer fat, doing the +work with short sticks in place of his fingers, so that there would be +no man-smell clinging to the death-baits. Before sundown Sandy set out +at right-angles over the plain, planting the baits. Most of them he hung +to low bushes. Others he dropped in worn rabbit and caribou trails. Then +he returned to the creek and cooked his supper.</p> + +<p>Then next morning he was up early, and off to the poison baits. The +first bait was untouched. The second was as he had planted it. The third +was gone. A thrill shot through Sandy as he looked about him. Somewhere +within a radius of two or three hundred yards he would find his game. +Then his glance fell to the ground under the bush where he had hung the +poison capsule and an oath broke from his lips. The bait had not been +eaten. The caribou fat lay scattered under the bush and still imbedded +in the largest portion of it was the little white capsule—unbroken. It +was Sandy's first experience with a wild creature whose instincts were +sharpened by blindness, and he was puzzled. He had never known this to +happen before. If a fox or a wolf could be lured to the point of +touching a bait, it followed that the bait was eaten. Sandy went on to +the fourth and the fifth baits. They were untouched. The sixth was torn +to pieces, like the third. In this instance the capsule was broken and +the white powder scattered. Two more poison baits Sandy found pulled +down in this manner. He knew that Kazan and Gray Wolf had done the work, +for he found the marks of their feet in a dozen different places. The +accumulated bad humor of weeks of futile labor found vent in his +disappointment and anger. At last he had found something tangible to +curse. The failure of his poison baits he accepted as a sort of climax +to his general bad luck. Everything was against him, he believed, and he +made up his mind to return to Red Gold City. Early in the afternoon he +launched his canoe and drifted down-stream with the current. He was +content to let the current do all of the work to-day, and he used his +paddle just enough to keep his slender craft head on. He leaned back +comfortably and smoked his pipe, with the old rifle between his knees. +The wind was in his face and he kept a sharp watch for game.</p> + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when Kazan and Gray Wolf came out on a +sand-bar five or six miles down-stream. Kazan was lapping up the cool +water when Sandy drifted quietly around a bend a hundred yards above +them. If the wind had been right, or if Sandy had been using his paddle, +Gray Wolf would have detected danger. It was the metallic click-click of +the old-fashioned lock of Sandy's rifle that awakened her to a sense of +peril. Instantly she was thrilled by the nearness of it. Kazan heard the +sound and stopped drinking to face it. In that moment Sandy pressed the +trigger. A belch of smoke, a roar of gunpowder, and Kazan felt a red-hot +stream of fire pass with the swiftness of a lightning-flash through his +brain. He stumbled back, his legs gave way under him, and he crumpled +down in a limp heap. Gray Wolf darted like a streak off into the bush. +Blind, she had not seen Kazan wilt down upon the white sand. Not until +she was a quarter of a mile away from the terrifying thunder of the +white man's rifle did she stop and wait for him.</p> + +<p>Sandy McTrigger grounded his canoe on the sand-bar with an exultant +yell.</p> + +<p>"Got you, you old devil, didn't I?" he cried. "I'd 'a' got the other, +too, if I'd 'a' had something besides this damned old relic!"</p> + +<p>He turned Kazan's head over with the butt of his gun, and the leer of +satisfaction in his face gave place to a sudden look of amazement. For +the first time he saw the collar about Kazan's neck.</p> + +<p>"My Gawd, it ain't a wolf," he gasped. "It's a dog, Sandy McTrigger—<i>a +dog!"</i></p> + + + + +<a name="22"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXII</h2> + +<h3>Sandy'S Method</h3> + +<p>McTrigger dropped on his knees in the sand. The look of exultation was +gone from his face. He twisted the collar about the dog's limp neck +until he came to the worn plate, on which he could make out the faintly +engraved letters <i>K-a-z-a-n</i>. He spelled the letters out one by one, and +the look in his face was of one who still disbelieved what he had seen +and heard.</p> + +<p>"A dog!" he exclaimed again. "A dog, Sandy McTrigger an' a—a beauty!"</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet and looked down on his victim. A pool of blood lay +in the white sand at the end of Kazan's nose. After a moment Sandy bent +over to see where his bullet had struck. His inspection filled him with +a new and greater interest. The heavy ball from the muzzle-loader had +struck Kazan fairly on top of the head. It was a glancing blow that had +not even broken the skull, and like a flash Sandy understood the +quivering and twitching of Kazan's shoulders and legs. He had thought +that they were the last muscular throes of death. But Kazan was not +dying. He was only stunned, and would be on his feet again in a few +minutes. Sandy was a connoisseur of dogs—of dogs that had worn sledge +traces. He had lived among them two-thirds of his life. He could tell +their age, their value, and a part of their history at a glance. In the +snow he could tell the trail of a Mackenzie hound from that of a +Malemute, and the track of an Eskimo dog from that of a Yukon husky. He +looked at Kazan's feet. They were wolf feet, and he chuckled. Kazan was +part wild. He was big and powerful, and Sandy thought of the coming +winter, and of the high prices that dogs would bring at Red Gold City. +He went to the canoe and returned with a roll of stout moose-hide +babiche. Then he sat down cross-legged in front of Kazan and began +making a muzzle. He did this by plaiting babiche thongs in the same +manner that one does in making the web of a snow-shoe. In ten minutes he +had the muzzle over Kazan's nose and fastened securely about his neck. +To the dog's collar he then fastened a ten-foot rope of babiche. After +that he sat back and waited for Kazan to come to life.</p> + +<p>When Kazan first lifted his head he could not see. There was a red film +before his eyes. But this passed away swiftly and he saw the man. His +first instinct was to rise to his feet. Three times he fell back before +he could stand up. Sandy was squatted six feet from him, holding the end +of the babiche, and grinning. Kazan's fangs gleamed back. He growled, +and the crest along his spine rose menacingly. Sandy jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Guess I know what you're figgering on," he said. "I've had <i>your</i> kind +before. The dam' wolves have turned you bad, an' you'll need a whole lot +of club before you're right again. Now, look here."</p> + +<p>Sandy had taken the precaution of bringing a thick club along with the +babiche. He picked it up from where he had dropped it in the sand. +Kazan's strength had fairly returned to him now. He was no longer dizzy. +The mist had cleared away from his eyes. Before him he saw once more his +old enemy, man—man and the club. All of the wild ferocity of his +nature was roused in an instant. Without reasoning he knew that Gray +Wolf was gone, and that this man was accountable for her going. He knew +that this man had also brought him his own hurt, and what he ascribed to +the man he also attributed to the club. In his newer undertaking of +things, born of freedom and Gray Wolf, Man and Club were one and +inseparable. With a snarl he leaped at Sandy. The man was not expecting +a direct assault, and before he could raise his club or spring aside +Kazan had landed full on his chest. The muzzle about Kazan's jaws saved +him. Fangs that would have torn his throat open snapped harmlessly. +Under the weight of the dog's body he fell back, as if struck down by a +catapult.</p> + +<p>As quick as a cat he was on his feet again, with the end of the babiche +twisted several times about his hand. Kazan leaped again, and this time +he was met by a furious swing of the club. It smashed against his +shoulder, and sent him down in the sand. Before he could recover Sandy +was upon him, with all the fury of a man gone mad. He shortened the +babiche by twisting it again and again about his hand, and the club rose +and fell with the skill and strength of one long accustomed to its use. +The first blows served only to add to Kazan's hatred of man, and the +ferocity and fearlessness of his attacks. Again and again he leaped in, +and each time the club fell upon him with a force that threatened to +break his bones. There was a tense hard look about Sandy's cruel mouth. +He had never known a dog like this before, and he was a bit nervous, +even with Kazan muzzled. Three times Kazan's fangs would have sunk deep +in his flesh had it not been for the babiche. And if the thongs about +his jaws should slip, or break—.</p> + +<p>Sandy followed up the thought with a smashing blow that landed on +Kazan's head, and once more the old battler fell limp upon the sand. +McTrigger's breath was coming in quick gasps. He was almost winded. Not +until the club slipped from his hand did he realize how desperate the +fight had been. Before Kazan recovered from the blow that had stunned +him Sandy examined the muzzle and strengthened it by adding another +babiche thong. Then he dragged Kazan to a log that high water had +thrown up on the shore a few yards away and made the end of the babiche +rope fast to a dead snag. After that he pulled his canoe higher up on +the sand, and began to prepare camp for the night.</p> + +<p>For some minutes after Kazan's stunned senses had become normal he lay +motionless, watching Sandy McTrigger. Every bone in his body gave him +pain. His jaws were sore and bleeding. His upper lip was smashed where +the club had fallen. One eye was almost closed. Several times Sandy came +near, much pleased at what he regarded as the good results of the +beating. Each time he brought the club. The third time he prodded Kazan +with it, and the dog snarled and snapped savagely at the end of it. That +was what Sandy wanted—it was an old trick of the dog-slaver. Instantly +he was using the club again, until with a whining cry Kazan slunk under +the protection of the snag to which he was fastened. He could scarcely +drag himself. His right forepaw was smashed. His hindquarters sank under +him. For a time after this second beating he could not have escaped had +he been free.</p> + +<p>Sandy was in unusually good humor.</p> + +<p>"I'll take the devil out of you all right," he told Kazan for the +twentieth time. "There's nothin' like beatin's to make dogs an' wimmin +live up to the mark. A month from now you'll be worth two hundred +dollars or I'll skin you alive!"</p> + +<p>Three or four times before dusk Sandy worked to rouse Kazan's animosity. +But there was no longer any desire left in Kazan to fight. His two +terrific beatings, and the crushing blow of the bullet against his +skull, had made him sick. He lay with his head between his forepaws, his +eyes closed, and did not see McTrigger. He paid no attention to the meat +that was thrown under his nose. He did not know when the last of the sun +sank behind the western forests, or when the darkness came. But at last +something roused him from his stupor. To his dazed and sickened brain it +came like a call from out of the far past, and he raised his head and +listened. Out on the sand McTrigger had built a fire, and the man stood +in the red glow of it now, facing the dark shadows beyond the shoreline. +He, too, was listening. What had roused Kazan came again now—the lost +mourning cry of Gray Wolf far out on the plain.</p> + +<p>With a whine Kazan was on his feet, tugging at the babiche. Sandy +snatched up his club, and leaped toward him.</p> + +<p>"Down, you brute!" he commanded.</p> + +<p>In the firelight the club rose and fell with ferocious quickness. When +McTrigger returned to the fire he was breathing hard again. He tossed +his club beside the blankets he had spread out for a bed. It was a +different looking club now. It was covered with blood and hair.</p> + +<p>"Guess that'll take the spirit out of him," he chuckled. "It'll do +that—or kill 'im!"</p> + +<p>Several times that night Kazan heard Gray Wolf's call. He whined softly +in response, fearing the club. He watched the fire until the last embers +of it died out, and then cautiously dragged himself from under the snag. +Two or three times he tried to stand on his feet, but fell back each +time. His legs were not broken, but the pain of standing on them was +excruciating. He was hot and feverish. All that night he had craved a +drink of water. When Sandy crawled out from between his blankets in the +early dawn he gave him both meat and water. Kazan drank the water, but +would not touch the meat. Sandy regarded the change in him with +satisfaction. By the time the sun was up he had finished his breakfast +and was ready to leave. He approached Kazan fearlessly now, without the +club. Untying the babiche he dragged the dog to the canoe. Kazan slunk +in the sand while his captor fastened the end of the hide rope to the +stern of the canoe. Sandy grinned. What was about to happen would be fun +for him. In the Yukon he had learned how to take the spirit out of dogs.</p> + +<p>He pushed off, bow foremost. Bracing himself with his paddle he then +began to pull Kazan toward the water. In a few moments Kazan stood with +his forefeet planted in the damp sand at the edge of the stream. For a +brief interval Sandy allowed the babiche to fall slack. Then with a +sudden powerful pull he jerked Kazan out into the water. Instantly he +sent the canoe into midstream, swung it quickly down with the current, +and began to paddle enough to keep the babiche taut about his victim's +neck. In spite of his sickness and injuries Kazan was now compelled to +swim to keep his head above water. In the wash of the canoe, and with +Sandy's strokes growing steadily stronger, his position became each +moment one of increasing torture. At times his shaggy head was pulled +completely under water. At others Sandy would wait until he had drifted +alongside, and then thrust him under with the end of his paddle. He grew +weaker. At the end of a half-mile he was drowning. Not until then did +Sandy pull him alongside and drag him into the canoe. The dog fell limp +and gasping in the bottom. Brutal though Sandy's methods had been, they +had worked his purpose. In Kazan there was no longer a desire to fight. +He no longer struggled for freedom. He knew that this man was his +master, and for the time his spirit was gone. All he desired now was to +be allowed to lie in the bottom of the canoe, out of reach of the club, +and safe from the water. The club lay between him and the man. The end +of it was within a foot or two of his nose, and what he smelled was his +own blood.</p> + +<p>For five days and five nights the journey down-stream continued, and +McTrigger's process of civilizing Kazan was continued in three more +beatings with the club, and another resort to the water torture. On the +morning of the sixth day they reached Red Gold City, and McTrigger put +up his tent close to the river. Somewhere he obtained a chain for Kazan, +and after fastening the dog securely back of the tent he cut off the +babiche muzzle.</p> + +<p>"You can't put on meat in a muzzle," he told his prisoner. "An' I want +you to git strong—an' fierce as hell. I've got an idee. It's an idee +you can lick your weight in wildcats. We'll pull off a stunt pretty soon +that'll fill our pockets with dust. I've done it afore, and we can do it +<i>here</i>. Wolf an' dog—s'elp me Gawd but it'll be a drawin' card!"</p> + +<p>Twice a day after this he brought fresh raw meat to Kazan. Quickly +Kazan's spirit and courage returned to him. The soreness left his limbs. +His battered jaws healed. And after the fourth day each time that Sandy +came with meat he greeted him with the challenge of his snarling fangs. +McTrigger did not beat him now. He gave him no fish, no tallow and +meal—nothing but raw meat. He traveled five miles up the river to bring +in the fresh entrail of a caribou that had been killed. One day Sandy +brought another man with him and when the stranger came a step too near +Kazan made a sudden swift lunge at him. The man jumped back with a +startled oath.</p> + +<p>"He'll do," he growled. "He's lighter by ten or fifteen pounds than the +Dane, but he's got the teeth, an' the quickness, an' he'll give a good +show before he goes under."</p> + +<p>"I'll make you a bet of twenty-five per cent. of my share that he don't +go under," offered Sandy.</p> + +<p>"Done!" said the other. "How long before he'll be ready?"</p> + +<p>Sandy thought a moment.</p> + +<p>"Another week," he said. "He won't have his weight before then. A week +from to-day, we'll say. Next Tuesday night. Does that suit you, Harker?"</p> + +<p>Harker nodded.</p> + +<p>"Next Tuesday night," he agreed. Then he added, "I'll make it a <i>half</i> +of my share that the Dane kills your wolf-dog."</p> + +<p>Sandy took a long look at Kazan.</p> + +<p>"I'll just take you on that," he said. Then, as he shook Harker's hand, +"I don't believe there's a dog between here and the Yukon that can kill +the wolf!"</p> + + + + +<a name="23"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXIII</h2> + +<h3>Professor McGill</h3> + +<p>Red Gold City was ripe for a night of relaxation. There had been some +gambling, a few fights and enough liquor to create excitement now and +then, but the presence of the mounted police had served to keep things +unusually tame compared with events a few hundred miles farther north, +in the Dawson country. The entertainment proposed by Sandy McTrigger and +Jan Harker met with excited favor. The news spread for twenty miles +about Red Gold City and there had never been greater excitement in the +town than on the afternoon and night of the big fight. This was largely +because Kazan and the huge Dane had been placed on exhibition, each dog +in a specially made cage of his own, and a fever of betting began. Three +hundred men, each of whom was paying five dollars to see the battle, +viewed the gladiators through the bars of their cages. Harker's dog was +a combination of Great Dane and mastiff, born in the North, and bred to +the traces. Betting favored him by the odds of two to one. Occasionally +it ran three to one. At these odds there was plenty of Kazan money. +Those who were risking their money on him were the older wilderness +men—men who had spent their lives among dogs, and who knew what the red +glint in Kazan's eyes meant. An old Kootenay miner spoke low in +another's ear:</p> + +<p>"I'd bet on 'im even. I'd give odds if I had to. He'll fight all around +the Dane. The Dane won't have no method."</p> + +<p>"But he's got the weight," said the other dubiously. "Look at his jaws, +an' his shoulders—"</p> + +<p>"An' his big feet, an' his soft throat, an' the clumsy thickness of his +belly," interrupted the Kootenay man. "For Gawd's sake, man, take my +word for it, an' don't put your money on the Dane!"</p> + +<p>Others thrust themselves between them. At first Kazan had snarled at all +these faces about him. But now he lay back against the boarded side of +the cage and eyed them sullenly from between his forepaws.</p> + +<p>The fight was to be pulled off in Barker's place, a combination of +saloon and cafe. The benches and tables had been cleared out and in the +center of the one big room a cage ten feet square rested on a platform +three and a half feet from the floor. Seats for the three hundred +spectators were drawn closely around this. Suspended just above the open +top of the cage were two big oil lamps with glass reflectors.</p> + +<p>It was eight o'clock when Harker, McTrigger and two other men bore Kazan +to the arena by means of the wooden bars that projected from the bottom +of his cage. The big Dane was already in the fighting cage. He stood +blinking his eyes in the brilliant light of the reflecting lamps. He +pricked up his ears when he saw Kazan. Kazan did not show his fangs. +Neither revealed the expected animosity. It was the first they had seen +of each other, and a murmur of disappointment swept the ranks of the +three hundred men. The Dane remained as motionless as a rock when Kazan +was prodded from his own cage into the fighting cage. He did not leap or +snarl. He regarded Kazan with a dubious questioning poise to his +splendid head, and then looked again to the expectant and excited faces +of the waiting men. For a few moments Kazan stood stiff-legged, facing +the Dane. Then his shoulders dropped, and he, too, coolly faced the +crowd that had expected a fight to the death. A laugh of derision swept +through the closely seated rows. Catcalls, jeering taunts flung at +McTrigger and Harker, and angry voices demanding their money back +mingled with a tumult of growing discontent. Sandy's face was red with +mortification and rage. The blue veins in Barker's forehead had swollen +twice their normal size. He shook his fist in the face of the crowd, and +shouted:</p> + +<p>"Wait! Give 'em a chance, you dam' fools!"</p> + +<p>At his words every voice was stilled. Kazan had turned. He was facing +the huge Dane. And the Dane had turned his eyes to Kazan. Cautiously, +prepared for a lunge or a sidestep, Kazan advanced a little. The Dane's +shoulders bristled. He, too, advanced upon Kazan. Four feet apart they +stood rigid. One could have heard a whisper in the room now. Sandy and +Harker, standing close to the cage, scarcely breathed. Splendid in every +limb and muscle, warriors of a hundred fights, and fearless to the point +of death, the two half-wolf victims of man stood facing each other. None +could see the questioning look in their brute eyes. None knew that in +this thrilling moment the unseen hand of the wonderful Spirit God of the +wilderness hovered between them, and that one of its miracles was +descending upon them. It was <i>understanding</i>. Meeting in the +open—rivals in the traces—they would have been rolling in the throes +of terrific battle. But <i>here</i> came that mute appeal of brotherhood. In +the final moment, when only a step separated them, and when men expected +to see the first mad lunge, the splendid Dane slowly raised his head and +looked over Kazan's back through the glare of the lights. Harker +trembled, and under his breath he cursed. The Dane's throat was open to +Kazan. But between the beasts had passed the voiceless pledge of peace. +Kazan did not leap. He turned. And shoulder to shoulder—splendid in +their contempt of man—they stood and looked through the bars of their +prison into the one of human faces.</p> + +<p>A roar burst from the crowd—a roar of anger, of demand, of threat. In +his rage Harker drew a revolver and leveled it at the Dane. Above the +tumult of the crowd a single voice stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Hold!" it demanded. "Hold—in the name of the law!"</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence. Every face turned in the direction of +the voice. Two men stood on chairs behind the last row. One was Sergeant +Brokaw, of the Royal Northwest Mounted. It was he who had spoken. He was +holding up a hand, commanding silence and attention. On the chair beside +him stood another man. He was thin, with drooping shoulders, and a pale +smooth face—a little man, whose physique and hollow cheeks told nothing +of the years he had spent close up along the raw edge of the Arctic. It +was he who spoke now, while the sergeant held up his hand. His voice was +low and quiet:</p> + +<p>"I'll give the owners five hundred dollars for those dogs," he said.</p> + +<p>Every man in the room heard the offer. Harker looked at Sandy. For an +instant their heads were close together.</p> + +<p>"They won't fight, and they'll make good team-mates," the little man +went on. "I'll give the owners five hundred dollars."</p> + +<p>Harker raised a hand.</p> + +<p>"Make it six," he said. "Make it six and they're yours."</p> + +<p>The little man hesitated. Then he nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you six hundred," he agreed.</p> + +<p>Murmurs of discontent rose throughout the crowd. Harker climbed to the +edge of the platform.</p> + +<p>"We ain't to blame because they wouldn't fight," he shouted, "but if +there's any of you small enough to want your money back you can git it +as you go out. The dogs laid down on us, that's all. We ain't to blame."</p> + +<p>The little man was edging his way between the chairs, accompanied by the +sergeant of police. With his pale face close to the sapling bars of the +cage he looked at Kazan and the big Dane.</p> + +<p>"I guess we'll be good friends," he said, and he spoke so low that only +the dogs heard his voice. "It's a big price, but we'll charge it to the +Smithsonian, lads. I'm going to need a couple of four-footed friends of +your moral caliber."</p> + +<p>And no one knew why Kazan and the Dane drew nearer to the little +scientist's side of the cage as he pulled out a big roll of bills and +counted out six hundred dollars for Harker and Sandy McTrigger.</p> + + + + +<a name="24"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXIV</h2> + +<h3>Alone In Darkness</h3> + +<p>Never had the terror and loneliness of blindness fallen upon Gray Wolf +as in the days that followed the shooting of Kazan and his capture by +Sandy McTrigger. For hours after the shot she crouched in the bush back +from the river, waiting for him to come to her. She had faith that he +would come, as he had come a thousand times before, and she lay close on +her belly, sniffing the air, and whining when it brought no scent of her +mate. Day and night were alike an endless chaos of darkness to her now, +but she knew when the sun went down. She sensed the first deepening +shadows of evening, and she knew that the stars were out, and that the +river lay in moonlight. It was a night to roam, and after a time she +moved restlessly about in a small circle on the plain, and sent out her +first inquiring call for Kazan. Up from the river came the pungent odor +of smoke, and instinctively she knew that it was this smoke, and the +nearness of man, that was keeping Kazan from her. But she went no nearer +than that first circle made by her padded feet. Blindness had taught her +to wait. Since the day of the battle on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had +destroyed her eyes, Kazan had never failed her. Three times she called +for him in the early night. Then she made herself a nest under a +<i>banskian</i> shrub, and waited until dawn.</p> + +<p>Just how she knew when night blotted out the last glow of the sun, so +without seeing she knew when day came. Not until she felt the warmth of +the sun on her back did her anxiety overcome her caution. Slowly she +moved toward the river, sniffing the air and whining. There was no +longer the smell of smoke in the air, and she could not catch the scent +of man. She followed her own trail back to the sand-bar, and in the +fringe of thick bush overhanging the white shore of the stream she +stopped and listened. After a little she scrambled down and went +straight to the spot where she and Kazan were drinking when the shot +came. And there her nose struck the sand still wet and thick with +Kazan's blood. She knew it was the blood of her mate, for the scent of +him was all about her in the sand, mingled with the man-smell of Sandy +McTrigger. She sniffed the trail of his body to the edge of the stream, +where Sandy had dragged him to the canoe. She found the fallen tree to +which he had been tied. And then she came upon one of the two clubs that +Sandy had used to beat wounded Kazan into submissiveness. It was covered +with blood and hair, and all at once Gray Wolf lay back on her haunches +and turned her blind face to the sky, and there rose from her throat a +cry for Kazan that drifted for miles on the wings of the south wind. +Never had Gray Wolf given quite that cry before. It was not the "call" +that comes with the moonlit nights, and neither was it the hunt-cry, nor +the she-wolf's yearning for matehood. It carried with it the lament of +death. And after that one cry Gray Wolf slunk back to the fringe of bush +over the river, and lay with her face turned to the stream.</p> + +<p>A strange terror fell upon her. She had grown accustomed to darkness, +but never before had she been <i>alone</i> in that darkness. Always there +had been the guardianship of Kazan's presence. She heard the clucking +sound of a spruce hen in the bush a few yards away, and now that sound +came to her as if from out of another world. A ground-mouse rustled +through the grass close to her forepaws, and she snapped at it, and +closed her teeth on a rock. The muscles of her shoulders twitched +tremulously and she shivered as if stricken by intense cold. She was +terrified by the darkness that shut out the world from her, and she +pawed at her closed eyes, as if she might open them to light. Early in +the afternoon she wandered back on the plain. It was different. It +frightened her, and soon she returned to the beach, and snuggled down +under the tree where Kazan had lain. She was not so frightened here. The +smell of Kazan was strong about her. For an hour she lay motionless, +with her head resting on the club clotted with his hair and blood. Night +found her still there. And when the moon and the stars came out she +crawled back into the pit in the white sand that Kazan's body had made +under the tree.</p> + +<p>With dawn she went down to the edge of the stream to drink. She could +not see that the day was almost as dark as night, and that the +gray-black sky was a chaos of slumbering storm. But she could smell the +presence of it in the thick air, and could <i>feel</i> the forked flashes of +lightning that rolled up with the dense pall from the south and west. +The distant rumbling of thunder grew louder, and she huddled herself +again under the tree. For hours the storm crashed over her, and the rain +fell in a deluge. When it had finished she slunk out from her shelter +like a thing beaten. Vainly she sought for one last scent of Kazan. The +club was washed clean. Again the sand was white where Kazan's blood had +reddened it. Even under the tree there was no sign of him left.</p> + +<p>Until now only the terror of being alone in the pit of darkness that +enveloped her had oppressed Gray Wolf. With afternoon came hunger. It +was this hunger that drew her from the sand-bar, and she wandered back +into the plain. A dozen times she scented game, and each time it evaded +her. Even a ground-mouse that she cornered under a root, and dug out +with her paws, escaped her fangs.</p> + +<p>Thirty-six hours before this Kazan and Gray Wolf had left a half of +their last kill a mile of two farther back on the plain. The kill was +one of the big barren rabbits, and Gray Wolf turned in its direction. +She did not require sight to find it. In her was developed to its finest +point that sixth sense of the animal kingdom, the sense of orientation, +and as straight as a pigeon might have winged its flight she cut through +the bush to the spot where they had cached the rabbit. A white fox had +been there ahead of her, and she found only scattered bits of hair and +fur. What the fox had left the moose-birds and bush-jays had carried +away. Hungrily Gray Wolf turned back to the river.</p> + +<p>That night she slept again where Kazan had lain, and three times she +called for him without answer. A heavy dew fell, and it drenched the +last vestige of her mate's scent out of the sand. But still through the +day that followed, and the day that followed that, blind Gray Wolf clung +to the narrow rim of white sand. On the fourth day her hunger reached a +point where she gnawed the bark from willow bushes. It was on this day +that she made a discovery. She was drinking, when her sensitive nose +touched something in the water's edge that was smooth, and bore a faint +odor of flesh. It was one of the big northern river clams. She pawed it +ashore, sniffing at the hard shell. Then she crunched it between her +teeth. She had never tasted sweeter meat than that which she found +inside, and she began hunting for other clams. She found many of them, +and ate until she was no longer hungry. For three days more she remained +on the bar.</p> + +<p>And then, one night, the call came to her. It set her quivering with a +strange new excitement—something that may have been a new hope, and in +the moonlight she trotted nervously up and down the shining strip of +sand, facing now the north, and now the south, and then the east and the +west—her head flung up, listening, as if in the soft wind of the night +she was trying to locate the whispering lure of a wonderful voice. And +whatever it was that came to her came from out of the south and east. +Off there—across the barren, far beyond the outer edge of the northern +timber-line—was <i>home</i>. And off there, in her brute way, she reasoned +that she must find Kazan. The call did not come from their old windfall +home in the swamp. It came from beyond that, and in a flashing vision +there rose through her blindness a picture of the towering Sun Rock, of +the winding trail that led to it, and the cabin on the plain. It was +there that blindness had come to her. It was there that day had ended, +and eternal night had begun. And it was there that she had mothered her +first-born. Nature had registered these things so that they could never +be wiped out of her memory, and when the call came it was from the +sunlit world where she had last known light and life and had last seen +the moon and the stars in the blue night of the skies.</p> + +<p>And to that call she responded, leaving the river and its food behind +her—straight out into the face of darkness and starvation, no longer +fearing death or the emptiness of the world she could not see; for ahead +of her, two hundred miles away, she could see the Sun Rock, the winding +trail, the nest of her first-born between the two big rocks—<i>and +Kazan</i>!</p> + + + + +<a name="25"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXV</h2> + +<h3>The Last Of McTrigger</h3> + +<p>Sixty miles farther north Kazan lay at the end of his fine steel chain, +watching little Professor McGill mixing a pail of tallow and bran. A +dozen yards from him lay the big Dane, his huge jaws drooling in +anticipation of the unusual feast which McGill was preparing. He showed +signs of pleasure when McGill approached him with a quart of the +mixture, and he gulped it between his huge jaws. The little man with the +cold blue eyes and the gray-blond hair stroked his back without fear. +His attitude was different when he turned to Kazan. His movements were +filled with caution, and yet his eyes and his lips were smiling, and he +gave the wolf-dog no evidence of his fear, if it could be called fear.</p> + +<p>The little professor, who was up in the north country for the +Smithsonian Institution, had spent a third of his life among dogs. He +loved them, and understood them. He had written a number of magazine +articles on dog intellect that had attracted wide attention among +naturalists. It was largely because he loved dogs, and understood them +more than most men, that he had bought Kazan and the big Dane on the +night when Sandy McTrigger and his partner had tried to get them to +fight to the death in the Red Gold City saloon. The refusal of the two +splendid beasts to kill each other for the pleasure of the three hundred +men who had assembled to witness the fight delighted him. He had already +planned a paper on the incident. Sandy had told him the story of Kazan's +capture, and of his wild mate, Gray Wolf, and the professor had asked +him a thousand questions. But each day Kazan puzzled him more. No amount +of kindness on his part could bring a responsive gleam in Kazan's eyes. +Not once did Kazan signify a willingness to become friends. And yet he +did not snarl at McGill, or snap at his hands when they came within +reach. Quite frequently Sandy McTrigger came over to the little cabin +where McGill was staying, and three times Kazan leaped at the end of +his chain to get at him, and his white fangs gleamed as long as Sandy +was in sight. Alone with McGill he became quiet. Something told him that +McGill had come as a friend that night when he and the big Dane stood +shoulder to shoulder in the cage that had been built for a slaughter +pen. Away down in his brute heart he held McGill apart from other men. +He had no desire to harm him. He tolerated him, but showed none of the +growing affection of the huge Dane. It was this fact that puzzled +McGill. He had never before known a dog that he could not make love him.</p> + +<p>To-day he placed the tallow and bran before Kazan, and the smile in his +face gave way to a look of perplexity. Kazan's lips had drawn suddenly +back. A fierce snarl rolled deep in his throat. The hair along his spine +stood up. His muscles twitched. Instinctively the professor turned. +Sandy McTrigger had come up quietly behind him. His brutal face wore a +grin as he looked at Kazan.</p> + +<p>"It's a fool job—tryin' to make friends with <i>him</i>" he said. Then he +added, with a sudden interested gleam in his eyes, "When you startin'?"</p> + +<p>"With first frost," replied McGill. "It ought to come soon. I'm going to +join Sergeant Conroy and his party at Fond du Lac by the first of +October."</p> + +<p>"And you're going up to Fond du Lac—alone?" queried Sandy. "Why don't +you take a man?"</p> + +<p>The little professor laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he asked. "I've been through the Athabasca waterways a dozen +times, and know the trail as well as I know Broadway. Besides, I like to +be alone. And the work isn't too hard, with the currents all flowing to +the north and east."</p> + +<p>Sandy was looking at the Dane, with his back to McGill. An exultant +gleam shot for an instant into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You're taking the dogs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Sandy lighted his pipe, and spoke like one strangely curious.</p> + +<p>"Must cost a heap to take these trips o' yourn, don't it?"</p> + +<p>"My last cost about seven thousand dollars. This will cost five," said +McGill.</p> + +<p>"Gawd!" breathed Sandy. "An' you carry all that along with you! Ain't +you afraid—something might happen—?"</p> + +<p>The little professor was looking the other way now. The carelessness in +his face and manner changed. His blue eyes grew a shade darker. A hard +smile which Sandy did not see hovered about his lips for an instant. +Then he turned, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I'm a very light sleeper," he said. "A footstep at night rouses me. +Even a man's breathing awakes me, when I make up my mind that I must be +on my guard. And, besides"—he drew from his pocket a blue-steeled +Savage automatic—"I know how to use <i>this</i>." He pointed to a knot in +the wall of the cabin. "Observe," he said. Five times he fired at twenty +paces, and when Sandy went up to look at the knot he gave a gasp. There +was one jagged hole where the knot had been.</p> + +<p>"Pretty good," he grinned. "Most men couldn't do better'n that with a +rifle."</p> + +<p>When Sandy left, McGill followed him with a suspicious gleam in his +eyes, and a curious smile on his lips. Then he turned to Kazan.</p> + +<p>"Guess you've got him figgered out about right, old man," he laughed +softly. "I don't blame you very much for wanting to get him by the +throat. Perhaps—"</p> + +<p>He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and went into the cabin. Kazan +dropped his head between his forepaws, and lay still, with wide-open +eyes. It was late afternoon, early in September, and each night brought +now the first chill breaths of autumn. Kazan watched the last glow of +the sun as it faded out of the southern skies. Darkness always followed +swiftly after that, and with darkness came more fiercely his wild +longing for freedom. Night after night he had gnawed at his steel chain. +Night after night he had watched the stars, and the moon, and had +listened for Gray Wolf's call, while the big Dane lay sleeping. To-night +it was colder than usual, and the keen tang of the wind that came fresh +from the west stirred him strangely. It set his blood afire with what +the Indians call the Frost Hunger. Lethargic summer was gone and the +days and nights of hunting were at hand. He wanted to leap out into +freedom and run until he was exhausted, with Gray Wolf at his side. He +knew that Gray Wolf was off there—where the stars hung low in the clear +sky, and that she was waiting. He strained at the end of his chain, and +whined. All that night he was restless—more restless than he had been +at any time before. Once, in the far distance, he heard a cry that he +thought was the cry of Gray Wolf, and his answer roused McGill from deep +sleep. It was dawn, and the little professor dressed himself and came +out of the cabin. With satisfaction he noted the exhilarating snap in +the air. He wet his fingers and held them above his head, chuckling when +he found the wind had swung into the north. He went to Kazan, and talked +to him. Among other things he said, "This'll put the black flies to +sleep, Kazan. A day or two more of it and we'll start."</p> + +<p>Five days later McGill led first the Dane, and then Kazan, to a packed +canoe. Sandy McTrigger saw them off, and Kazan watched for a chance to +leap at him. Sandy kept his distance, and McGill watched the two with a +thought that set the blood running swiftly behind the mask of his +careless smile. They had slipped a mile down-stream when he leaned over +and laid a fearless hand on Kazan's head. Something in the touch of that +hand, and in the professor's voice, kept Kazan from a desire to snap at +him. He tolerated the friendship with expressionless eyes and a +motionless body.</p> + +<p>"I was beginning to fear I wouldn't have much sleep, old boy," chuckled +McGill ambiguously, "but I guess I can take a nap now and then with +<i>you</i> along!"</p> + +<p>He made camp that night fifteen miles up the lake shore. The big Dane he +fastened to a sapling twenty yards from his small silk tent, but Kazan's +chain he made fast to the butt of a stunted birch that held down the +tent-flap. Before he went into the tent for the night McGill pulled out +his automatic and examined it with care.</p> + +<p>For three days the journey continued without a mishap along the shore of +Lake Athabasca. On the fourth night McGill pitched his tent in a clump +of <i>banskian</i> pine a hundred yards back from the water. All that day the +wind had come steadily from behind them, and for at least a half of the +day the professor had been watching Kazan closely. From the west there +had now and then come a scent that stirred him uneasily. Since noon he +had sniffed that wind. Twice McGill had heard him growling deep in his +throat, and once, when the scent had come stronger than usual, he had +bared his fangs, and the bristles stood up along his spine. For an hour +after striking camp the little professor did not build a fire, but sat +looking up the shore of the lake through his hunting glass. It was dusk +when he returned to where he had put up his tent and chained the dogs. +For a few moments he stood unobserved, looking at the wolf-dog. Kazan +was still uneasy. He lay <i>facing</i> the west. McGill made note of this, +for the big Dane lay behind Kazan—to the east. Under ordinary +conditions Kazan would have faced him. He was sure now that there was +something in the west wind. A little shiver ran up his back as he +thought of what it might be.</p> + +<p>Behind a rock he built a very small fire, and prepared supper. After +this he went into the tent, and when he came out he carried a blanket +under his arm. He chuckled as he stood for a moment over Kazan.</p> + +<p>"We're not going to sleep in there to-night, old hoy," he said. "I don't +like what you've found in the west wind. It may he a—<i>thunder-storm!</i>" +He laughed at his joke, and buried himself in a clump of stunted +<i>banskians</i> thirty paces from the tent. Here he rolled himself in his +blanket, and went to sleep.</p> + +<p>It was a quiet starlit night, and hours afterward Kazan dropped his nose +between his forepaws and drowsed. It was the snap of a twig that roused +him. The sound did not awaken the sluggish Dane but instantly Kazan's +head was alert, his keen nostrils sniffing the air. What he had smelled +all day was heavy about him now. He lay still and quivering. Slowly, +from out of the <i>banskians</i> behind the tent, there came a figure. It was +not the little professor. It approached cautiously, with lowered head +and hunched shoulders, and the starlight revealed the murderous face of +Sandy McTrigger. Kazan crouched low. He laid his head flat between his +forepaws. His long fangs gleamed. But he made no sound that betrayed his +concealment under a thick <i>banskian</i> shrub. Step by step Sandy +approached, and at last he reached the flap of the tent. He did not +carry a club or a whip in his hand now. In the place of either of those +was the glitter of steel. At the door to the tent he paused, and peered +in, his back to Kazan.</p> + +<p>Silently, swiftly—the wolf now in every movement, Kazan came to his +feet. He forgot the chain that held him. Ten feet away stood the enemy +he hated above all others he had ever known. Every ounce of strength in +his splendid body gathered itself for the spring. And then he leaped. +This time the chain did not pull him back, almost neck-broken. Age and +the elements had weakened the leather collar he had worn since the days +of his slavery in the traces, and it gave way with a snap. Sandy turned, +and in a second leap Kazan's fangs sank into the flesh of his arm. With +a startled cry the man fell, and as they rolled over on the ground the +big Dane's deep voice rolled out in thunderous alarm as he tugged at his +leash. In the fall Kazan's hold was broken. In an instant he was on his +feet, ready for another attack. And then the change came. He was +<i>free</i>. The collar was gone from his neck. The forest, the stars, the +whispering wind were all about him. <i>Here</i> were men, and off there +was—Gray Wolf! His ears dropped, and he turned swiftly, and slipped +like a shadow back into the glorious freedom of his world.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards away something stopped him for an instant. It was not +the big Dane's voice, but the sharp <i>crack—crack—crack</i>, of the little +professor's automatic. And above that sound there rose the voice of +Sandy McTrigger in a weird and terrible cry.</p> + + + + +<a name="26"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXVI</h2> + +<h3>An Empty World</h3> + +<p>Mile after mile Kazan went on. For a time he was oppressed by the +shivering note of death that had come to him in Sandy McTrigger's cry, +and he slipped through the <i>banskians</i> like a shadow, his ears +flattened, his tail trailing, his hindquarters betraying that curious +slinking quality of the wolf and dog stealing away from danger. Then he +came out upon a plain, and the stillness, the billion stars in the clear +vault of the sky, and the keen air that carried with it a breath of the +Arctic barrens made him alert and questioning. He faced the direction of +the wind. Somewhere off there, far to the south and west, was Gray Wolf. +For the first time in many weeks he sat back on his haunches and gave +the deep and vibrant call that echoed weirdly for miles about him. Back +in the <i>banskians</i> the big Dane heard it, and whined. From over the +still body of Sandy McTrigger the little professor looked up with a +white tense face, and listened for a second cry. But instinct told Kazan +that to that first call there would be no answer, and now he struck out +swiftly, galloping mile after mile, as a dog follows the trail of its +master home. He did not turn hack to the lake, nor was his direction +toward Red Gold City. As straight as he might have followed a road +blazed by the hand of man he cut across the forty miles of plain and +swamp and forest and rocky ridge that lay between him and the McFarlane. +All that night he did not call again for Gray Wolf. With him reasoning +was a process brought about by habit—by precedent—and as Gray Wolf had +waited for him many times before he knew that she would be waiting for +him now near the sand-bar.</p> + +<p>By dawn he had reached the river, within three miles of the sand-bar. +Scarcely was the sun up when he stood on the white strip of sand where +he and Gray Wolf had come down to drink. Expectantly and confidently he +looked about him for Gray Wolf, whining softly, and wagging his tail. He +began to search for her scent, but rains had washed even her footprints +from the clean sand. All that day he searched for her along the river +and out on the plain. He went to where they had killed their last +rabbit. He sniffed at the bushes where the poison baits had hung. Again +and again he sat back on his haunches and sent out his mating cry to +her. And slowly, as he did these things, nature was working in him that +miracle of the wild which the Crees have named the "spirit call." As it +had worked in Gray Wolf, so now it stirred the blood of Kazan. With the +going of the sun, and the sweeping about him of shadowy night, he turned +more and more to the south and east. His whole world was made up of the +trails over which he had hunted. Beyond those places he did not know +that there was such a thing as existence. And in that world, small in +his understanding of things, was Gray Wolf. He could not miss her. That +world, in his comprehension of it, ran from the McFarlane in a narrow +trail through the forests and over the plains to the little valley from +which the beavers had driven them. If Gray Wolf was not here—she was +there, and tirelessly he resumed his quest of her.</p> + +<p>Not until the stars were fading out of the sky again, and gray day was +giving place to night, did exhaustion and hunger stop him. He killed a +rabbit, and for hours after he had feasted he lay close to his kill, and +slept. Then he went on.</p> + +<p>The fourth night he came to the little valley between the two ridges, +and under the stars, more brilliant now in the chill clearness of the +early autumn nights, he followed the creek down into their old swamp +home. It was broad day when he reached the edge of the great beaver pond +that now completely surrounded the windfall under which Gray-Wolf's +second-born had come into the world. Broken Tooth and the other beavers +had wrought a big change in what had once been his home and Gray Wolf's, +and for many minutes Kazan stood silent and motionless at the edge of +the pond, sniffing the air heavy with the unpleasant odor of the +usurpers. Until now his spirit had remained unbroken. Footsore, with +thinned sides and gaunt head, he circled slowly through the swamp. All +that day he searched. And his crest lay flat now, and there was a hunted +look in the droop of his shoulders and in the shifting look of his +eyes. Gray Wolf was gone.</p> + +<p>Slowly nature was impinging that fact upon him. She had passed out of +his world and out of his life, and he was filled with a loneliness and a +grief so great that the forest seemed strange, and the stillness of the +wild a thing that now oppressed and frightened him. Once more the dog in +him was mastering the wolf. With Gray Wolf he had possessed the world of +freedom. Without her, that world was so big and strange and empty that +it appalled him. Late in the afternoon he came upon a little pile of +crushed clamshells on the shore of the stream. He sniffed at +them—turned away—went back, and sniffed again. It was where Gray Wolf +had made a last feast in the swamp before continuing south. But the +scent she had left behind was not strong enough to tell Kazan, and for a +second time he turned away. That night he slunk under a log, and cried +himself to sleep. Deep in the night he grieved in his uneasy slumber, +like a child. And day after day, and night after night, Kazan remained a +slinking creature of the big swamp, mourning for the one creature that +had brought him out of chaos into light, who had filled his world for +him, and who, in going from him, had taken from this world even the +things that Gray Wolf had lost in her blindness.</p> + + + + +<a name="27"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXVII</h2> + +<h3>The Call Of Sun Rock</h3> + +<p>In the golden glow of the autumn sun there came up the stream overlooked +by the Sun Rock one day a man, a woman and a child in a canoe. +Civilization had done for lovely Joan what it had done for many another +wild flower transplanted from the depths of the wilderness. Her cheeks +were thin. Her blue eyes had lost their luster. She coughed, and when +she coughed the man looked at her with love and fear in his eyes. But +now, slowly, the man had begun to see the transformation, and on the day +their canoe pointed up the stream and into the wonderful valley that had +been their home before the call of the distant city came to them, he +noted the flush gathering once more in her cheeks, the fuller redness of +her lips, and the gathering glow of happiness and content in her eyes. +He laughed softly as he saw these things, and he blessed the forests. In +the canoe she had leaned back, with her head almost against his +shoulder, and he stopped paddling to draw her to him, and run his +fingers through the soft golden masses of her hair.</p> + +<p>"You are happy again, Joan," he laughed joyously. "The doctors were +right. You are a part of the forests."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am happy," she whispered, and suddenly there came a little +thrill into her voice, and she pointed to a white finger of sand running +out into the stream. "Do you remember—years and years ago, it +seems—that Kazan left us here? <i>She</i> was on the sand over there, +calling to him. Do you remember?" There was a little tremble about her +mouth, and she added, "I wonder—where they—have gone."</p> + +<p>The cabin was as they had left it. Only the crimson <i>bakneesh</i> had grown +up about it, and shrubs and tall grass had sprung up near its walls. +Once more it took on life, and day by day the color came deeper into +Joan's cheeks, and her voice was filled with its old wild sweetness of +song. Joan's husband cleared the trails over his old trap-lines, and +Joan and the little Joan, who romped and talked now, transformed the +cabin into <i>home</i>. One night the man returned to the cabin late, and +when he came in there was a glow of excitement in Joan's blue eyes, and +a tremble in her voice when she greeted him.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear it?" she asked. "Did you hear—<i>the call</i>?"</p> + +<p>He nodded, stroking her soft hair.</p> + +<p>"I was a mile back in the creek swamp," he said. "I heard it!"</p> + +<p>Joan's hands clutched his arms.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't Kazan," she said. "I would recognize <i>his</i> voice. But it +seemed to me it was like the other—the call that came that morning from +the sand-bar, his <i>mate</i>?"</p> + +<p>The man was thinking. Joan's fingers tightened. She was breathing a +little quickly.</p> + +<p>"Will you promise me this?" she asked, "Will you promise me that you +will never hunt or trap for wolves?"</p> + +<p>"I had thought of that," he replied. "I thought of it—after I heard the +call. Yes, I will promise."</p> + +<p>Joan's arms stole up about his neck.</p> + +<p>"We loved Kazan," she whispered. "And you might kill him—or <i>her</i>"</p> + +<p>Suddenly she stopped. Both listened. The door was a little ajar, and to +them there came again the wailing mate-call of the wolf. Joan ran to the +door. Her husband followed. Together they stood silent, and with tense +breath Joan pointed over the starlit plain.</p> + +<p>"Listen! Listen!" she commanded. "It's her cry, <i>and it came from the +Sun Rock</i>!"</p> + +<p>She ran out into the night, forgetting that the man was close behind her +now, forgetting that little Joan was alone in her bed. And to them, from +miles and miles across the plain, there came a wailing cry in answer—a +cry that seemed a part of the wind, and that thrilled Joan until her +breath broke in a strange sob.</p> + +<p>Farther out on the plain she went and then stopped, with the golden glow +of the autumn moon and the stars shimmering in her hair and eyes. It was +many minutes before the cry came again, and then it was so near that +Joan put her hands to her mouth, and her cry rang out over the plain as +in the days of old.</p> + +<p>"<i>Kazan! Kazan! Kazan</i>!"</p> + +<p>At the top of the Sun Rock, Gray Wolf—gaunt and thinned by +starvation—heard the woman's cry, and the call that was in her throat +died away in a whine. And to the north a swiftly moving shadow stopped +for a moment, and stood like a thing of rock under the starlight. It was +Kazan. A strange fire leaped through his body. Every fiber of his brute +understanding was afire with the knowledge that here was <i>home</i>. It was +here, long ago, that he had lived, and loved, and fought—and all at +once the dreams that had grown faded and indistinct in his memory came +back to him as real living things. For, coming to him faintly over the +plain, <i>he heard Joan's voice!</i></p> + +<p>In the starlight Joan stood, tense and white, when from out of the pale +mists of the moon-glow he came to her, cringing on his belly, panting +and wind-run, and with a strange whining note in his throat. And as Joan +went to him, her arms reaching out, her lips sobbing his name over and +over again, the man stood and looked down upon them with the wonder of a +new and greater understanding in his face. He had no fear of the +wolf-dog now. And as Joan's arms hugged Kazan's great shaggy head up to +her he heard the whining gasping joy of the beast and the sobbing +whispering voice of the girl, and with tensely gripped hands he faced +the Sun Rock.</p> + +<p>"My Gawd," he breathed. "I believe—it's so—"</p> + +<p>As if in response to the thought in his mind, there came once more +across the plain Gray Wolf's mate-seeking cry of grief and of +loneliness. Swiftly as though struck by a lash Kazan was on his +feet—oblivious of Joan's touch, of her voice, of the presence of the +man. In another instant he was gone, and Joan flung herself against her +husband's breast, and almost fiercely took his face between her two +hands.</p> + +<p>"<i>Now</i> do you believe?" she cried pantingly. "<i>Now</i> do you believe in +the God of my world—the God I have lived with, the God that gives souls +to the wild things, the God that—that has brought—us, +all—together—once more—<i>home</i>!"</p> + +<p>His arms closed gently about her.</p> + +<p>"I believe, my Joan," he whispered.</p> + +<p>"And you understand—now—what it means, 'Thou shalt not kill'?"</p> + +<p>"Except that it brings us life—yes, I understand," he replied.</p> + +<p>Her warm soft hands stroked his face. Her blue eyes, filled with the +glory of the stars, looked up into his.</p> + +<p>"Kazan and <i>she</i>—you and I—and the baby! Are you sorry—that we came +back?" she asked.</p> + +<p>So close he drew her against his breast that she did not hear the words +he whispered in the soft warmth of her hair. And after that, for many +hours, they sat in the starlight in front of the cabin door. But they +did not hear again that lonely cry from the Sun Rock. Joan and her +husband understood.</p> + +<p>"He'll visit us again to-morrow," the man said at last. "Come, Joan, let +us go to bed."</p> + +<p>Together they entered the cabin.</p> + +<p>And that night, side by side, Kazan and Gray Wolf hunted again in the +moonlit plain.</p> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + +***** This file should be named 10084-h.htm or 10084-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/0/8/10084/ + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + + + diff --git a/10084.txt b/10084.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb25cf8 --- /dev/null +++ b/10084.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6819 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Kazan + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: November 14, 2003 [EBook #10084] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + + + + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: He heard Joan's voice] + +KAZAN + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +Author of +The Danger Trail, Etc. + +Illustrated by +Gayle Hoskins and Frank Hoffman + + +1914 + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE MIRACLE + + II. INTO THE NORTH + + III. McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + IV. FREE FROM BONDS + + V. THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + VI. JOAN + + VII. OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + VIII. THE GREAT CHANGE + + IX. THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + X. THE DAYS OF FIRE + + XI. ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + XII. THE RED DEATH + + XIII. THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + XIV. THE RIGHT OF FANG + + XV. A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + XVI. THE CALL + + XVII. HIS SON + +XVIII. THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + XIX. THE USURPERS + + XX. A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + XXI. A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + XXII. SANDY'S METHOD + +XXIII. PROFESSOR McGILL + + XXIV. ALONE IN DARKNESS + + XXV. THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + XXVI. AN EMPTY WORLD + +XXVII. THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MIRACLE + + +Kazan lay mute and motionless, his gray nose between his forepaws, his +eyes half closed. A rock could have appeared scarcely less lifeless than +he; not a muscle twitched; not a hair moved; not an eyelid quivered. Yet +every drop of the wild blood in his splendid body was racing in a +ferment of excitement that Kazan had never before experienced; every +nerve and fiber of his wonderful muscles was tense as steel wire. +Quarter-strain wolf, three-quarters "husky," he had lived the four years +of his life in the wilderness. He had felt the pangs of starvation. He +knew what it meant to freeze. He had listened to the wailing winds of +the long Arctic night over the barrens. He had heard the thunder of the +torrent and the cataract, and had cowered under the mighty crash of the +storm. His throat and sides were scarred by battle, and his eyes were +red with the blister of the snows. He was called Kazan, the Wild Dog, +because he was a giant among his kind and as fearless, even, as the men +who drove him through the perils of a frozen world. + +He had never known fear--until now. He had never felt in him before the +desire to _run_--not even on that terrible day in the forest when he had +fought and killed the big gray lynx. He did not know what it was that +frightened him, but he knew that he was in another world, and that many +things in it startled and alarmed him. It was his first glimpse of +civilization. He wished that his master would come back into the strange +room where he had left him. It was a room filled with hideous things. +There were great human faces on the wall, but they did not move or +speak, but stared at him in a way he had never seen people look before. +He remembered having looked on a master who lay very quiet and very cold +in the snow, and he had sat back on his haunches and wailed forth the +death song; but these people on the walls looked alive, and yet seemed +dead. + +Suddenly Kazan lifted his ears a little. He heard steps, then low +voices. One of them was his master's voice. But the other--it sent a +little tremor through him! Once, so long ago that it must have been in +his puppyhood days, he seemed to have had a dream of a laugh that was +like the girl's laugh--a laugh that was all at once filled with a +wonderful happiness, the thrill of a wonderful love, and a sweetness +that made Kazan lift his head as they came in. He looked straight at +them, his red eyes gleaming. At once he knew that she must be dear to +his master, for his master's arm was about her. In the glow of the light +he saw that her hair was very bright, and that there was the color of +the crimson _bakneesh_ vine in her face and the blue of the _bakneesh_ +flower in her shining eyes. Suddenly she saw him, and with a little cry +darted toward him. + +"Stop!" shouted the man. "He's dangerous! Kazan--" + +She was on her knees beside him, all fluffy and sweet and beautiful, her +eyes shining wonderfully, her hands about to touch him. Should he cringe +back? Should he snap? Was she one of the things on the wall, and his +enemy? Should he leap at her white throat? He saw the man running +forward, pale as death. Then her hand fell upon his head and the touch +sent a thrill through him that quivered in every nerve of his body. With +both hands she turned up his head. Her face was very close, and he heard +her say, almost sobbingly: + +"And you are Kazan--dear old Kazan, my Kazan, my hero dog--who brought +him home to me when all the others had died! My Kazan--my hero!" + +And then, miracle of miracles, her face was crushed down against him, +and he felt her sweet warm touch. + +In those moments Kazan did not move. He scarcely breathed. It seemed a +long time before the girl lifted her face from him. And when she did, +there were tears in her blue eyes, and the man was standing above them, +his hands gripped tight, his jaws set. + +"I never knew him to let any one touch him--with their naked hand," he +said in a tense wondering voice. "Move back quietly, Isobel. Good +heaven--look at that!" + +Kazan whined softly, his bloodshot eyes on the girl's face. He wanted to +feel her hand again; he wanted to touch her face. Would they beat him +with a club, he wondered, if he _dared_! He meant no harm now. He would +kill for her. He cringed toward her, inch by inch, his eyes never +faltering. He heard what the man said--"Good heaven! Look at that!"--and +he shuddered. But no blow fell to drive him back. His cold muzzle +touched her filmy dress, and she looked at him, without moving, her wet +eyes blazing like stars. + +"See!" she whispered. "See!" + +Half an inch more--an inch, two inches, and he gave his big gray body a +hunch toward her. Now his muzzle traveled slowly upward--over her foot, +to her lap, and at last touched the warm little hand that lay there. His +eyes were still on her face: he saw a queer throbbing in her bare white +throat, and then a trembling of her lips as she looked up at the man +with a wonderful look. He, too, knelt down beside them, and put his arm +about the girl again, and patted the dog on his head. Kazan did not like +the man's touch. He mistrusted it, as nature had taught him to mistrust +the touch of all men's hands, but he permitted it because he saw that it +in some way pleased the girl. + +"Kazan, old boy, you wouldn't hurt her, would you?" said his master +softly. "We both love her, don't we, boy? Can't help it, can we? And +she's ours, Kazan, all _ours_! She belongs to you and to me, and we're +going to take care of her all our lives, and if we ever have to we'll +fight for her like hell--won't we? Eh, Kazan, old boy?" + +For a long time after they left him where he was lying on the rug, +Kazan's eyes did not leave the girl. He watched and listened--and all +the time there grew more and more in him the craving to creep up to them +and touch the girl's hand, or her dress, or her foot. After a time his +master said something, and with a little laugh the girl jumped up and +ran to a big, square, shining thing that stood crosswise in a corner, +and which had a row of white teeth longer than his own body. He had +wondered what those teeth were for. The girl's fingers touched them now, +and all the whispering of winds that he had ever heard, all the music of +the waterfalls and the rapids and the trilling of birds in spring-time, +could not equal the sounds they made. It was his first music. For a +moment it startled and frightened him, and then he felt the fright pass +away and a strange tingling in his body. He wanted to sit back on his +haunches and howl, as he had howled at the billion stars in the skies on +cold winter nights. But something kept him from doing that. It was the +girl. Slowly he began slinking toward her. He felt the eyes of the man +upon him, and stopped. Then a little more--inches at a time, with his +throat and jaw straight out along the floor! He was half-way to +her--half-way across the room--when the wonderful sounds grew very soft +and very low. + +"Go on!" he heard the man urge in a low quick voice. "Go on! Don't +stop!" + +The girl turned her head, saw Kazan cringing there on the floor, and +continued to play. The man was still looking, but his eyes could not +keep Kazan back now. He went nearer, still nearer, until at last his +outreaching muzzle touched her dress where it lay piled on the floor. +And then--he lay trembling, for she had begun to sing. He had heard a +Cree woman crooning in front of her tepee; he had heard the wild chant +of the caribou song--but he had never heard anything like this +wonderful sweetness that fell from the lips of the girl. He forgot his +master's presence now. Quietly, cringingly, so that she would not know, +he lifted his head. He saw her looking at him; there was something in +her wonderful eyes that gave him confidence, and he laid his head in her +lap. For the second time he felt the touch of a woman's hand, and he +closed his eyes with a long sighing breath. The music stopped. There +came a little fluttering sound above him, like a laugh and a sob in one. +He heard his master cough. + +"I've always loved the old rascal--but I never thought he'd do that," he +said; and his voice sounded queer to Kazan. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +INTO THE NORTH + + +Wonderful days followed for Kazan. He missed the forests and deep snows. +He missed the daily strife of keeping his team-mates in trace, the +yapping at his heels, the straight long pull over the open spaces and +the barrens. He missed the "Koosh--koosh--Hoo-yah!" of the driver, the +spiteful snap of his twenty-foot caribou-gut whip, and that yelping and +straining behind him that told him he had his followers in line. But +something had come to take the place of that which he missed. It was in +the room, in the air all about him, even when the girl or his master was +not near. Wherever she had been, he found the presence of that strange +thing that took away his loneliness. It was the woman scent, and +sometimes it made him whine softly when the girl herself was actually +with him. He was not lonely, nights, when he should have been out +howling at the stars. He was not lonely, because one night he prowled +about until he found a certain door, and when the girl opened that door +in the morning she found him curled up tight against it. She had reached +down and hugged him, the thick smother of her long hair falling all over +him in a delightful perfume; thereafter she placed a rug before the door +for him to sleep on. All through the long nights he knew that she was +just beyond the door, and he was content. Each day he thought less and +less of the wild places, and more of her. + +Then there came the beginning of the change. There was a strange hurry +and excitement around him, and the girl paid less attention to him. He +grew uneasy. He sniffed the change in the air, and he began to study his +master's face. Then there came the morning, very early, when the babiche +collar and the iron chain were fastened to him again. Not until he had +followed his master out through the door and into the street did he +begin to understand. They were sending him away! He sat suddenly back on +his haunches and refused to budge. + +"Come, Kazan," coaxed the man. "Come on, boy." + +He hung back and showed his white fangs. He expected the lash of a whip +or the blow of a club, but neither came. His master laughed and took him +back to the house. When they left it again, the girl was with them and +walked with her hand touching his head. It was she who persuaded him to +leap up through a big dark hole into the still darker interior of a car, +and it was she who lured him to the darkest corner of all, where his +master fastened his chain. Then they went out, laughing like two +children. For hours after that, Kazan lay still and tense, listening to +the queer rumble of wheels under him. Several times those wheels +stopped, and he heard voices outside. At last he was sure that he heard +a familiar voice, and he strained at his chain and whined. The closed +door slid back. A man with a lantern climbed in, followed by his master. +He paid no attention to them, but glared out through the opening into +the gloom of night. He almost broke loose when he leaped down upon the +white snow, but when he saw no one there, he stood rigid, sniffing the +air. Over him were the stars he had howled at all his life, and about +him were the forests, black and silent, shutting them in like a wall. +Vainly he sought for that one scent that was missing, and Thorpe heard +the low note of grief in his shaggy throat. He took the lantern and held +it above his head, at the same time loosening his hold on the leash. At +that signal there came a voice from out of the night. It came from +behind them, and Kazan whirled so suddenly that the loosely held chain +slipped from the man's hand. He saw the glow of other lanterns. And +then, once more, the voice-- + +"Kaa-aa-zan!" + +He was off like a bolt. Thorpe laughed to himself as he followed. + +"The old pirate!" he chuckled. + +When he came to the lantern-lighted space back of the caboose, Thorpe +found Kazan crouching down at a woman's feet. It was Thorpe's wife. She +smiled triumphantly at him as he came up out of the gloom. + +"You've won!" he laughed, not unhappily. "I'd have wagered my last +dollar he wouldn't do that for any voice on earth. You've won! Kazan, +you brute, I've lost you!" + +His face suddenly sobered as Isobel stooped to pick up the end of the +chain. + +"He's yours, Issy," he added quickly, "but you must let me care for him +until--we _know_. Give me the chain. I won't trust him even now. He's a +wolf. I've seen him take an Indian's hand off at a single snap. I've +seen him tear out another dog's jugular in one leap. He's an outlaw--a +bad dog--in spite of the fact that he hung to me like a hero and brought +me out alive. I can't trust him. Give me the chain--" + +He did not finish. With the snarl of a wild beast Kazan had leaped to +his feet. His lips drew up and bared his long fangs. His spine +stiffened, and with a sudden cry of warning, Thorpe dropped a hand to +the revolver at his belt. + +Kazan paid no attention to him. Another form had approached out of the +night, and stood now in the circle of illumination made by the lanterns. +It was McCready, who was to accompany Thorpe and his young wife back to +the Red River camp, where Thorpe was in charge of the building of the +new Trans-continental. The man was straight, powerfully built and clean +shaven. His jaw was so square that it was brutal, and there was a glow +in his eyes that was almost like the passion in Kazan's as he looked at +Isobel. + +Her red and white stocking-cap had slipped free of her head and was +hanging over her shoulder. The dull blaze of the lanterns shone in the +warm glow of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, suddenly +turned to him, were as blue as the bluest _bakneesh_ flower and glowed +like diamonds. McCready shifted his gaze, and instantly her hand fell on +Kazan's head. For the first time the dog did not seem to feel her touch. +He still snarled at McCready, the rumbling menace in his throat growing +deeper. Thorpe's wife tugged at the chain. + +"Down, Kazan--down!" she commanded. + +At the sound of her voice he relaxed. + +"Down!" she repeated, and her free hand fell on his head again. He slunk +to her feet. But his lips were still drawn back. Thorpe was watching +him. He wondered at the deadly venom that shot from the wolfish eyes, +and looked at McCready. The big guide had uncoiled his long dog-whip. A +strange look had come into his face. He was staring hard at Kazan. +Suddenly he leaned forward, with both hands on his knees, and for a +tense moment or two he seemed to forget that Isobel Thorpe's wonderful +blue eyes were looking at him. + +"Hoo-koosh, Pedro--_charge_!" + +That one word--_charge_--was taught only to the dogs in the service of +the Northwest Mounted Police. Kazan did not move. McCready straightened, +and quick as a shot sent the long lash of his whip curling out into the +night with a crack like a pistol report. + +"Charge, Pedro--_charge_!" + +The rumble in Kazan's throat deepened to a snarling growl, but not a +muscle of his body moved. McCready turned to Thorpe. + +"I could have sworn that I knew that dog," he said. "If it's Pedro, he's +_bad_!" + +Thorpe was taking the chain. Only the girl saw the look that came for an +instant into McCready's face. It made her shiver. A few minutes before, +when the train had first stopped at Les Pas, she had offered her hand +to this man and she had seen the same thing then. But even as she +shuddered she recalled the many things her husband had told her of the +forest people. She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough +manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and +suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of +fear and dislike. + +"He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make +friends with him?" + +She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain. +McCready came to her side as she bent over the dog. His back was to +Thorpe as he hunched down. Isobel's bowed head was within a foot of his +face. He could see the glow in her cheek and the pouting curve of her +mouth as she quieted the low rumbling in Kazan's throat. Thorpe stood +ready to pull back on the chain, but for a moment McCready was between +him and his wife, and he could not see McCready's face. The man's eyes +were not on Kazan. He was staring at the girl. + +"You're brave," he said. "I don't dare do that. He would take off my +hand!" + +He took the lantern from Thorpe and led the way to a narrow snow-path +branching off, from the track. Hidden back in the thick spruce was the +camp that Thorpe had left a fortnight before. There were two tents there +now in place of the one that he and his guide had used. A big fire was +burning in front of them. Close to the fire was a long sledge, and +fastened to trees just within the outer circle of firelight Kazan saw +the shadowy forms and gleaming eyes of his team-mates. He stood stiff +and motionless while Thorpe fastened him to a sledge. Once more he was +back in his forests--and in command. His mistress was laughing and +clapping her hands delightedly in the excitement of the strange and +wonderful life of which she had now become a part. Thorpe had thrown +back the flap of their tent, and she was entering ahead of him. She did +not look back. She spoke no word to him. He whined, and turned his red +eyes on McCready. + +In the tent Thorpe was saying: + +"I'm sorry old Jackpine wouldn't go back with us, Issy. He drove me +down, but for love or money I couldn't get him to return. He's a Mission +Indian, and I'd give a month's salary to have you see him handle the +dogs. I'm not sure about this man McCready. He's a queer chap, the +Company's agent here tells me, and knows the woods like a book. But dogs +don't like a stranger. Kazan isn't going to take to him worth a cent!" + +Kazan heard the girl's voice, and stood rigid and motionless listening +to it. He did not hear or see McCready when he came up stealthily behind +him. The man's voice came as suddenly as a shot at his heels. + +"_Pedro_!" + +In an instant Kazan cringed as if touched by a lash. + +"Got you that time--didn't I, you old devil!" whispered McCready, his +face strangely pale in the firelight. "Changed your name, eh? But I +_got_ you--didn't I?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + +For a long time after he had uttered those words McCready sat in silence +beside the fire. Only for a moment or two at a time did his eyes leave +Kazan. After a little, when he was sure that Thorpe and Isobel had +retired for the night, he went into his own tent and returned with a +flask of whisky. During the next half-hour he drank frequently. Then he +went over and sat on the end of the sledge, just beyond the reach of +Kazan's chain. + +"Got you, didn't I?" he repeated, the effect of the liquor beginning to +show in the glitter of his eyes. "Wonder who changed your name, Pedro. +And how the devil did _he_ come by you? Ho, ho, if you could only +talk--" + +They heard Thorpe's voice inside the tent. It was followed by a low +girlish peal of laughter, and McCready jerked himself erect. His face +blazed suddenly red, and he rose to his feet, dropping the flask in his +coat pocket. Walking around the fire, he tiptoed cautiously to the +shadow of a tree close to the tent and stood there for many minutes +listening. His eyes burned with a fiery madness when he returned to the +sledge and Kazan. It was midnight before he went into his own tent. + +In the warmth of the fire, Kazan's eyes slowly closed. He slumbered +uneasily, and his brain was filled with troubled pictures. At times he +was fighting, and his jaws snapped. At others he was straining at the +end of his chain, with McCready or his mistress just out of reach. He +felt the gentle touch of the girl's hand again and heard the wonderful +sweetness of her voice as she sang to him and his master, and his body +trembled and twitched with the thrills that had filled him that night. +And then the picture changed. He was running at the head of a splendid +team--six dogs of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police--and his master was +calling him Pedro! The scene shifted. They were in camp. His master was +young and smooth-faced and he helped from the sledge another man whose +hands were fastened in front of him by curious black rings. Again it was +later--and he was lying before a great fire. His master was sitting +opposite him, with his back to a tent, and as he looked, there came out +of the tent the man with the black rings--only now the rings were gone +and his hands were free, and in one of them he carried a heavy club. He +heard the terrible blow of the club as it fell on his master's head--and +the sound of it aroused him from his restless sleep. + +He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. +The fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that +precedes dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready. Again he was +standing close to the tent of his mistress, and he knew now that this +was the man who had worn the black iron rings, and that it was he who +had beaten him with whip and club for many long days after he had killed +his master. McCready heard the menace in his throat and came back +quickly to the fire. He began to whistle and draw the half-burned logs +together, and as the fire blazed up afresh he shouted to awaken Thorp +and Isobel. In a few minutes Thorpe appeared at the tent-flap and his +wife followed him out. Her loose hair rippled in billows of gold about +her shoulders and she sat down on the sledge, close to Kazan, and began +brushing it. McCready came up behind her and fumbled among the packages +on the sledge. As if by accident one of his hands buried itself for an +instant in the rich tresses that flowed down her back. She did not at +first feel the caressing touch of his fingers, and Thorpe's back was +toward them. + +Only Kazan saw the stealthy movement of the hand, the fondling clutch of +the fingers in her hair, and the mad passion burning in the eyes of the +man. Quicker than a lynx, the dog had leaped the length of his chain +across the sledge. McCready sprang back just in time, and as Kazan +reached the end of his chain he was jerked back so that his body struck +sidewise against the girl. Thorpe had turned in time to see the end of +the leap. He believed that Kazan had sprung at Isobel, and in his horror +no word or cry escaped his lips as he dragged her from where she had +half fallen over the sledge. He saw that she was not hurt, and he +reached for his revolver. It was in his holster in the tent. At his feet +was McCready's whip, and in the passion of the moment he seized it and +sprang upon Kazan. The dog crouched in the snow. He made no move to +escape or to attack. Only once in his life could he remember having +received a beating like that which Thorpe inflicted upon him now. But +not a whimper or a growl escaped him. + +[Illustration: "Not another blow!"] + +And then, suddenly, his mistress ran forward and caught the whip poised +above Thorpe's head. + +"Not another blow!" she cried, and something in her voice held him from +striking. McCready did not hear what she said then, but a strange look +came into Thorpe's eyes, and without a word he followed his wife into +their tent. + +"Kazan did not leap at me," she whispered, and she was trembling with a +sudden excitement. Her face was deathly white. "That man was behind me," +she went on, clutching her husband by the arm. "I felt him touch me--and +then Kazan sprang. He wouldn't bite _me_. It's the _man_! There's +something--wrong--" + +She was almost sobbing, and Thorpe drew her close in his arms. + +"I hadn't thought before--but it's strange," he said. "Didn't McCready +say something about knowing the dog? It's possible. Perhaps he's had +Kazan before and abused him in a way that the dog has not forgotten. +To-morrow I'll find out. But until I know--will you promise to keep away +from Kazan?" + +Isobel gave the promise. When they came out from the tent Kazan lifted +his great head. The stinging lash had closed one of his eyes and his +mouth was dripping blood. Isobel gave a low sob, but did not go near +him. Half blinded, he knew that his mistress had stopped his punishment, +and he whined softly, and wagged his thick tail in the snow. + +Never had he felt so miserable as through the long hard hours of the day +that followed, when he broke the trail for his team-mates into the +North. One of his eyes was closed and filled with stinging fire, and his +body was sore from the blows of the caribou lash. But it was not +physical pain that gave the sullen droop to his head and robbed his body +of that keen quick alertness of the lead-dog--the commander of his +mates. It was his spirit. For the first time in his life, it was broken. +McCready had beaten him--long ago; his master had beaten him; and +during all this day their voices were fierce and vengeful in his ears. +But it was his mistress who hurt him most. She held aloof from him, +always beyond they reach of his leash; and when they stopped to rest, +and again in camp, she looked at him with strange and wondering eyes, +and did not speak. She, too, was ready to beat him. He believed that, +and so slunk away from her and crouched on his belly in the snow. With +him, a broken spirit meant a broken heart, and that night he lurked in +one of the deepest shadows about the camp-fire and grieved alone. None +knew that it was grief--unless it was the girl. She did not move toward +him. She did not speak to him. But she watched him closely--and studied +him hardest when he was looking at McCready. + +Later, after Thorpe and his wife had gone into their tent, it began to +snow, and the effect of the snow upon McCready puzzled Kazan. The man +was restless, and he drank frequently from the flask that he had used +the night before. In the firelight his face grew redder and redder, and +Kazan could see the strange gleam of his teeth as he gazed at the tent +in which his mistress was sleeping. Again and again he went close to +that tent, and listened. Twice he heard movement. The last time, it was +the sound of Thorpe's deep breathing. McCready hurried back to the fire +and turned his face straight up to the sky. The snow was falling so +thickly that when he lowered his face he blinked and wiped his eyes. +Then he went out into the gloom and bent low over the trail they had +made a few hours before. It was almost obliterated by the falling snow. +Another hour and there would be no trail--nothing the next day to tell +whoever might pass that they had come this way. By morning it would +cover everything, even the fire, if he allowed it to die down. McCready +drank again, out in the darkness. Low words of an insane joy burst from +his lips. His head was hot with a drunken fire. His heart beat madly, +but scarcely more furiously than did Kazan's when the dog saw that +McCready was returning _with a club_! The club he placed on end against +a tree. Then he took a lantern from the sledge and lighted it. He +approached Thorpe's tent-flap, the lantern in his hand. + +"Ho, Thorpe--Thorpe!" he called. + +There was no answer. He could hear Thorpe breathing. He drew the flap +aside a little, and raised his voice. + +"Thorpe!" + +Still there was no movement inside, and he untied the flap strings and +thrust in his lantern. The light flashed on Isobel's golden head, and +McCready stared at it, his eyes burning like red coals, until he saw +that Thorpe was awakening. Quickly he dropped the flap and rustled it +from the outside. + +"Ho, Thorpe!--Thorpe!" he called again. + +This time Thorpe replied. + +"Hello, McCready--is that you?" + +McCready drew the flap back a little, and spoke in a low voice. + +"Yes. Can you come out a minute? Something's happening out in the woods. +Don't wake up your wife!" + +He drew back and waited. A minute later Thorpe came quietly out of the +tent. McCready pointed into the thick spruce. + +"I'll swear there's some one nosing around the camp," he said. "I'm +certain that I saw a man out there a few minutes ago, when I went for a +log. It's a good night for stealing dogs. Here--you take the lantern! If +I wasn't clean fooled, we'll find a trail in the snow." + +He gave Thorpe the lantern and picked up the heavy club. A growl rose in +Kazan's throat, but he choked it back. He wanted to snarl forth his +warning, to leap at the end of his leash, but he knew that if he did +that, they would return and beat him. So he lay still, trembling and +shivering, and whining softly. He watched them until they +disappeared--and then waited--listened. At last he heard the crunch of +snow. He was not surprised to see McCready come back alone. He had +expected him to return alone. For he knew what a club meant! + +McCready's face was terrible now. It was like a beast's. He was hatless. +Kazan slunk deeper in his shadow at the low horrible laugh that fell +from his lips--for the man still held the club. In a moment he dropped +that, and approached the tent. He drew back the flap and peered in. +Thorpe's wife was sleeping, and as quietly as a cat he entered and hung +the lantern on a nail in the tent-pole. His movement did not awaken her, +and for a few moments he stood there, staring--staring. + +Outside, crouching in the deep shadow, Kazan tried to fathom the meaning +of these strange things that were happening. Why had his master and +McCready gone out into the forest? Why had not his master returned? It +was his master, and not McCready, who belonged in that tent. Then why +was McCready there? He watched McCready as he entered, and suddenly the +dog was on his feet, his back tense and bristling, his limbs rigid. He +saw McCready's huge shadow on the canvas, and a moment later there came +a strange piercing cry. In the wild terror of that cry he recognized +_her_ voice--and he leaped toward the tent. The leash stopped him, +choking the snarl in his throat. He saw the shadows struggling now, and +there came cry after cry. She was calling to his master, and with his +master's name she was calling _him_! + +"_Kazan_--_Kazan_--" + +He leaped again, and was thrown upon his back. A second and a third +time he sprang the length of the leash into the night, and the babiche +cord about his neck cut into his flesh like a knife. He stopped for an +instant, gasping for breath. The shadows were still fighting. Now they +were upright! Now they were crumpling down! With a fierce snarl he flung +his whole weight once more at the end of the chain. There was a snap, as +the thong about his neck gave way. + +In half a dozen bounds Kazan made the tent and rushed under the flap. +With a snarl he was at McCready's throat. The first snap of his powerful +jaws was death, but he did not know that. He knew only that his mistress +was there, and that he was fighting for her. There came one choking +gasping cry that ended with a terrible sob; it was McCready. The man +sank from his knees upon his back, and Kazan thrust his fangs deeper +into his enemy's throat; he felt the warm blood. + +The dog's mistress was calling to him now. She was pulling at his shaggy +neck. But he would not loose his hold--not for a long time. When he did, +his mistress looked down once upon the man and covered her face with +her hands. Then she sank down upon the blankets. She was very still. Her +face and hands were cold, and Kazan muzzled them tenderly. Her eyes were +closed. He snuggled up close against her, with his ready jaws turned +toward the dead man. Why was she so still, he wondered? + +A long time passed, and then she moved. Her eyes opened. Her hand +touched him. + +Then he heard a step outside. + +It was his master, and with that old thrill of fear--fear of the +club--he went swiftly to the door. Yes, there was his master in the +firelight--and in his hand he held the club. He was coming slowly, +almost falling at each step, and his face was red with blood. But he had +_the club_! He would beat him again--beat him terribly for hurting +McCready; so Kazan slipped quietly under the tent-flap and stole off +into the shadows. From out the gloom of the thick spruce he looked back, +and a low whine of love and grief rose and died softly in his throat. +They would beat him always now--after _that_. Even _she_ would beat him. +They would hunt him down, and beat him when they found him. + +From out of the glow of the fire he turned his wolfish head to the +depths of the forest. There were no clubs or stinging lashes out in that +gloom. They would never find him there. + +For another moment he wavered. And then, as silently as one of the wild +creatures whose blood was partly his, he stole away into the blackness +of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FREE FROM BONDS + + +There was a low moaning of the wind in the spruce-tops as Kazan slunk +off into the blackness and mystery of the forest. For hours he lay near +the camp, his red and blistered eyes gazing steadily at the tent wherein +the terrible thing had happened a little while before. + +He knew now what death was. He could tell it farther than man. He could +smell it in the air. And he knew that there was death all about him, and +that he was the cause of it. He lay on his belly in the deep snow and +shivered, and the three-quarters of him that was dog whined in a +grief-stricken way, while the quarter that was wolf still revealed +itself menacingly in his fangs, and in the vengeful glare of his eyes. + +Three times the man--his master--came out of the tent, and shouted +loudly, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" + +Three times the woman came with him. In the firelight Kazan could see +her shining hair streaming about her, as he had seen it in the tent, +when he had leaped up and killed the other man. In her blue eyes there +was the same wild terror, and her face was white as the snow. And the +second and third time, she too called, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!"--and all +that part of him that was dog, and not wolf, trembled joyously at the +sound of her voice, and he almost crept in to take his beating. But fear +of the club was the greater, and he held back, hour after hour, until +now it was silent again in the tent, and he could no longer see their +shadows, and the fire was dying down. + +Cautiously he crept out from the thick gloom, working his way on his +belly toward the packed sledge, and what remained of the burned logs. +Beyond that sledge, hidden in the darkness of the trees, was the body of +the man he had killed, covered with a blanket. Thorpe, his master, had +dragged it there. + +He lay down, with his nose to the warm coals and his eyes leveled +between his forepaws, straight at the closed tent-flap. He meant to +keep awake, to watch, to be ready to slink off into the forest at the +first movement there. But a warmth was rising from out of the gray ash +of the fire-bed, and his eyes closed. Twice--three times--he fought +himself back into watchfulness; but the last time his eyes came only +half open, and closed heavily again. + +And now, in his sleep, he whined softly, and the splendid muscles of his +legs and shoulders twitched, and sudden shuddering ripples ran along his +tawny spine. Thorpe, who was in the tent, if he had seen him, would have +known that he was dreaming. And Thorpe's wife, whose golden head lay +close against his breast, and who shuddered and trembled now and then +even as Kazan was doing, would have known what he was dreaming about. + +In his sleep he was leaping again at the end of his chain. His jaws +snapped like castanets of steel,--and the sound awakened him, and he +sprang to his feet, his spine as stiff as a brush, and his snarling +fangs bared like ivory knives. He had awakened just in time. There was +movement in the tent. His master was awake, and if he did not escape-- + +He sped swiftly into the thick spruce, and paused, flat and hidden, with +only his head showing from behind a tree. He knew that his master would +not spare him. Three times Thorpe had beaten him for snapping at +McCready. The last time he would have shot him if the girl had not saved +him. And now he had torn McCready's throat. He had taken the life from +him, and his master would not spare him. Even the woman could not save +him. + +Kazan was sorry that his master had returned, dazed and bleeding, after +he had torn McCready's jugular. Then he would have had her always. She +would have loved him. She did love him. And he would have followed her, +and fought for her always, and died for her when the time came. But +Thorpe had come in from the forest again, and Kazan had slunk away +quickly--for Thorpe meant to him what all men meant to him now: the +club, the whip and the strange things that spat fire and death. And +now-- + +Thorpe had come out from the tent. It was approaching dawn, and in his +hand he held a rifle. A moment later the girl came out, and her hand +caught the man's arm. They looked toward the thing covered by the +blanket. Then she spoke to Thorpe and he suddenly straightened and +threw back his head. + +"H-o-o-o-o--Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" he called. + +A shiver ran through Kazan. The man was trying to inveigle him back. He +had in his hand the thing that killed. + +"Kazan--Kazan--Ka-a-a-a-zan!" he shouted again. + +Kazan sneaked cautiously back from the tree. He knew that distance meant +nothing to the cold thing of death that Thorpe held in his hand. He +turned his head once, and whined softly, and for an instant a great +longing filled his reddened eyes as he saw the last of the girl. + +He knew, now, that he was leaving her forever, and there was an ache in +his heart that had never been there before, a pain that was not of the +club or whip, of cold or hunger, but which was greater than them all, +and which filled him with a desire to throw back his head and cry out +his loneliness to the gray emptiness of the sky. + +Back in the camp the girl's voice quivered. + +"He is gone." + +The man's strong voice choked a little. + +"Yes, he is gone. _He knew_--and I didn't. I'd give--a year of my +life--if I hadn't whipped him yesterday and last night. He won't come +back." + +Isobel Thorpe's hand tightened on his arm. + +"He will!" she cried. "He won't leave me. He loved me, if he was savage +and terrible. And he knows that I love him. He'll come back--" + +"Listen!" + +From deep in the forest there came a long wailing howl, filled with a +plaintive sadness. It was Kazan's farewell to the woman. + +After that cry Kazan sat for a long time on his haunches, sniffing the +new freedom of the air, and watching the deep black pits in the forest +about him, as they faded away before dawn. 'Now and then, since the day +the traders had first bought him and put him into sledge-traces away +over on the Mackenzie, he had often thought of this freedom longingly, +the wolf blood in him urging him to take it. But he had never quite +dared. It thrilled him now. There were no clubs here, no whips, none of +the man-beasts whom he had first learned to distrust, and then to hate. +It was his misfortune--that quarter-strain of wolf; and the clubs, +instead of subduing him, had added to the savagery that was born in him. +Men had been his worst enemies. They had beaten him time and again until +he was almost dead. They called him "bad," and stepped wide of him, and +never missed the chance to snap a whip over his back. His body was +covered with scars they had given him. + +He had never felt kindness, or love, until the first night the woman had +put her warm little hand on his head, and had snuggled her face close +down to his, while Thorpe--her husband--had cried out in horror. He had +almost buried his fangs in her white flesh, but in an instant her gentle +touch, and her sweet voice, had sent through him that wonderful thrill +that was his first knowledge of love. And now it was a man who was +driving him from her, away from the hand that had never held a club or a +whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper into the forest. + +He came to the edge of a swamp as day broke. For a time he had been +filled with a strange uneasiness, and light did not quite dispel it. At +last he was free of men. He could detect nothing that reminded him of +their hated presence in the air. But neither could he smell the presence +of other dogs, of the sledge, the fire, of companionship and food, and +so far back as he could remember they had always been a part of his +life. + +Here it was very quiet. The swamp lay in a hollow between two +ridge-mountains, and the spruce and cedar grew low and thick--so thick +that there was almost no snow under them, and day was like twilight. Two +things he began to miss more than all others--food and company. Both the +wolf and the dog that was in him demanded the first, and that part of +him that was dog longed for the latter. To both desires the wolf blood +that was strong in him rose responsively. It told him that somewhere in +this silent world between the two ridges there was companionship, and +that all he had to do to find it was to sit back on his haunches, and +cry out his loneliness. More than once something trembled in his deep +chest, rose in his throat, and ended there in a whine. It was the wolf +howl, not yet quite born. + +Food came more easily than voice. Toward midday he cornered a big white +rabbit under a log, and killed it. The warm flesh and blood was better +than frozen fish, or tallow and bran, and the feast he had gave him +confidence. That afternoon he chased many rabbits, and killed two more. +Until now, he had never known the delight of pursuing and killing at +will, even though he did not eat all he killed. + +But there was no fight in the rabbits. They died too easily. They were +very sweet and tender to eat, when he was hungry, but the first thrill +of killing them passed away after a time. He wanted something bigger. He +no longer slunk along as if he were afraid, or as if he wanted to remain +hidden. He held his head up. His back bristled. His tail swung free and +bushy, like a wolf's. Every hair in his body quivered with the electric +energy of life and action. He traveled north and west. It was the call +of early days--the days away up on the Mackenzie. The Mackenzie was a +thousand miles away. + +He came upon many trails in the snow that day, and sniffed the scents +left by the hoofs of moose and caribou, and the fur-padded feet of a +lynx. He followed a fox, and the trail led him to a place shut in by +tall spruce, where the snow was beaten down and reddened with blood. +There was an owl's head, feathers, wings and entrails lying here, and he +knew that there were other hunters abroad besides himself. + +Toward evening he came upon tracks in the snow that were very much like +his own. They were quite fresh, and there was a warm scent about them +that made him whine, and filled him again with that desire to fall back +upon his haunches and send forth the wolf-cry. This desire grew stronger +in him as the shadows of night deepened in the forest. He had traveled +all day, but he was not tired. There was something about night, now that +there were no men near, that exhilarated him strangely. The wolf blood +in him ran swifter and swifter. To-night it was clear. The sky was +filled with stars. The moon rose. And at last he settled back in the +snow and turned his head straight up to the spruce-tops, and the wolf +came out of him in a long mournful cry which quivered through the still +night for miles. + +For a long time he sat and listened after that howl. He had found +voice--a voice with a strange new note in it, and it gave him still +greater confidence. He had expected an answer, but none came. He had +traveled in the face of the wind, and as he howled, a bull moose crashed +through the scrub timber ahead of him, his horns rattling against the +trees like the tattoo of a clear birch club as he put distance between +himself and that cry. + +Twice Kazan howled before he went on, and he found joy in the practise +of that new note. He came then to the foot of a rough ridge, and turned +up out of the swamp to the top of it. The stars and the moon were nearer +to him there, and on the other side of the ridge he looked down upon a +great sweeping plain, with a frozen lake glistening in the moonlight, +and a white river leading from it off into timber that was neither so +thick nor so black as that in the swamp. + +And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped. From +far off in the plain there came a cry. It was _his_ cry--the wolf-cry. +His jaws snapped. His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his +throat. He wanted to reply, but some strange instinct urged him not to. +That instinct of the wild was already becoming master of him. In the +air, in the whispering of the spruce-tops, in the moon and the stars +themselves, there breathed a spirit which told him that what he had +heard was the wolf-cry, but that it was not the wolf _call_. + +The other came an hour later, clear and distinct, that same wailing howl +at the beginning--but ending in a staccato of quick sharp yelps that +stirred his blood at once into a fiery excitement that it had never +known before. The same instinct told him that this was the call--the +hunt-cry. It urged him to come quickly. A few moments later it came +again, and this time there was a reply from close down along the foot of +the ridge, and another from so far away that Kazan could scarcely hear +it. The hunt-pack was gathering for the night chase; but Kazan sat quiet +and trembling. + +He was not afraid, but he was not ready to go. The ridge seemed to split +the world for him. Down there it was new, and strange, and without men. +From the other side something seemed pulling him back, and suddenly he +turned his head and gazed back through the moonlit space behind him, and +whined. It was the dog-whine now. The woman was back there. He could +hear her voice. He could feel the touch of her soft hand. He could see +the laughter in her face and eyes, the laughter that had made him warm +and happy. She was calling to him through the forests, and he was torn +between desire to answer that call, and desire to go down into the +plain. For he could also see many men waiting for him with clubs, and he +could hear the cracking of whips, and feel the sting of their lashes. + +For a long time he remained on the top of the ridge that divided his +world. And then, at last, he turned and went down into the plain. + +All that night he kept close to the hunt-pack, but never quite +approached it. This was fortunate for him. He still bore the scent of +traces, and of man. The pack would have torn him into pieces. The first +instinct of the wild is that of self-preservation. It may have been +this, a whisper back through the years of savage forebears, that made +Kazan roll in the snow now and then where the feet of the pack had trod +the thickest. + +That night the pack killed a caribou on the edge of the lake, and +feasted until nearly dawn. Kazan hung in the face of the wind. The smell +of blood and of warm flesh tickled his nostrils, and his sharp ears +could catch the cracking of bones. But the instinct was stronger than +the temptation. + +Not until broad day, when the pack had scattered far and wide over the +plain, did he go boldly to the scene of the kill. He found nothing but +an area of blood-reddened snow, covered with bones, entrails and torn +bits of tough hide. But it was enough, and he rolled in it, and buried +his nose in what was left, and remained all that day close to it, +saturating himself with the scent of it. + +That night, when the moon and the stars came out again, he sat back with +fear and hesitation no longer in him, and announced himself to his new +comrades of the great plain. + +The pack hunted again that night, or else it was a new pack that started +miles to the south, and came up with a doe caribou to the big frozen +lake. The night was almost as clear as day, and from the edge of the +forest Kazan first saw the caribou run out on the lake a third of a mile +away. The pack was about a dozen strong, and had already split into the +fatal horseshoe formation, the two leaders running almost abreast of the +kill, and slowly closing in. + +With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out into the moonlight. He was directly +in the path of the fleeing doe, and bore down upon her with lightning +speed. Two hundred yards away the doe saw him, and swerved to the right, +and the leader on that side met her with open jaws. Kazan was in with +the second leader, and leaped at the doe's soft throat. In a snarling +mass the pack closed in from behind, and the doe went down, with Kazan +half under her body, his fangs sunk deep in her jugular. She lay heavily +on him, but he did not lose his hold. It was his first big kill. His +blood ran like fire. He snarled between his clamped teeth. + +Not until the last quiver had left the body over him did he pull himself +out from under her chest and forelegs. He had killed a rabbit that day +and was not hungry. So he sat back in the snow and waited, while the +ravenous pack tore at the dead doe. After a little he came nearer, nosed +in between two of them, and was nipped for his intrusion. + +As Kazan drew back, still hesitating to mix with his wild brothers, a +big gray form leaped out of the pack and drove straight for his throat. +He had just time to throw his shoulder to the attack, and for a moment +the two rolled over and over in the snow. They were up before the +excitement of sudden battle had drawn the pack from the feast. Slowly +they circled about each other, their white fangs bare, their yellowish +backs bristling like brushes. The fatal ring of wolves drew about the +fighters. + +It was not new to Kazan. A dozen times he had sat in rings like this, +waiting for the final moment. More than once he had fought for his life +within the circle. It was the sledge-dog way of fighting. Unless man +interrupted with a club or a whip it always ended in death. Only one +fighter could come out alive. Sometimes both died. And there was no man +here--only that fatal cordon of waiting white-fanged demons, ready to +leap upon and tear to pieces the first of the fighters who was thrown +upon his side or back. Kazan was a stranger, but he did not fear those +that hemmed him in. The one great law of the pack would compel them to +be fair. + +He kept his eyes only on the big gray leader who had challenged him. +Shoulder to shoulder they continued to circle. Where a few moments +before there had been the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh +there was now silence. Soft-footed and soft-throated mongrel dogs from +the South would have snarled and growled, but Kazan and the wolf were +still, their ears laid forward instead of back, their tails free and +bushy. + +Suddenly the wolf struck in with the swiftness of lightning, and his +jaws came together with the sharpness of steel striking steel. They +missed by an inch. In that same instant Kazan darted in to the side, and +like knives his teeth gashed the wolf's flank. + +They circled again, their eyes growing redder, their lips drawn back +until they seemed to have disappeared. And then Kazan leaped for that +death-grip at the throat--and missed. It was only by an inch again, and +the wolf came back, as he had done, and laid open Kazan's flank so that +the blood ran down his leg and reddened the snow. The burn of that +flank-wound told Kazan that his enemy was old in the game of fighting. +He crouched low, his head straight out, and his throat close to the +snow. It was a trick Kazan had learned in puppyhood--to shield his +throat, and wait. + +Twice the wolf circled about him, and Kazan pivoted slowly, his eyes +half closed. A second time the wolf leaped, and Kazan threw up his +terrible jaws, sure of that fatal grip just in front of the forelegs. +His teeth snapped on empty air. With the nimbleness of a cat the wolf +had gone completely over his back. + +The trick had failed, and with a rumble of the dog-snarl in his throat, +Kazan reached the wolf in a single bound. They met breast to breast. +Their fangs clashed and with the whole weight of his body, Kazan flung +himself against the wolf's shoulders, cleared his jaws, and struck again +for the throat hold. It was another miss--by a hair's breadth--and +before he could recover, the wolf's teeth were buried in the back of +his neck. + +For the first time in his life Kazan felt the terror and the pain of the +death-grip, and with a mighty effort he flung his head a little forward +and snapped blindly. His powerful jaws closed on the wolf's foreleg, +close to the body. There was a cracking of bone and a crunching of +flesh, and the circle of waiting wolves grew tense and alert. One or the +other of the fighters was sure to go down before the holds were broken, +and they but awaited that fatal fall as a signal to leap in to the +death. + +Only the thickness of hair and hide on the back of Kazan's neck, and the +toughness of his muscles, saved him from that terrible fate of the +vanquished. The wolf's teeth sank deep, but not deep enough to reach the +vital spot, and suddenly Kazan put every ounce of strength in his limbs +to the effort, and flung himself up bodily from under his antagonist. +The grip on his neck relaxed, and with another rearing leap he tore +himself free. + +As swift as a whip-lash he whirled on the broken-legged leader of the +pack and with the full rush and weight of his shoulders struck him +fairly in the side. More deadly than the throat-grip had Kazan sometimes +found the lunge when delivered at the right moment. It was deadly now. +The big gray wolf lost his feet, rolled upon his back for an instant, +and the pack rushed in, eager to rend the last of life from the leader +whose power had ceased to exist. + +From out of that gray, snarling, bloody-lipped mass, Kazan drew back, +panting and bleeding. He was weak. There was a curious sickness in his +head. He wanted to lie down in the snow. But the old and infallible +instinct warned him not to betray that weakness. From out of the pack a +slim, lithe, gray she-wolf came up to him, and lay down in the snow +before him, and then rose swiftly and sniffed at his wounds. + +She was young and strong and beautiful, but Kazan did not look at her. +Where the fight had been he was looking, at what little remained of the +old leader. The pack had returned to the feast. He heard again the +cracking of bones and the rending of flesh, and something told him that +hereafter all the wilderness would hear and recognize his voice, and +that when he sat back on his haunches and called to the moon and the +stars, those swift-footed hunters of the big plain would respond to it. +He circled twice about the caribou and the pack, and then trotted off to +the edge of the black spruce forest. + +When he reached the shadows he looked back. Gray Wolf was following him. +She was only a few yards behind. And now she came up to him, a little +timidly, and she, too, looked back to the dark blotch of life out on the +lake. And as she stood there close beside him, Kazan sniffed at +something in the air that was not the scent of blood, nor the perfume of +the balsam and spruce. It was a thing that seemed to come to him from +the clear stars, the cloudless moon, the strange and beautiful quiet of +the night itself. And its presence seemed to be a part of Gray Wolf. + +He looked at her, and he found Gray Wolf's eyes alert and questioning. +She was young--so young that she seemed scarcely to have passed out of +puppyhood. Her body was strong and slim and beautifully shaped. In the +moonlight the hair under her throat and along her back shone sleek and +soft. She whined at the red staring light in Kazan's eyes, and it was +not a puppy's whimper. Kazan moved toward her, and stood with his head +over her back, facing the pack. He felt her trembling against his chest. +He looked at the moon and the stars again, the mystery of Gray Wolf and +of the night throbbing in his blood. + +Not much of his life had been spent at the posts. Most of it had been on +the trail--in the traces--and the spirit of the mating season had only +stirred him from afar. But it was very near now. Gray Wolf lifted her +head. Her soft muzzle touched the wound on his neck, and in the +gentleness of that touch, in the low sound in her throat, Kazan felt and +heard again that wonderful something that had come with the caress of +the woman's hand and the sound of her voice. + +He turned, whining, his back bristling, his head high and defiant of the +wilderness which he faced. Gray Wolf trotted close at his side as they +entered into the gloom of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + +They found shelter that night under thick balsam, and when they lay down +on the soft carpet of needles which the snow had not covered, Gray Wolf +snuggled her warm body close to Kazan and licked his wounds. The day +broke with a velvety fall of snow, so white and thick that they could +not see a dozen leaps ahead of them in the open. It was quite warm, and +so still that the whole world seemed filled with only the flutter and +whisper of the snowflakes. Through this day Kazan and Gray Wolf traveled +side by side. Time and again he turned his head back to the ridge over +which he had come, and Gray Wolf could not understand the strange note +that trembled in his throat. + +In the afternoon they returned to what was left of the caribou doe on +the lake. In the edge of the forest Gray Wolf hung back. She did not yet +know the meaning of poison-baits, deadfalls and traps, but the instinct +of numberless generations was in her veins, and it told her there was +danger in visiting a second time a thing that had grown cold in death. + +Kazan had seen masters work about carcasses that the wolves had left. He +had seen them conceal traps cleverly, and roll little capsules of +strychnine in the fat of the entrails, and once he had put a foreleg in +a trap, and had experienced its sting and pain and deadly grip. But he +did not have Gray Wolf's fear. He urged her to accompany him to the +white hummocks on the ice, and at last she went with him and sank back +restlessly on her haunches, while he dug out the bones and pieces of +flesh that the snow had kept from freezing. But she would not eat, and +at last Kazan went and sat on his haunches at her side, and with her +looked at what he had dug out from under the snow. He sniffed the air. +He could not smell danger, but Gray Wolf told him that it might be +there. + +She told him many other things in the days and nights that followed. The +third night Kazan himself gathered the hunt-pack and led in the chase. +Three times that month, before the moon left the skies, he led the +chase, and each time there was a kill. But as the snows began to grow +softer under his feet he found a greater and greater companionship in +Gray Wolf, and they hunted alone, living on the big white rabbits. In +all the world he had loved but two things, the girl with the shining +hair and the hands that had caressed him--and Gray Wolf. + +He did not leave the big plain, and often He took his mate to the top of +the ridge, and he would try to tell her what he had left back there. +With the dark nights the call of the woman became so strong upon him +that he was filled with a longing to go back, and take Gray Wolf with +him. + +Something happened very soon after that. They were crossing the open +plain one day when up on the face of the ridge Kazan saw something that +made his heart stand still. A man, with a dog-sledge and team, was +coming down into their world. The wind had not warned them, and suddenly +Kazan saw something glisten in the man's hands. He knew what it was. It +was the thing that spat fire and thunder, and killed. + +He gave his warning to Gray Wolf, and they were off like the wind, side +by side. And then came the _sound_--and Kazan's hatred of men burst +forth in a snarl as he leaped. There was a queer humming over their +heads. The sound from behind came again, and this time Gray Wolf gave a +yelp of pain, and rolled over and over in the snow. She was on her feet +again in an instant, and Kazan dropped behind her, and ran there until +they reached the shelter of the timber. Gray Wolf lay down, and began +licking the wound in her shoulder. Kazan faced the ridge. The man was +taking up their trail. He stopped where Gray Wolf had fallen, and +examined the snow. Then he came on. + +Kazan urged Gray Wolf to her feet, and they made for the thick swamp +close to the lake. All that day they kept in the face of the wind, and +when Gray Wolf lay down Kazan stole back over their trail, watching and +sniffing the air. + +For days after that Gray Wolf ran lame, and when once they came upon the +remains of an old camp, Kazan's teeth were bared in snarling hatred of +the man-scent that had been left behind. Growing in him there was a +desire for vengeance--vengeance for his own hurts, and for Gray Wolf's. +He tried to nose out the man-trail under the cover of fresh snow, and +Gray Wolf circled around him anxiously, and tried to lure him deeper +into the forest. At last he followed her sullenly. There was a savage +redness in his eyes. + +Three days later the new moon came. And on the fifth night Kazan struck +a trail. It was fresh--so fresh that he stopped as suddenly as though +struck by a bullet when he ran upon it, and stood with every muscle in +his body quivering, and his hair on end. It was a man-trail. There were +the marks of the sledge, the dogs' feet, and the snow-shoeprints of his +enemy. + +Then he threw up his head to the stars, and from his throat there rolled +out over the wide plains the hunt-cry--the wild and savage call for the +pack. Never had he put the savagery in it that was there to-night. Again +and again he sent forth that call, and then there came an answer and +another and still another, until Gray Wolf herself sat back on her +haunches and added her voice to Kazan's, and far out on the plain a +white and haggard-faced man halted his exhausted dogs to listen, while a +voice said faintly from the sledge: + +"The wolves, father. Are they coming--after us?" + +The man was silent. He was not young. The moon shone in his long white +beard, and added grotesquely to the height of his tall gaunt figure. A +girl had raised her head from a bearskin pillow on the sleigh. Her dark +eyes were filled beautifully with the starlight. She was pale. Her hair +fell in a thick shining braid over her shoulder, and she was hugging +something tightly to her breast. + +"They're on the trail of something--probably a deer," said the man, +looking at the breech of his rifle. "Don't worry, Jo. We'll stop at the +next bit of scrub and see if we can't find enough dry stuff for a +fire.--Wee-ah-h-h-h, boys! Koosh--koosh--" and he snapped his whip over +the backs of his team. + +From the bundle at the girl's breast there came a small wailing cry. And +far back in the plain there answered it the scattered voice of the pack. + +At last Kazan was on the trail of vengeance. He ran slowly at first, +with Gray Wolf close beside him, pausing every three or four hundred +yards to send forth the cry. A gray leaping form joined them from +behind. Another followed. Two came in from the side, and Kazan's +solitary howl gave place to the wild tongue of the pack. Numbers +grew, and with increasing number the pace became swifter. +Four--six--seven--ten--fourteen, by the time the more open and +wind-swept part of the plain was reached. + +It was a strong pack, filled with old and fearless hunters. Gray Wolf +was the youngest, and she kept close to Kazan's shoulders. She could see +nothing of his red-shot eyes and dripping jaws, and would not have +understood if she had seen. But she could _feel_ and she was thrilled by +the spirit of that strange and mysterious savagery that had made Kazan +forget all things but hurt and death. + +The pack made no sound. There was only the panting of breath and the +soft fall of many feet. They ran swiftly and close. And always Kazan was +a leap ahead, with Gray Wolf nosing his shoulder. + +Never had he wanted to kill as he felt the desire in him to kill now. +For the first time he had no fear of man, no fear of the club, of the +whip, or of the thing that blazed forth fire and death. He ran more +swiftly, in order to overtake them and give them battle sooner. All of +the pent-up madness of four years of slavery and abuse at the hands of +men broke loose in thin red streams of fire in his veins, and when at +last he saw a moving blotch far out on the plain ahead of him, the cry +that came out of his throat was one that Gray Wolf did not understand. + +Three hundred yards beyond that moving blotch was the thin line of +timber, and Kazan and his followers bore down swiftly. Half-way to the +timber they were almost upon it, and suddenly it stopped and became a +black and motionless shadow on the snow. From out of it there leaped +that lightning tongue of flame that Kazan had always dreaded, and he +heard the hissing song of the death-bee over his head. He did not mind +it now. He yelped sharply, and the wolves raced in until four of them +were neck-and-neck with him. + +A second flash--and the death-bee drove from breast to tail of a huge +gray fighter close to Gray Wolf. A third--a fourth--a fifth spurt of +that fire from the black shadow, and Kazan himself felt a sudden swift +passing of a red-hot thing along his shoulder, where the man's last +bullet shaved off the hair and stung his flesh. + +Three of the pack had gone down under the fire of the rifle, and half of +the others were swinging to the right and the left. But Kazan drove +straight ahead. Faithfully Gray Wolf followed him. + +The sledge-dogs had been freed from their traces, and before he could +reach the man, whom he saw with his rifle held like a club in his hands, +Kazan was met by the fighting mass of them. He fought like a fiend, and +there was the strength and the fierceness of two mates in the mad +gnashing of Gray Wolf's fangs. Two of the wolves rushed in, and Kazan +heard the terrific, back-breaking thud of the rifle. To him it was the +_club_. He wanted to reach it. He wanted to reach the man who held it, +and he freed himself from the fighting mass of the dogs and sprang to +the sledge. For the first time he saw that there was something human on +the sledge, and in an instant he was upon it. He buried his jaws deep. +They sank in something soft and hairy, and he opened them for another +lunge. And then he heard the voice! It was _her voice_! Every muscle in +his body stood still. He became suddenly like flesh turned to lifeless +stone. + +_Her voice_! The bear rug was thrown back and what had been hidden under +it he saw clearly now in the light of the moon and the stars. In him +instinct worked more swiftly than human brain could have given birth to +reason. It was not _she_. But the voice was the same, and the white +girlish face so close to his own blood-reddened eyes held in it that +same mystery that he had learned to love. And he saw now that which she +was clutching to her breast, and there came from it a strange thrilling +cry--and he knew that here on the sledge he had found not enmity and +death, but that from which he had been driven away in the other world +beyond the ridge. + +In a flash he turned. He snapped at Gray Wolf's flank, and she dropped +away with a startled yelp. It had all happened in a moment, but the man +was almost down. Kazan leaped under his clubbed rifle and drove into the +face of what was left of the pack. His fangs cut like knives. If he had +fought like a demon against the dogs, he fought like ten demons now, and +the man--bleeding and ready to fall--staggered back to the sledge, +marveling at what was happening. For in Gray Wolf there was now the +instinct of matehood, and seeing Kazan tearing and righting the pack she +joined him in the struggle which she could not understand. + +When it was over, Kazan and Gray Wolf were alone out on the plain. The +pack had slunk away into the night, and the same moon and stars that had +given to Kazan the first knowledge of his birthright told him now that +no longer would those wild brothers of the plains respond to his call +when he howled into the sky. + +He was hurt. And Gray Wolf was hurt, but not so badly as Kazan. He was +torn and bleeding. One of his legs was terribly bitten. After a time he +saw a fire in the edge of the forest. The old call was strong upon him. +He wanted to crawl in to it, and feel the girl's hand on his head, as +he had felt that other hand in the world beyond the ridge. He would have +gone--and would have urged Gray Wolf to go with him--but the man was +there. He whined, and Gray Wolf thrust her warm muzzle against his neck. +Something told them both that they were outcasts, that the plains, and +the moon, and the stars were against them now, and they slunk into the +shelter and the gloom of the forest. + +Kazan could not go far. He could still smell the camp when he lay down. +Gray Wolf snuggled close to him. Gently she soothed with her soft tongue +Kazan's bleeding wounds. And Kazan, lifting his head, whined softly to +the stars. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOAN + + +On the edge of the cedar and spruce forest old Pierre Radisson built the +fire. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds, where the fangs of the wolves +had reached to his flesh, and he felt in his breast that old and +terrible pain, of which no one knew the meaning but himself. He dragged +in log after log, piled them on the fire until the flames leaped tip to +the crisping needles of the limbs above, and heaped a supply close at +hand for use later in the night. + +From the sledge Joan watched him, still wild-eyed and fearful, still +trembling. She was holding her baby close to her breast. Her long heavy +hair smothered her shoulders and arms in a dark lustrous veil that +glistened and rippled in the firelight when she moved. Her young face +was scarcely a woman's to-night, though she was a mother. She looked +like a child. + +Old Pierre laughed as he threw down the last armful of fuel, and stood +breathing hard. + +"It was close, _ma cheri_" he panted through his white beard. "We were +nearer to death out there on the plain than we will ever be again, I +hope. But we are comfortable now, and warm. Eh? You are no longer +afraid?" + +He sat down beside his daughter, and gently pulled back the soft fur +that enveloped the bundle she held in her arms. He could see one pink +cheek of baby Joan. The eyes of Joan, the mother, were like stars. + +"It was the baby who saved us," she whispered. "The dogs were being torn +to pieces by the wolves, and I saw them leaping upon you, when one of +them sprang to the sledge. At first I thought it was one of the dogs. +But it was a wolf. He tore once at us, and the bearskin saved us. He was +almost at my throat when baby cried, and then he stood there, his red +eyes a foot from us, and I could have sworn again that he was a dog. In +an instant he turned, and was fighting the wolves. I saw him leap upon +one that was almost at your throat." + +"He _was_ a dog," said old Pierre, holding out his hands to the warmth. +"They often wander away from the posts, and join the wolves. I have had +dogs do that. _Ma cheri_, a dog is a dog all his life. Kicks, abuse, +even the wolves can not change him--for long. He was one of the pack. He +came with them--to kill. But when he found _us_--" + +"He fought for us," breathed the girl. She gave him the bundle, and +stood up, straight and tall and slim in the firelight. "He fought for +us--and he was terribly hurt," she said. "I saw him drag himself away. +Father, if he is out there--dying--" + +Pierre Radisson stood up. He coughed in a shuddering way, trying to +stifle the sound under his beard. The fleck of crimson that came to his +lips with the cough Joan did not see. She had seen nothing of it during +the six days they had been traveling up from the edge of civilization. +Because of that cough, and the stain that came with it, Pierre had made +more than ordinary haste. + +"I have been thinking of that," he said. "He was badly hurt, and I do +not think he went far. Here--take little Joan and sit close to the fire +until I come back." + +The moon and the stars were brilliant in the sky when he went out in the +plain. A short distance from the edge of the timber-line he stood for a +moment upon the spot where the wolves had overtaken them an hour before. +Not one of his four dogs had lived. The snow was red with their blood, +and their bodies lay stiff where they had fallen under the pack. Pierre +shuddered as he looked at them. If the wolves had not turned their first +mad attack upon the dogs, what would have become of himself, Joan and +the baby? He turned away, with another of those hollow coughs that +brought the blood to his lips. + +A few yards to one side he found in the snow the trail of the strange +dog that had come with the wolves, and had turned against them in that +moment when all seemed lost. It was not a clean running trail. It was +more of a furrow in the snow, and Pierre Radisson followed it, expecting +to find the dog dead at the end of it. + +In the sheltered spot to which he had dragged himself in the edge of the +forest Kazan lay for a long time after the fight, alert and watchful. +He felt no very great pain. But he had lost the power to stand upon his +legs. His flanks seemed paralyzed. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, +sniffing the air. They could smell the camp, and Kazan could detect the +two things that were there--_man_ and _woman_. He knew that the girl was +there, where he could see the glow of the firelight through the spruce +and the cedars. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to drag himself close +in to the fire, and take Gray Wolf with him, and listen to her voice, +and feel the touch of her hand. But the man was there, and to him man +had always meant the club, the whip, pain, death. + +Gray Wolf crouched close to his side, and whined softly as she urged +Kazan to flee deeper with her into the forest. At last she understood +that he could not move, and she ran nervously out into the plain, and +back again, until her footprints were thick in the trail she made. The +instincts of matehood were strong in her. It was she who first saw +Pierre Radisson coming over their trail, and she ran swiftly back to +Kazan and gave the warning. + +Then Kazan caught the scent, and he saw the shadowy figure coming +through the starlight. He tried to drag himself back, but he could move +only by inches. The man came rapidly nearer. Kazan caught the glisten of +the rifle in his hand. He heard his hollow cough, and the tread of his +feet in the snow. Gray Wolf crouched shoulder to shoulder with him, +trembling and showing her teeth. When Pierre had approached within fifty +feet of them she slunk back into the deeper shadows of the spruce. + +Kazan's fangs were bared menacingly when Pierre stopped and looked down +at him. With an effort he dragged himself to his feet, but fell back +into the snow again. The man leaned his rifle against a sapling and bent +over him fearlessly. With a fierce growl Kazan snapped at his extended +hands. To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club. He +held out his hand again--cautiously--and spoke in a voice new to Kazan. +The dog snapped again, and growled. + +The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened +hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it. +Again and again the man reached out his hand, and three times Kazan felt +the touch of it, and there was neither threat nor hurt in it. At last +Pierre turned away and went back over the trail. + +When he was out of sight and hearing, Kazan whined, and the crest along +his spine flattened. He looked wistfully toward the glow of the fire. +The man had not hurt him, and the three-quarters of him that was dog +wanted to follow. + +Gray Wolf came back, and stood with stiffly planted forefeet at his +side. She had never been this near to man before, except when the pack +had overtaken the sledge out on the plain. She could not understand. +Every instinct that was in her warned her that he was the most dangerous +of all things, more to be feared than the strongest beasts, the storms, +the floods, cold and starvation. And yet this man had not harmed her +mate. She sniffed at Kazan's back and head, where the mittened hand had +touched. Then she trotted back into the darkness again, for beyond the +edge of the forest she once more saw moving life. + +The man was returning, and with him was the girl. Her voice was soft +and sweet, and there was about her the breath and sweetness of woman. +The man stood prepared, but not threatening. + +"Be careful, Joan," he warned. + +She dropped on her knees in the snow, just out of reach. + +"Come, boy--come!" she said gently. She held out her hand. Kazan's +muscles twitched. He moved an inch--two inches toward her. There was the +old light in her eyes and face now, the love and gentleness he had known +once before, when another woman with shining hair and eyes had come into +his life. "Come!" she whispered as she saw him move, and she bent a +little, reached a little farther with her hand, and at last touched his +head. + +Pierre knelt beside her. He was proffering something, and Kazan smelled +meat. But it was the girl's hand that made him tremble and shiver, and +when she drew back, urging him to follow her, he dragged himself +painfully a foot or two through the snow. Not until then did the girl +see his mangled leg. In an instant she had forgotten all caution, and +was down close at his side. + +"He can't walk," she cried, a sudden tremble in her voice. "Look, _mon +pere!_ Here is a terrible cut. We must carry him." + +"I guessed that much," replied Radisson. "For that reason I brought the +blanket. _Mon Dieu_, listen to that!" + +From the darkness of the forest there came a low wailing cry. + +Kazan lifted his head and a trembling whine answered in his throat. It +was Gray Wolf calling to him. + +It was a miracle that Pierre Radisson should put the blanket about +Kazan, and carry him in to the camp, without scratch or bite. It was +this miracle that he achieved, with Joan's arm resting on Kazan's shaggy +neck as she held one end of the blanket. They laid him down close to the +fire, and after a little it was the man again who brought warm water and +washed away the blood from the torn leg, and then put something on it +that was soft and warm and soothing, and finally bound a cloth about it. + +All this Was strange and new to Kazan. Pierre's hand, as well as the +girl's, stroked his head. It was the man who brought him a gruel of meal +and tallow, and urged him to eat, while Joan sat with her chin in her +two hands, looking at the dog, and talking to him. After this, when he +was quite comfortable, and no longer afraid, he heard a strange small +cry from the furry bundle on the sledge that brought his head up with a +jerk. + +Joan saw the movement, and heard the low answering whimper in his +throat. She turned quickly to the bundle, talking and cooing to it as +she took it in her arms, and then she pulled back the bearskin so that +Kazan could see. He had never seen a baby before, and Joan held it out +before him, so that he could look straight at it and see what a +wonderful creature it was. Its little pink face stared steadily at +Kazan. Its tiny fists reached out, and it made queer little sounds at +him, and then suddenly it kicked and screamed with delight and laughed. +At those sounds Kazan's whole body relaxed, and he dragged himself to +the girl's feet. + +"See, he likes the baby!" she cried. "_Mon pere_, we must give him a +name. What shall it be?" + +"Wait till morning for that," replied the father. "It is late, Joan. Go +into the tent, and sleep. We have no dogs now, and will travel slowly. +So we must start early." + +With her hand on the tent-flap, Joan, turned. + +"He came with the wolves," she said. "Let us call him Wolf." With one +arm she was holding the little Joan. The other she stretched out to +Kazan. "Wolf! Wolf!" she called softly. + +Kazan's eyes were on her. He knew that she was speaking to him, and he +drew himself a foot toward her. + +"He knows it already!" she cried. "Good night, _mon pere_." + +For a long time after she had gone into the tent, old Pierre Radisson +sat on the edge of the sledge, facing the fire, with Kazan at his feet. +Suddenly the silence was broken again by Gray Wolf's lonely howl deep in +the forest. Kazan lifted his head and whined. + +"She's calling for you, boy," said Pierre understandingly. + +He coughed, and clutched a hand to his breast, where the pain seemed +rending him. + +"Frost-bitten lung," he said, speaking straight at Kazan. "Got it early +in the winter, up at Fond du Lac. Hope we'll get home--in time--with the +kids." + +In the loneliness and emptiness of the big northern wilderness one falls +into the habit of talking to one's self. But Kazan's head was alert, and +his eyes watchful, so Pierre spoke to him. + +"We've got to get them home, and there's only you and me to do it," he +said, twisting his beard. Suddenly he clenched his fists. + +His hollow racking cough convulsed him again. + +"Home!" he panted, clutching his chest. "It's eighty miles straight +north--to the Churchill--and I pray to God we'll get there--with the +kids--before my lungs give out." + +He rose to his feet, and staggered a little as he walked. There was a +collar about Kazan's neck, and he chained him to the sledge. After that +he dragged three or four small logs upon the fire, and went quietly into +the tent where Joan and the baby were already asleep. Several times +that night Kazan heard the distant voice of Gray Wolf calling for him, +but something told him that he must not answer it now. Toward dawn Gray +Wolf came close in to the camp, and for the first time Kazan replied to +her. + +His howl awakened the man. He came out of the tent, peered for a few +moments up at the sky, built up the fire, and began to prepare +breakfast. He patted Kazan on the head, and gave him a chunk of meat. +Joan came out a few moments later, leaving the baby asleep in the tent. +She ran up and kissed Pierre, and then dropped down on her knees beside +Kazan, and talked to him almost as he had heard her talk to the baby. +When she jumped up to help her father, Kazan followed her, and when Joan +saw him standing firmly upon his legs she gave a cry of pleasure. + +It was a strange journey that began into the North that day. Pierre +Radisson emptied the sledge of everything but the tent, blankets, food +and the furry nest for baby Joan. Then he harnessed himself in the +traces and dragged the sledge over the snow. He coughed incessantly. + +"It's a cough I've had half the winter," lied Pierre, careful that Joan +saw no sign of blood on his lips or beard. "I'll keep in the cabin for a +week when we get home." + +Even Kazan, with that strange beast knowledge which man, unable to +explain, calls instinct, knew that what he said was not the truth. +Perhaps it was largely because he had heard other men cough like this, +and that for generations his sledge-dog ancestors had heard men cough as +Radisson coughed--and had learned what followed it. + +More than once he had scented death in tepees and cabins, which he had +not entered, and more than once he had sniffed at the mystery of death +that was not quite present, but near--just as he had caught at a +distance the subtle warning of storm and of fire. And that strange thing +seemed to be very near to him now, as he followed at the end of his +chain behind the sledge. It made him restless, and half a dozen times, +when the sledge stopped, he sniffed at the bit of humanity buried in the +bearskin. Each time that he did this Joan was quickly at his side, and +twice she patted his scarred and grizzled head until every drop of +blood in his body leaped riotously with a joy which his body did not +reveal. + +This day the chief thing that he came to understand was that the little +creature on the sledge was very precious to the girl who stroked his +head and talked to him, and that it was very helpless. He learned, too, +that Joan was most delighted, and that her voice was softer and thrilled +him more deeply, when he paid attention to that little, warm, living +thing in the bearskin. + +For a long time after they made camp Pierre Radisson sat beside the +fire. To-night he did not smoke. He stared straight into the flames. +When at last he rose to go into the tent with the girl and the baby, he +bent over Kazan and examined his hurt. + +"You've got to work in the traces to-morrow, boy," he said. "We must +make the river by to-morrow night. If we don't--" + +He did not finish. He was choking back one of those tearing coughs when +the tent-flap dropped behind him. Kazan lay stiff and alert, his eyes +filled with a strange anxiety. He did not like to see Radisson enter the +tent, for stronger than ever there hung that oppressive mystery in the +air about him, and it seemed to be a part of Pierre. + +Three times that night he heard faithful Gray Wolf calling for him deep +in the forest, and each time he answered her. Toward dawn she came in +close to camp. Once he caught the scent of her when she circled around +in the wind, and he tugged and whined at the end of his chain, hoping +that she would come in and lie down at his side. But no sooner had +Radisson moved in the tent than Gray Wolf was gone. The man's face was +thinner, and his eyes were redder this morning. His cough was not so +loud or so rending. It was like a wheeze, as if something had given way +inside, and before the girl came out he clutched his hands often at his +throat. Joan's face whitened when she saw him. Anxiety gave way to fear +in her eyes. Pierre Radisson laughed when she flung her arms about him, +and coughed to prove that what he said was true. + +"You see the cough is not so bad, my Joan," he said. "It is breaking up. +You can not have forgotten, _ma cheri_? It always leaves one red-eyed +and weak." + +It was a cold bleak dark day that followed, and through it Kazan and +the man tugged at the fore of the sledge, with Joan following in the +trail behind. Kazan's wound no longer hurt him. He pulled steadily with +all his splendid strength, and the man never lashed him once, but patted +him with his mittened hand on head and back. The day grew steadily +darker and in the tops of the trees there was the low moaning of a +storm. + +Darkness and the coming of the storm did not drive Pierre Radisson into +camp. "We must reach the river," he said to himself over and over again. +"We must reach the river--we must reach the river--" And he steadily +urged Kazan on to greater effort, while his own strength at the end of +the traces grew less. + +It had begun to storm when Pierre stopped to build a fire at noon. The +snow fell straight down in a white deluge so thick that it hid the tree +trunks fifty yards away. Pierre laughed when Joan shivered and snuggled +close up to him with the baby in her arms. He waited only an hour, and +then fastened Kazan in the traces again, and buckled the straps once +more about his own waist. In the silent gloom that was almost night +Pierre carried his compass in his hand, and at last, late in the +afternoon, they came to a break in the timber-line, and ahead of them +lay a plain, across which Radisson pointed an exultant hand. + +"There's the river, Joan," he said, his voice faint and husky. "We can +camp here now and wait for the storm to pass." + +Under a thick clump of spruce he put up the tent, and then began +gathering fire-wood. Joan helped him. As soon as they had boiled coffee +and eaten a supper of meat and toasted biscuits, Joan went into the tent +and dropped exhausted on her thick bed of balsam boughs, wrapping +herself and the baby up close in the skins and blankets. To-night she +had no word for Kazan. And Pierre was glad that she was too tired to sit +beside the fire and talk. And yet-- + +Kazan's alert eyes saw Pierre start suddenly. He rose from his seat on +the sledge and went to the tent. He drew back the flap and thrust in his +head and shoulders. + +"Asleep, Joan?" he asked. + +"Almost, father. Won't you please come--soon?" + +"After I smoke," he said. "Are you comfortable?" + +"Yes, I'm so tired--and--sleepy--" + +Pierre laughed softly. In the darkness he was gripping at his throat. + +"We're almost home, Joan. That is our river out there--the Little +Beaver. If I should run away and leave you to-night you could follow it +right to our cabin. It's only forty miles. Do you hear?" + +"Yes--I know--" + +"Forty miles--straight down the river. You couldn't lose yourself, Joan. +Only you'd have to be careful of air-holes in the ice." + +"Won't you come to bed, father? You're tired--and almost sick." + +"Yes--after I smoke," he repeated. "Joan, will you keep reminding me +to-morrow of the air-holes? I might forget. You can always tell them, +for the snow and the crust over them are whiter than that on the rest of +the ice, and like a sponge. Will you remember--the airholes--" + +"Yes-s-s-s--" + +Pierre dropped the tent-flap and returned to the fire. He staggered as +he walked. + +"Good night, boy," he said. "Guess I'd better go in with the kids. Two +days more--forty miles--two days--" + +Kazan watched him as he entered the tent. He laid his weight against the +end of his chain until the collar shut off his wind. His legs and back +twitched. In that tent where Radisson had gone were Joan and the baby. +He knew that Pierre would not hurt them, but he knew also that with +Pierre Radisson something terrible and impending was hovering very near +to them. He wanted the man outside--by the fire--where he could lie +still, and watch him. + +In the tent there was silence. Nearer to him than before came Gray +Wolf's cry. Each night she was calling earlier, and coming closer to the +camp. He wanted her very near to him to-night, but he did not even whine +in response. He dared not break that strange silence in the tent. He lay +still for a long time, tired and lame from the day's journey, but +sleepless. The fire burned lower; the wind in the tree-tops died away; +and the thick gray clouds rolled like a massive curtain from under the +skies. The stars began to glow white and metallic, and from far in the +North there came faintly a crisping moaning sound, like steel +sleigh-runners running over frosty snow--the mysterious monotone of the +Northern Lights. After that it grew steadily and swiftly colder. + +To-night Gray Wolf did not compass herself by the direction of the wind. +She followed like a sneaking shadow over the trail Pierre Radisson had +made, and when Kazan heard her again, long after midnight, he lay with, +his head erect, and his body rigid, save for a curious twitching of his +muscles. There was a new note in Gray Wolf's voice, a wailing note in +which there was more than the mate-call. It was The Message. And at the +sound of it Kazan rose from out of his silence and his fear, and with +his head turned straight up to the sky he howled as the wild dogs of the +North howl before the tepees of masters who are newly dead. + +Pierre Radisson was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + +It was dawn when the baby snuggled close to Joan's warm breast and +awakened her with its cry of hunger. She opened her eyes, brushed back +the thick hair from her face, and could see where the shadowy form of +her father was lying at the other side of the tent. He was very quiet, +and she was pleased that he was still sleeping. She knew that the day +before he had been very near to exhaustion, and so for half an hour +longer she lay quiet, cooing softly to the baby Joan. Then she arose +cautiously, tucked the baby in the warm blankets and furs, put on her +heavier garments, and went outside. + +By this time it was broad day, and she breathed a sigh of relief when +she saw that the storm had passed. It was bitterly cold. It seemed to +her that she had never known it to be so cold in all her life. The fire +was completely out. Kazan was huddled in a round ball, his nose tucked +under his body. He raised his head, shivering, as Joan came out. With +her heavily moccasined foot Joan scattered the ashes and charred sticks +where the fire had been. There was not a spark left. In returning to the +tent she stopped for a moment beside Kazan, and patted his shaggy head. + +"Poor Wolf!" she said. "I wish I had given you one of the bearskins!" + +She threw back the tent-flap and entered. For the first time she saw her +father's face in the light--and outside, Kazan heard the terrible +moaning cry that broke from her lips. No one could have looked at Pierre +Radisson's face once--and not have understood. + +After that one agonizing cry, Joan flung herself upon her father's +breast, sobbing so softly that even Kazan's sharp ears heard no sound. +She remained there in her grief until every vital energy of womanhood +and motherhood in her girlish body was roused to action by the wailing +cry of baby Joan. Then she sprang to her feet and ran out through the +tent opening. Kazan tugged at the end of his chain to meet her, but she +saw nothing of him now. The terror of the wilderness is greater than +that of death, and in an instant it had fallen upon Joan. It was not +because of fear for herself. It was the baby. The wailing cries from the +tent pierced her like knife-thrusts. + +And then, all at once, there came to her what old Pierre had said the +night before--his words about the river, the air-holes, the home forty +miles away. "_You couldn't lose yourself, Joan_" He had guessed what +might happen. + +She bundled the baby deep in the furs and returned to the fire-bed. Her +one thought now was that they must have fire. She made a little pile of +birch-bark, covered it with half-burned bits of wood, and went into the +tent for the matches. Pierre Radisson carried them in a water-proof box +in a pocket of his bearskin coat. She sobbed as she kneeled beside him +again, and obtained the box. As the fire flared up she added other bits +of wood, and then some of the larger pieces that Pierre had dragged into +camp. The fire gave her courage. Forty miles--and the river led to their +home! She must make that, with the baby and Wolf. For the first time +she turned to him, and spoke his name as she put her hand on his head. +After that she gave him a chunk of meat which she thawed out over the +fire, and melted the snow for tea. She was not hungry, but she recalled +how her father had made her eat four or five times a day, so she forced +herself to make a breakfast of a biscuit, a shred of meat and as much +hot tea as she could drink. + +The terrible hour she dreaded followed that. She wrapped blankets +closely about her father's body, and tied them with babiche cord. After +that she piled all the furs and blankets that remained on the sledge +close to the fire, and snuggled baby Joan deep down in them. Pulling +down the tent was a task. The ropes were stiff and frozen, and when she +had finished, one of her hands was bleeding. She piled the tent on the +sledge, and then, half, covering her face, turned and looked back. + +Pierre Radisson lay on his balsam bed, with nothing over him now but the +gray sky and the spruce-tops. Kazan stood stiff-legged and sniffed the +air. His spine bristled when Joan went back slowly and kneeled beside +the blanket-wrapped object. When she returned to him her face was white +and tense, and now there was a strange and terrible look in her eyes as +she stared out across the barren. She put him in the traces, and +fastened about her slender waist the strap that Pierre had used. Thus +they struck out for the river, floundering knee-deep in the freshly +fallen and drifted snow. Half-way Joan stumbled in a drift and fell, her +loose hair flying in a shimmering veil over the snow. With a mighty pull +Kazan was at her side, and his cold muzzle touched her face as she drew +herself to her feet. For a moment Joan took his shaggy head between her +two hands. + +"Wolf!" she moaned. "Oh, Wolf!" + +She went on, her breath coming pantingly now, even from her brief +exertion. The snow was not so deep on the ice of the river. But a wind +was rising. It came from the north and east, straight in her face, and +Joan bowed her head as she pulled with Kazan. Half a mile down the river +she stopped, and no longer could she repress the hopelessness that rose +to her lips in a sobbing choking cry. Forty miles! She clutched her +hands at her breast, and stood breathing like one who had been beaten, +her back to the wind. The baby was quiet. Joan went back and peered down +under the furs, and what she saw there spurred her on again almost +fiercely. Twice she stumbled to her knees in the drifts during the next +quarter of a mile. + +After that there was a stretch of wind-swept ice, and Kazan pulled the +sledge alone. Joan walked at his side. There was a pain in her chest. A +thousand needles seemed pricking her face, and suddenly she remembered +the thermometer. She exposed it for a time on the top of the tent. When +she looked at it a few minutes later it was thirty degrees below zero. +Forty miles! And her father had told her that she could make it--and +could not lose herself! But she did not know that even her father would +have been afraid to face the north that day, with the temperature at +thirty below, and a moaning wind bringing the first warning of a +blizzard. + +The timber was far behind her now. Ahead there was nothing but the +pitiless barren, and the timber beyond that was hidden by the gray gloom +of the day. If there had been trees, Joan's heart would not have choked +so with terror. But there was nothing--nothing but that gray ghostly +gloom, with the rim of the sky touching the earth a mile away. + +The snow grew heavy under her feet again. Always she was watching for +those treacherous, frost-coated traps in the ice her father had spoken +of. But she found now that all the ice and snow looked alike to her, and +that there was a growing pain back of her eyes. It was the intense cold. + +The river widened into a small lake, and here the wind struck her in the +face with such force that her weight was taken from the strap, and Kazan +dragged the sledge alone. A few inches of snow impeded her as much as a +foot had done before. Little by little she dropped back. Kazan forged to +her side, every ounce of his magnificent strength in the traces. By the +time they were on the river channel again, Joan was at the back of the +sledge, following in the trail made by Kazan. She was powerless to help +him. She felt more and more the leaden weight of her legs. There was but +one hope--and that was the forest. If they did not reach it soon, within +half an hour, she would be able to go no farther. Over and over again +she moaned a prayer for her baby as she struggled on. She fell in the +snow-drifts. Kazan and the sledge became only a dark blotch to her. And +then, all at once, she saw that they were leaving her. They were not +more than twenty feet ahead of her--but the blotch seemed to be a vast +distance away. Every bit of life and strength in her body was now bent +upon reaching the sledge--and baby Joan. + +It seemed an interminable time before she gained. With the sledge only +six feet ahead of her she struggled for what seemed to her to be an hour +before she could reach out and touch it. With a moan she flung herself +forward, and fell upon it. She no longer heard the wailing of the storm. +She no longer felt discomfort. With her face in the furs under which +baby Joan was buried, there came to her with swiftness and joy a vision +of warmth and home. And then the vision faded away, and was followed by +deep night. + +Kazan stopped in the trail. He came back then and sat down upon his +haunches beside her, waiting for her to move and speak. But she was +very still. He thrust his nose into her loose hair. A whine rose in his +throat, and suddenly he raised his head and sniffed in the face of the +wind. Something came to him with that wind. He muzzled Joan again, hut +she did not stir. Then he went forward, and stood in his traces, ready +for the pull, and looked hack at her. Still she did not move or speak, +and Kazan's whine gave place to a sharp excited bark. + +The strange thing in the wind came to him stronger for a moment. He +began to pull. The sledge-runners had frozen to the snow, and it took +every ounce of his strength to free them. Twice during the next five +minutes he stopped and sniffed the air. The third time that he halted, +in a drift of snow, he returned to Joan's side again, and whined to +awaken her. Then he tugged again at the end of his traces, and foot by +foot he dragged the sledge through the drift. Beyond the drift there was +a stretch of clear ice, and here Kazan rested. During a lull in the wind +the scent came to him stronger than before. + +At the end of the clear ice was a narrow break in the shore, where a +creek ran into the main stream. If Joan had been conscious she would +have urged him straight ahead. But Kazan turned into the break, and for +ten minutes he struggled through the snow without a rest, whining more +and more frequently, until at last the whine broke into a joyous bark. +Ahead of him, close to the creek, was a small cabin. Smoke was rising +out of the chimney. It was the scent of smoke that had come to him in +the wind. A hard level slope reached to the cabin door, and with the +last strength that was in him Kazan dragged his burden up that. Then he +settled himself back beside Joan, lifted his shaggy head to the dark sky +and howled. + +A moment later the door opened. A man came out. Kazan's reddened, +snow-shot eyes followed him watchfully as he ran to the sledge. He heard +his startled exclamation as he bent over Joan. In another lull of the +wind there came from out of the mass of furs on the sledge the wailing, +half-smothered voice of baby Joan. + +A deep sigh of relief heaved up from Kazan's chest. He was exhausted. +His strength was gone. His feet were torn and bleeding. But the voice +of baby Joan filled him with a strange happiness, and he lay down in his +traces, while the man carried Joan and the baby into the life and warmth +of the cabin. + +A few minutes later the man reappeared. He was not old, like Pierre +Radisson. He came close to Kazan, and looked down at him. + +"My God," he said. "And you did that--_alone!_" + +He bent down fearlessly, unfastened him from the traces, and led him +toward the cabin door. Kazan hesitated but once--almost on the +threshold. He turned his head, swift and alert. From out of the moaning +and wailing of the storm it seemed to him that for a moment he had heard +the voice of Gray Wolf. + +Then the cabin door closed behind him. + +Back in a shadowy corner of the cabin he lay, while the man prepared +something over a hot stove for Joan. It was a long time before Joan rose +from the cot on which the man had placed her. After that Kazan heard her +sobbing; and then the man made her eat, and for a time they talked. Then +the stranger hung up a big blanket in front of the bunk, and sat down +close to the stove. Quietly Kazan slipped along the wall, and crept +under the bunk. For a long time he could hear the sobbing breath of the +girl. Then all was still. + +The next morning he slipped out through the door when the man opened it, +and sped swiftly into the forest. Half a mile away he found the trail of +Gray Wolf, and called to her. From the frozen river came her reply, and +he went to her. + +Vainly Gray Wolf tried to lure him back into their old haunts--away from +the cabin and the scent of man. Late that morning the man harnessed his +dogs, and from the fringe of the forest Kazan saw him tuck Joan and the +baby among the furs on the sledge, as old Pierre had done. All that day +he followed in the trail of the team, with Gray Wolf slinking behind +him. They traveled until dark; and then, under the stars and the moon +that had followed the storm, the man still urged on his team. It was +deep in the night when they came to another cabin, and the man beat upon +the door. A light, the opening of the door, the joyous welcome of a +man's voice, Joan's sobbing cry--Kazan heard these from the shadows in +which he was hidden, and then slipped back to Gray Wolf. + +In the days and weeks that followed Joan's home-coming the lure of the +cabin and of the woman's hand held Kazan. As he had tolerated Pierre, so +now he tolerated the younger man who lived with Joan and the baby. He +knew that the man was very dear to Joan, and that the baby was very dear +to him, as it was to the girl. It was not until the third day that Joan +succeeded in coaxing him into the cabin--and that was the day on which +the man returned with the dead and frozen body of Pierre. It was Joan's +husband who first found the name on the collar he wore, and they began +calling him Kazan. + +Half a mile away, at the summit of a huge mass of rock which the Indians +called the Sun Rock, he and Gray Wolf had found a home; and from here +they went down to their hunts on the plain, and often the girl's voice +reached up to them, calling, "_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +Through all the long winter Kazan hovered thus between the lure of Joan +and the cabin--and Gray Wolf. + +Then came Spring--and the Great Change. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE GREAT CHANGE + + +The rocks, the ridges and the valleys were taking on a warmer glow. The +poplar buds were ready to burst. The scent of balsam and of spruce grew +heavier in the air each day, and all through the wilderness, in plain +and forest, there was the rippling murmur of the spring floods finding +their way to Hudson's Bay. In that great bay there was the rumble and +crash of the ice fields thundering down in the early break-up through +the Roes Welcome--the doorway to the Arctic, and for that reason there +still came with the April wind an occasional sharp breath of winter. + +Kazan had sheltered himself against that wind. Not a breath of air +stirred in the sunny spot the wolf-dog had chosen for himself. He was +more comfortable than he had been at any time during the six months of +terrible winter--and as he slept he dreamed. + +Gray Wolf, his wild mate, lay near him, flat on her belly, her forepaws +reaching out, her eyes and nostrils as keen and alert as the smell of +man could make them. For there was that smell of man, as well as of +balsam and spruce, in the warm spring air. She gazed anxiously and +sometimes steadily, at Kazan as he slept. Her own gray spine stiffened +when she saw the tawny hair along Kazan's back bristle at some dream +vision. She whined softly as his upper lip snarled back, showing his +long white fangs. But for the most part Kazan lay quiet, save for the +muscular twitchings of legs, shoulders and muzzle, which always tell +when a dog is dreaming; and as he dreamed there came to the door of the +cabin out on the plain a blue-eyed girl-woman, with a big brown braid +over her shoulder, who called through the cup of her hands, "Kazan, +Kazan, Kazan!" + +The voice reached faintly to the top of the Sun Rock, and Gray Wolf +flattened her ears. Kazan stirred, and in another instant he was awake +and on his feet. He leaped to an outcropping ledge, sniffing the air and +looking far out over the plain that lay below them. + +Over the plain the woman's voice came to them again, and Kazan ran to +the edge of the rock and whined. Gray Wolf stepped softly to his side +and laid her muzzle on his shoulder. She had grown to know what the +Voice meant. Day and night she feared it, more than she feared the scent +or sound of man. + +Since she had given up the pack and her old life for Kazan, the Voice +had become Gray Wolf's greatest enemy, and she hated it. It took Kazan +from her. And wherever it went, Kazan followed. + +Night after night it robbed her of her mate, and left her to wander +alone under the stars and the moon, keeping faithfully to her +loneliness, and never once responding with her own tongue to the +hunt-calls of her wild brothers and sisters in the forests and out on +the plains. Usually she would snarl at the Voice, and sometimes nip +Kazan lightly to show her displeasure. But to-day, as the Voice came a +third time, she slunk back into the darkness of a fissure between two +rocks, and Kazan saw only the fiery glow of her eyes. + +Kazan ran nervously to the trail their feet had worn up to the top of +the Sun Rock, and stood undecided. All day, and yesterday, he had been +uneasy and disturbed. Whatever it was that stirred him seemed to be in +the air, for he could not see it or hear it or scent it. But he could +_feel_ it. He went to the fissure and sniffed at Gray Wolf. Usually she +whined coaxingly. But her response to-day was to draw back her lips +until he could see her white fangs. + +A fourth tune the Voice came to them faintly, and she snapped fiercely +at some unseen thing in the darkness between the two rocks. Kazan went +again to the trail, still hesitating. Then he began to go down. It was a +narrow winding trail, worn only by the pads and claws of animals, for +the Sun Rock was a huge crag that rose almost sheer up for a hundred +feet above the tops of the spruce and balsam, its bald crest catching +the first gleams of the sun in the morning and the last glow of it in +the evening. Gray Wolf had first led Kazan to the security of the +retreat at the top of the rock. + +When he reached the bottom he no longer hesitated, but darted swiftly in +the direction of the cabin. Because of that instinct of the wild that +was still in him, he always approached the cabin with caution. He never +gave warning, and for a moment Joan was startled when she looked up from +her baby and saw Kazan's shaggy head and shoulders in the open door. The +baby struggled and kicked in her delight, and held out her two hands +with cooing cries to Kazan. Joan, too, held out a hand. + +"Kazan!" she cried softly. "Come in, Kazan!" + +Slowly the wild red light in Kazan's eyes softened. He put a forefoot on +the sill, and stood there, while the girl urged him again. Suddenly his +legs seemed to sink a little under him, his tail drooped and he slunk in +with that doggish air of having committed a crime. The creatures he +loved were in the cabin, but the cabin itself he hated. He hated all +cabins, for they all breathed of the club and the whip and bondage. Like +all sledge-dogs he preferred the open snow for a bed, and the +spruce-tops for shelter. + +Joan dropped her hand to his head, and at its touch there thrilled +through him that strange joy that was his reward for leaving Gray Wolf +and the wild. Slowly he raised his head until his black muzzle rested on +her lap, and he closed his eyes while that wonderful little creature +that mystified him so--the baby--prodded him with her tiny feet, and +pulled his tawny hair. He loved these baby-maulings even more than the +touch of Joan's hand. + +Motionless, sphinx-like, undemonstrative in every muscle of his body, +Kazan stood, scarcely breathing. More than once this lack of +demonstration had urged Joan's husband to warn her. But the wolf that +was in Kazan, his wild aloofness, even his mating with Gray Wolf had +made her love him more. She understood, and had faith in him. + +In the days of the last snow Kazan had proved himself. A neighboring +trapper had run over with his team, and the baby Joan had toddled up to +one of the big huskies. There was a fierce snap of jaws, a scream of +horror from Joan, a shout from the men as they leaped toward the pack. +But Kazan was ahead of them all. In a gray streak that traveled with the +speed of a bullet he was at the big husky's throat. When they pulled him +off, the husky was dead. Joan thought of that now, as the baby kicked +and tousled Kazan's head. + +"Good old Kazan," she cried softly, putting her face down close to him. +"We're glad you came, Kazan, for we're going to be alone to-night--baby +and I. Daddy's gone to the post, and you must care for us while he's +away." + +She tickled his nose with the end of her long shining braid. This always +delighted the baby, for in spite of his stoicism Kazan had to sniff and +sometimes to sneeze, and twig his ears. And it pleased him, too. He +loved the sweet scent of Joan's hair. + +"And you'd fight for us, if you had to, wouldn't you?" she went on. Then +she rose quietly. "I must close the door," she said. "I don't want you +to go away again to-day, Kazan. You must stay with us." + +Kazan went off to his corner, and lay down. Just as there had been some +strange thing at the top of the Sun Rock to disturb him that day, so now +there was a mystery that disturbed him in the cabin. He sniffed the air, +trying to fathom its secret. Whatever it was, it seemed to make his +mistress different, too. And she was digging out all sorts of odds and +ends of things about the cabin, and doing them up in packages. Late that +night, before she went to bed, Joan came and snuggled her hand close +down beside him for a few moments. + +"We're going away," she whispered, and there was a curious tremble that +was almost a sob in her voice. "We're going home, Kazan. We're going +away down where his people live--where they have churches, and cities, +and music, and all the beautiful things in the world. And we're going to +take _you_, Kazan!" + +Kazan didn't understand. But he was happy at having the woman so near to +him, and talking to him. At these times he forgot Gray Wolf. The dog +that was in him surged over his quarter-strain of wildness, and the +woman and the baby alone filled his world. But after Joan had gone to +her bed, and all was quiet in the cabin, his old uneasiness returned. He +rose to his feet and moved stealthily about the cabin, sniffing at the +walls, the door and the things his mistress had done into packages. A +low whine rose in his throat. Joan, half asleep, heard it, and murmured: +"Be quiet, Kazan. Go to sleep--go to sleep--" + +Long after that, Kazan stood rigid in the center of the room, listening, +trembling. And faintly he heard, far away, the wailing cry of, Gray +Wolf. But to-night it was not the cry of loneliness. It sent a thrill +through him. He ran to the door, and whined, but Joan was deep in +slumber and did not hear him. Once more he heard the cry, and only once. +Then the night grew still. He crouched down near the door. + +Joan found him there, still watchful, still listening, when she awoke in +the early morning. She came to open the door for him, and in a moment he +was gone. His feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth as he sped in the +direction of the Sun Rock. Across the plain he could see the cap of it +already painted with a golden glow. + +He came to the narrow winding trail, and wormed his way up it swiftly. + +Gray Wolf was not at the top to greet him. But he could smell her, and +the scent of that other thing was strong in the air. His muscles +tightened; his legs grew tense. Deep down in his chest there began the +low rumble of a growl. He knew now what that strange thing was that had +haunted him, and made him uneasy. It was _life_. Something that lived +and breathed had invaded the home which he and Gray Wolf had chosen. He +bared his long fangs, and a snarl of defiance drew back his lips. +Stiff-legged, prepared to spring, his neck and head reaching out, he +approached the two rocks between which Gray Wolf had crept the night +before. She was still there. And with her was _something else_. After a +moment the tenseness left Kazan's body. His bristling crest drooped +until it lay flat. His ears shot forward, and he put his head and +shoulders between the two rocks, and whined softly. And Gray Wolf +whined. Slowly Kazan backed out, and faced the rising sun. Then he lay +down, so that his body shielded I the entrance to the chamber between +the rocks. + +Gray Wolf was a mother. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + +All that day Kazan guarded the top of the Sun Rock. Fate, and the fear +and brutality of masters, had heretofore kept him from fatherhood, and +he was puzzled. Something told him now that he belonged to the Sun Rock, +and not to the cabin. The call that came to him from over the plain was +not so strong. At dusk Gray Wolf came out from her retreat, and slunk to +his side, whimpering, and nipped gently at his shaggy neck. It was the +old instinct of his fathers that made him respond by caressing Gray +Wolf's face with his tongue. Then Gray Wolf's jaws opened, and she +laughed in short panting breaths, as if she had been hard run. She was +happy, and as they heard a little snuffling sound from between the +rocks, Kazan wagged his tail, and Gray Wolf darted back to her young. + +The babyish cry and its effect upon Gray Wolf taught Kazan his first +lesson in fatherhood. Instinct again told him that Gray Wolf could not +go down to the hunt with him now--that she must stay at the top of the +Sun Rock. So when the moon rose he went down alone, and toward dawn +returned with a big white rabbit between his jaws. It was the wild in +him that made him do this, and Gray Wolf ate ravenously. Then he knew +that each night hereafter he must hunt for Gray Wolf--and the little +whimpering creatures hidden between the two rocks. + +The next day, and still the next, he did not go to the cabin, though he +heard the voices of both the man and the woman calling him. On the fifth +he went down, and Joan and the baby were so glad that the woman hugged +him, and the baby kicked and laughed and screamed at him, while the man +stood by cautiously, watching their demonstrations with a gleam of +disapprobation in his eyes. + +"I'm afraid of him," he told Joan for the hundredth time. "That's the +wolf-gleam in his eyes. He's of a treacherous breed. Sometimes I wish +we'd never brought him home." + +"If we hadn't--where would the baby--have gone?" Joan reminded him, a +little catch in her voice. + +"I had almost forgotten that," said her husband. "Kazan, you old devil, +I guess I love you, too." He laid his hand caressingly on Kazan's head. +"Wonder how he'll take to life down there?" he asked. "He has always +been used to the forests. It'll seem mighty strange." + +"And so--have I--always been used to the forests," whispered Joan. "I +guess that's why I love Kazan--next to you and the baby. Kazan--dear old +Kazan!" + +This time Kazan felt and scented more of that mysterious change in the +cabin. Joan and her husband talked incessantly of their plans when they +were together; and when the man was away Joan talked to the baby, and to +him. And each time that he came down to the cabin during the week that +followed, he grew more and more restless, until at last the man noticed +the change in him. + +"I believe he knows," he said to Joan one evening. "I believe he knows +we're preparing to leave." Then he added: "The river was rising again +to-day. It will be another week before we can start, perhaps longer." + +That same night the moon flooded the top of the Sun Rock with a golden +light, and out into the glow of it came Gray Wolf, with her three little +whelps toddling behind her. There was much about these soft little balls +that tumbled about him and snuggled in his tawny coat that reminded +Kazan of the baby. At times they made the same queer, soft little +sounds, and they staggered about on their four little legs just as +helplessly as baby Joan made her way about on two. He did not fondle +them, as Gray Wolf did, but the touch of them, and their babyish +whimperings, filled him with a kind of pleasure that he had never +experienced before. + +The moon was straight above them, and the night was almost as bright as +day, when he went down again to hunt for Gray Wolf. At the foot of the +rock a big white rabbit popped up ahead of him, and he gave chase. For +half a mile he pursued, until the wolf instinct in him rose over the +dog, and he gave up the futile race. A deer he might have overtaken, but +small game the wolf must hunt as the fox hunts it, and he began to slip +through the thickets slowly and as quietly as a shadow. He was a mile +from the Sun Rock when two quick leaps put Gray Wolf's supper between +his jaws. He trotted back slowly, dropping the big seven-pound snow-shoe +hare now and then to rest. + +When he came to the narrow trail that led to the top of the Sun Rock he +stopped. In that trail was the warm scent of strange feet. The rabbit +fell from his jaws. Every hair in his body was suddenly electrified into +life. What he scented was not the scent of a rabbit, a marten or a +porcupine. Fang and claw had climbed the path ahead of him. And then, +coming faintly to him from the top of the rock, he heard sounds which +sent him up with a terrible whining cry. When he reached the summit he +saw in the white moonlight a scene that stopped him for a single moment. +Close to the edge of the sheer fall to the rocks, fifty feet below, Gray +Wolf was engaged in a death-struggle with a huge gray lynx. She was +down--and under, and from her there came a sudden sharp terrible cry of +pain. + +Kazan flew across the rock. His attack was the swift silent assault of +the wolf, combined with the greater courage, the fury and the strategy +of the husky. Another husky would have died in that first attack. But +the lynx was not a dog or a wolf. It was "Mow-lee, the swift," as the +Sarcees had named it--the quickest creature in the wilderness. Kazan's +inch-long fangs should have sunk deep in its jugular. But in a +fractional part of a second the lynx had thrown itself back like a huge +soft ball, and Kazan's teeth buried themselves in the flesh of its neck +instead of the jugular. And Kazan was not now fighting the fangs of a +wolf in the pack, or of another husky. He was fighting claws--claws that +ripped like twenty razor-edged knives, and which even a jugular hold +could not stop. + +Once he had fought a lynx in a trap, and he had not forgotten the lesson +the battle had taught him. He fought to pull the lynx _down_, instead of +forcing it on its back, as he would have done with another dog or a +wolf. He knew that when on its back the fierce cat was most dangerous. +One rip of its powerful hindfeet could disembowel him. + +Behind him he heard Gray Wolf sobbing and crying, and he knew that she +was terribly hurt. He was filled with the rage and strength of two dogs, +and his teeth met through the flesh and hide of the cat's throat. But +the big lynx escaped death by half an inch. It would take a fresh grip +to reach the jugular, and suddenly Kazan made the deadly lunge. There +was an instant's freedom for the lynx, and in that moment it flung +itself back, and Kazan gripped at its throat--_on top_. + +The cat's claws ripped through his flesh, cutting open his side--a +little too high to kill. Another stroke and they would have cut to his +vitals. But they had struggled close to the edge of the rock wall, and +suddenly, without a snarl or a cry, they rolled over. It was fifty or +sixty feet to the rocks of the ledge below, and even as they pitched +over and over in the fall, Kazan's teeth sank deeper. They struck with +terrific force, Kazan uppermost. The shock sent him half a dozen feet +from his enemy. He was up like a flash, dizzy, snarling, on the +defensive. The lynx lay limp and motionless where it had fallen. Kazan +came nearer, still prepared, and sniffed cautiously. Something told him +that the fight was over. He turned and dragged himself slowly along the +ledge to the trail, and returned to Gray Wolf. + +Gray Wolf was no longer in the moonlight. Close to the two rocks lay the +limp and lifeless little bodies of the three pups. The lynx had torn +them to pieces. With a whine of grief Kazan approached the two boulders +and thrust his head between them. Gray Wolf was there, crying to herself +in that terrible sobbing way. He went in, and began to lick her bleeding +shoulders and head. All the rest of that night she whimpered with pain. +With dawn she dragged herself out to the lifeless little bodies on the +rock. + +And then Kazan saw the terrible work of the lynx. For Gray Wolf was +blind--not for a day or a night, but blind for all time. A gloom that no +sun could break had become her shroud. And perhaps again it was that +instinct of animal creation, which often is more wonderful than man's +reason, that told Kazan what had happened. For he knew now that she was +helpless--more helpless than the little creatures that had gamboled in +the moonlight a few hours before. He remained close beside her all +that day. + +[Illustration: Kazan gripped at its throat] + +Vainly that day did Joan call for Kazan. Her voice rose to the Sun Rock, +and Gray Wolf's head snuggled closer to Kazan, and Kazan's ears dropped +back, and he licked her wounds. Late in the afternoon Kazan left Gray +Wolf long enough to run to the bottom of the trail and bring up the +snow-shoe rabbit. Gray Wolf muzzled the fur and flesh, but would not +eat. Still a little later Kazan urged her to follow him to the trail. He +no longer wanted to stay at the top of the Sun Rock, and he no longer +wanted Gray Wolf to stay there. Step by step he drew her down the +winding path away from her dead puppies. She would move only when he was +very near her--so near that she could touch his scarred flank with her +nose. + +They came at last to the point in the trail where they had to leap down +a distance of three or four feet from the edge of a rock, and here Kazan +saw how utterly helpless Gray Wolf had become. She whined, and crouched +twenty times before she dared make the spring, and then she jumped +stiff-legged, and fell in a heap at Kazan's feet. After this Kazan did +not have to urge her so hard, for the fall impinged on her the fact that +she was safe only when her muzzle touched her mate's flank. She followed +him obediently when they reached the plain, trotting with her +foreshoulder to his hip. + +Kazan was heading for a thicket in the creek bottom half a mile away, +and a dozen times in that short distance Gray Wolf stumbled and fell. +And each time that she fell Kazan learned a little more of the +limitations of blindness. Once he sprang off in pursuit of a rabbit, but +he had not taken twenty leaps when he stopped and looked back. Gray Wolf +had not moved an inch. She stood motionless, sniffing the air--waiting +for him! For a full minute Kazan stood, also waiting. Then he returned +to her. Ever after this he returned to the point where he had left Gray +Wolf, knowing that he would find her there. + +All that day they remained in the thicket. In the afternoon he visited +the cabin. Joan and her husband were there, and both saw at once +Kazan's torn side and his lacerated head and shoulders. + +"Pretty near a finish fight for him," said the man, after he had +examined him. "It was either a lynx or a bear. Another wolf could not do +that." + +For half an hour Joan worked over him, talking to him all the time, and +fondling him with her soft hands. She bathed his wounds in warm water, +and then covered them with a healing salve, and Kazan was filled again +with that old restful desire to remain with her always, and never to go +back into the forests. For an hour she let him lie on the edge of her +dress, with his nose touching her foot, while she worked on baby things. +Then she rose to prepare supper, and Kazan got up--a little wearily--and +went to the door. Gray Wolf and the gloom of the night were calling him, +and he answered that call with a slouch of his shoulders and a drooping +head. Its old thrill was gone. He watched his chance, and went out +through the door. The moon had risen when he rejoined Gray Wolf. She +greeted his return with a low whine of joy, and muzzled him with her +blind face. In her helplessness she looked happier than Kazan in all his +strength. + +From now on, during the days that followed, it was a last great fight +between blind and faithful Gray Wolf and the woman. If Joan had known of +what lay in the thicket, if she could once have seen the poor creature +to whom Kazan was now all life--the sun, the stars, the moon, and +food--she would have helped Gray Wolf. But as it was she tried to lure +Kazan more and more to the cabin, and slowly she won. + +At last the great day came, eight days after the fight on the Sun Rock. +Kazan had taken Gray Wolf to a wooded point on the river two days +before, and there he had left her the preceding night when he went to +the cabin. This time a stout babiche thong was tied to the collar round +his neck, and he was fastened to a staple in the log wall. Joan and her +husband were up before it was light next day. The sun was just rising +when they all went out, the man carrying the baby, and Joan leading him. +Joan turned and locked the cabin door, and Kazan heard a sob in her +throat as they followed the man down to the river. The big canoe was +packed and waiting. Joan got in first, with the baby. Then, still +holding the babiche thong, she drew Kazan up close to her, so that he +lay with his weight against her. + +The sun fell warmly on Kazan's back as they shoved off, and he closed +his eyes, and rested his head on Joan's lap. Her hand fell softly on his +shoulder. He heard again that sound which the man could not hear, the +broken sob in her throat, as the canoe moved slowly down to the wooded +point. + +Joan waved her hand back at the cabin, just disappearing behind the +trees. + +"Good-by!" she cried sadly. "Good-by--" And then she buried her face +close down to Kazan and the baby, and sobbed. + +The man stopped paddling. + +"You're not sorry--Joan?" he asked. + +They were drifting past the point now, and the scent of Gray Wolf came +to Kazan's nostrils, rousing him, and bringing a low whine from his +throat. + +"You're not sorry--we're going?" Joan shook her head. + +"No," she replied. "Only I've--always lived here--in the forests--and +they're--home!" + +The point with its white finger of sand, was behind them now. And Kazan +was standing rigid, facing it. The man called to him, and Joan lifted +her head. She, too, saw the point, and suddenly the babiche leash +slipped from her fingers, and a strange light leaped into her blue eyes +as she saw what stood at the end of that white tip of sand. It was Gray +Wolf. Her blind eyes were turned toward Kazan. At last Gray Wolf, the +faithful, understood. Scent told her what her eyes could not see. Kazan +and the man-smell were together. And they were going--going--going-- + +"Look!" whispered Joan. + +The man turned. Gray Wolf's forefeet were in the water. And now, as the +canoe drifted farther and farther away, she settled back on her +haunches, raised her head to the sun which she could not see and gave +her last long wailing cry for Kazan. + +The canoe lurched. A tawny body shot through the air--and Kazan was +gone. + +The man reached forward for his rifle. Joan's hand stopped him. Her +face was white. + +"Let him go back to her! Let him go--let him go!" she cried. "It is his +place--with her." + +And Kazan reaching the shore, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and +looked for the last time toward the woman. The canoe was drifting slowly +around the first bend. A moment more and it had disappeared. Gray Wolf +had won. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DAYS OF FIRE + + +From the night of the terrible fight with the big gray lynx on the top +of the Sun Rock, Kazan remembered less and less vividly the old days +when he had been a sledge-dog, and the leader of a pack. He would never +quite forget them, and always there would stand out certain memories +from among the rest, like fires cutting the blackness of night. But as +man dates events from his birth, his marriage, his freedom from a +bondage, or some foundation-step in his career, so all things seemed to +Kazan to begin with two tragedies which had followed one fast upon the +other after the birth of Gray Wolf's pups. + +The first was the fight on the Sun Rock, when the big gray lynx had +blinded his beautiful wolf mate for all time, and had torn her pups into +pieces. He in turn had killed the lynx. But Gray Wolf was still blind. +Vengeance had not been able to give her sight. She could no longer hunt +with him, as they had hunted with the wild wolf-packs out on the plain, +and in the dark forests. So at thought of that night he always snarled, +and his lips curled back to reveal his inch-long fangs. + +The other tragedy was the going of Joan, her baby and her husband. +Something more infallible than reason told Kazan that they would not +come back. Brightest of all the pictures that remained with him was that +of the sunny morning when the woman and the baby he loved, and the man +he endured because of them, had gone away in the canoe, and often he +would go to the point, and gaze longingly down-stream, where he had +leaped from the canoe to return to his blind mate. + +So Kazan's life seemed now to be made up chiefly of three things: his +hatred of everything that bore the scent or mark of the lynx, his +grieving for Joan and the baby, and Gray Wolf. It was natural that the +strongest passion in him should be his hatred of the lynx, for not only +Gray Wolf's blindness and the death of the pups, but even the loss of +the woman and the baby he laid to that fatal struggle on the Sun Rock. +From that hour he became the deadliest enemy of the lynx tribe. Wherever +he struck the scent of the big gray cat he was turned into a snarling +demon, and his hatred grew day by day, as he became more completely a +part of the wild. + +He found that Gray Wolf was more necessary to him now than she had ever +been since the day she had left the wolf-pack for him. He was +three-quarters dog, and the dog-part of him demanded companionship. +There was only Gray Wolf to give him that now. They were alone. +Civilization was four hundred miles south of them. The nearest Hudson's +Bay post was sixty miles to the west. Often, in the days of the woman +and the baby, Gray Wolf had spent her nights alone out in the forest, +waiting and calling for Kazan. Now it was Kazan who was lonely and +uneasy when he was away from her side. + +In her blindness Gray Wolf could no longer hunt with her mate. But +gradually a new code of understanding grew up between them, and through +her blindness they learned many things that they had not known before. +By early summer Gray Wolf could travel with Kazan, if he did not move +too swiftly. She ran at his flank, with her shoulder or muzzle touching +him, and Kazan learned not to leap, but to trot. Very quickly he found +that he must choose the easiest trails for Gray Wolf's feet. When they +came to a space to be bridged by a leap, he would muzzle Gray Wolf and +whine, and she would stand with ears alert--listening. Then Kazan would +take the leap, and she understood the distance she had to cover. She +always over-leaped, which was a good fault. + +In another way, and one that was destined to serve them many times in +the future, she became of greater help than ever to Kazan. Scent and +hearing entirely took the place of sight. Each day developed these +senses more and more, and at the same time there developed between them +the dumb language whereby she could impress upon Kazan what she had +discovered by scent or sound. It became a curious habit of Kazan's +always to look at Gray Wolf when they stopped to listen, or to scent the +air. + +After the fight on the Sun Rock, Kazan had taken his blind mate to a +thick clump of spruce and balsam in the river-bottom, where they +remained until early summer. Every day for weeks Kazan went to the cabin +where Joan and the baby--and the man--had been. For a long time he went +hopefully, looking each day or night to see some sign of life there. But +the door was never open. The boards and saplings at the windows always +remained. Never a spiral of smoke rose from the clay chimney. Grass and +vines began to grow in the path. And fainter and fainter grew that scent +which Kazan could still find about it--the scent of man, of the woman, +the baby. + +One day he found a little baby moccasin under one of the closed windows. +It was old, and worn out, and blackened by snow and rain, but he lay +down beside it, and remained there for a long time, while the baby +Joan--a thousand miles away--was playing with the strange toys of +civilization. Then he returned to Gray Wolf among the spruce and balsam. + +The cabin was the one place to which Gray Wolf would not follow him. At +all other times she was at his side. Now that she had become accustomed +to blindness, she even accompanied him on his hunts, until he struck +game, and began the chase. Then she would wait for him. Kazan usually +hunted the big snow-shoe rabbits. But one night he ran down and killed a +young doe. The kill was too heavy to drag to Gray Wolf, so he returned +to where she was waiting for him and guided her to the feast. In many +ways they became more and more inseparable as the summer lengthened, +until at last, through all the wilderness, their footprints were always +two by two and never one by one. + +Then came the great fire. + +Gray Wolf caught the scent of it when it was still two days to the west. +The sun that night went down in a lurid cloud. The moon, drifting into +the west, became blood red. When it dropped behind the wilderness in +this manner, the Indians called it the Bleeding Moon, and the air was +filled with omens. + +All the next day Gray Wolf was nervous, and toward noon Kazan caught in +the air the warning that she had sensed many hours ahead of him. +Steadily the scent grew stronger, and by the middle of the afternoon the +sun was veiled by a film of smoke. + +The flight of the wild things from the triangle of forest between the +junctions of the Pipestone and Cree Rivers would have begun then, but +the wind shifted. It was a fatal shift. The fire was raging from the +west and south. Then the wind swept straight eastward, carrying the +smoke with it, and during this breathing spell all the wild creatures in +the triangle between the two rivers waited. This gave the fire time to +sweep completely, across the base of the forest triangle, cutting off +the last trails of escape. + +Then the wind shifted again, and the fire swept north. The head of the +triangle became a death-trap. All through the night the southern sky was +filled with a lurid glow, and by morning the heat and smoke and ash were +suffocating. + +Panic-striken, Kazan searched vainly for a means of escape. Not for an +instant did he leave Gray Wolf. It would have been easy for him to swim +across either of the two streams, for he was three-quarters dog. But at +the first touch of water on her paws, Gray Wolf drew back, shrinking. +Like all her breed, she would face fire and death before water. Kazan +urged. A dozen times he leaped in, and swam out into the stream. But +Gray Wolf would come no farther than she could wade. + +They could hear the distant murmuring roar of the fire now. Ahead of it +came the wild things. Moose, caribou and deer plunged into the water of +the streams and swam to the safety of the opposite side. Out upon a +white finger of sand lumbered a big black bear with two cubs, and even +the cubs took to the water, and swam across easily. Kazan watched them, +and whined to Gray Wolf. + +And then out upon that white finger of sand came other things that +dreaded the water as Gray Wolf dreaded it: a big fat porcupine, a sleek +little marten, a fisher-cat that sniffed the air and wailed like a +child. Those things that could not or would not swim outnumbered the +others three to one. Hundreds of little ermine scurried along the shore +like rats, their squeaking little voices sounding incessantly; foxes ran +swiftly along the banks, seeking a tree or a windfall that might bridge +the water for them; the lynx snarled and faced the fire; and Gray +Wolf's own tribe--the wolves--dared take no deeper step than she. + +Dripping and panting, and half choked by heat and smoke, Kazan came to +Gray Wolf's side. There was but one refuge left near them, and that was +the sand-bar. It reached out for fifty feet into the stream. Quickly he +led his blind mate toward it. As they came through the low bush to the +river-bed, something stopped them both. To their nostrils had come the +scent of a deadlier enemy than fire. A lynx had taken possession of the +sand-bar, and was crouching at the end of it. Three porcupines had +dragged themselves into the edge of the water, and lay there like balls, +their quills alert and quivering. A fisher-cat was snarling at the lynx. +And the lynx, with ears laid back, watched Kazan and Gray Wolf as they +began the invasion of the sand-bar. + +Faithful Gray Wolf was full of fight, and she sprang shoulder to +shoulder with Kazan, her fangs bared. With an angry snap, Kazan drove +her back, and she stood quivering and whining while he advanced. +Light-footed, his pointed ears forward, no menace or threat in his +attitude, he advanced. It was the deadly advance of the husky trained +in battle, skilled in the art of killing. A man from civilization would +have said that the dog was approaching the lynx with friendly +intentions. But the lynx understood. It was the old feud of many +generations--made deadlier now by Kazan's memory of that night at the +top of the Sun Rock. + +Instinct told the fisher-cat what was coming, and it crouched low and +flat; the porcupines, scolding like little children at the presence of +enemies and the thickening clouds of smoke, thrust their quills still +more erect. The lynx lay on its belly, like a cat, its hindquarters +twitching, and gathered for the spring. Kazan's feet seemed scarcely to +touch the sand as he circled lightly around it. The lynx pivoted as he +circled, and then it shot in a round snarling ball over the eight feet +of space that separated them. + +Kazan did not leap aside. He made no effort to escape the attack, but +met it fairly with the full force of his shoulders, as sledge-dog meets +sledge-dog. He was ten pounds heavier than the lynx, and for a moment +the big loose-jointed cat with its twenty knife-like claws was thrown +on its side. Like a flash Kazan took advantage of the moment, and drove +for the back of the cat's neck. + +In that same moment blind Gray Wolf leaped in with a snarling cry, and +fighting under Kazan's belly, she fastened her jaws in one of the cat's +hindlegs. The bone snapped. The lynx, twice outweighed, leaped backward, +dragging both Kazan and Gray Wolf. It fell back down on one of the +porcupines, and a hundred quills drove into its body. Another leap and +it was free--fleeing into the face of the smoke. Kazan did not pursue. +Gray Wolf came to his side and licked his neck, where fresh blood was +crimsoning his tawny hide. The fisher-cat lay as if dead, watching them +with fierce little black eyes. The porcupines continued to chatter, as +if begging for mercy. And then a thick black suffocating pall of smoke +drove low over the sand-bar and with it came air that was furnace-hot. + +At the uttermost end of the sand-bar Kazan and Gray Wolf rolled +themselves into balls and thrust their heads under their bodies. The +fire was very near now. The roar of it was like that of a great +cataract, with now and then a louder crash of falling trees. The air +was filled with ash and burning sparks, and twice Kazan drew forth his +head to snap at blazing embers that fell upon and seared him like hot +irons. + +Close along the edge of the stream grew thick green bush, and when the +fire reached this, it burned more slowly, and the heat grew less. Still, +it was a long time before Kazan and Gray Wolf could draw forth their +heads and breathe more freely. Then they found that the finger of sand +reaching out into the river had saved them. Everywhere in that triangle +between the two rivers the world had turned black, and was hot +underfoot. + +The smoke cleared away. The wind changed again, and swung down cool and +fresh from the west and north. The fisher-cat was the first to move +cautiously back to the forests that had been, but the porcupines were +still rolled into balls when Gray Wolf and Kazan left the sand-bar. They +began to travel up-stream, and before night came, their feet were sore +from hot ash and burning embers. + +The moon was strange and foreboding that night, like a spatter of blood +in the sky, and through the long silent hours there was not even the +hoot of an owl to give a sign that life still existed where yesterday +had been a paradise of wild things. Kazan knew that there was nothing to +hunt, and they continued to travel all that night. With dawn they struck +a narrow swamp along the edge of the stream. Here beavers had built a +dam, and they were able to cross over into the green country on the +opposite side. For another day and another night they traveled westward, +and this brought them into the thick country of swamp and timber along +the Waterfound. + +And as Kazan and Gray Wolf came from the west, there came from the +Hudson's Bay post to the east a slim dark-faced French half-breed by the +name of Henri Loti, the most famous lynx hunter in all the Hudson's Bay +country. He was prospecting for "signs," and he found them in abundance +along the Waterfound. It was a game paradise, and the snow-shoe rabbit +abounded in thousands. As a consequence, the lynxes were thick, and +Henri built his trapping shack, and then returned to the post to wait +until the first snows fell, when he would come back with his team, +supplies and traps. + +And up from the south, at this same time, there was slowly working his +way by canoe and trail a young university zoologist who was gathering +material for a book on _The Reasoning of the Wild_. His name was Paul +Weyman, and he had made arrangements to spend a part of the winter with +Henri Loti, the half-breed. He brought with him plenty of paper, a +camera and the photograph of a girl. His only weapon was a pocket-knife. + +And meanwhile Kazan and Gray Wolf found the home they were seeking in a +thick swamp five or six miles from the cabin that Henri Loti had built. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + +It was January when a guide from the post brought Paul Weyman to Henri +Loti's cabin on the Waterfound. He was a man of thirty-two or three, +full of the red-blooded life that made Henri like him at once. If this +had not been the case, the first few days in the cabin might have been +unpleasant, for Henri was in bad humor. He told Weyman about it their +first night, as they were smoking pipes alongside the redly glowing box +stove. + +"It is damn strange," said Henri. "I have lost seven lynx in the traps, +torn to pieces like they were no more than rabbits that the foxes had +killed. No thing--not even bear--have ever tackled lynx in a trap +before. It is the first time I ever see it. And they are torn up so bad +they are not worth one half dollar at the post. Seven!--that is over two +hundred dollar I have lost! There are two wolves who do it. Two--I know +it by the tracks--always two--an'--never one. They follow my trap-line +an' eat the rabbits I catch. They leave the fisher-cat, an' the mink, +an' the ermine, an' the marten; but the lynx--_sacre_ an' damn!--they +jump on him an' pull the fur from him like you pull the wild cotton +balls from the burn-bush! I have tried strychnine in deer fat, an' I +have set traps and deadfalls, but I can not catch them. They will drive +me out unless I get them, for I have taken only five good lynx, an' they +have destroyed seven." + +This roused Weyman. He was one of that growing number of thoughtful men +who believe that man's egoism, as a race, blinds him to many of the more +wonderful facts of creation. He had thrown down the gantlet, and with a +logic that had gained him a nation-wide hearing, to those who believed +that man was the only living creature who could reason, and that common +sense and cleverness when displayed by any other breathing thing were +merely instinct. The facts behind Henri's tale of woe struck him as +important, and until midnight they talked about the two strange wolves. + +"There is one big wolf an' one smaller," said Henri. "An' it is always +the big wolf who goes in an' fights the lynx. I see that by the snow. +While he's fighting, the smaller wolf makes many tracks in the snow just +out of reach, an' then when the lynx is down, or dead, it jumps in an' +helps tear it into pieces. All that I know by the snow. Only once have I +seen where the smaller one went in an' fought with the other, an' then +there was blood all about that was not lynx blood; I trailed the devils +a mile by the dripping." + +During the two weeks that followed, Weyman found much to add to the +material of his book. Not a day passed that somewhere along Henri's +trap-line they did not see the trails of the two wolves, and Weyman +observed that--as Henri had told him--the footprints were always two by +two, and never one by one. On the third day they came to a trap that had +held a lynx, and at sight of what remained Henri cursed in both French +and English until he was purple in the face. The lynx had been torn +until its pelt was practically worthless. + +Weyman saw where the smaller wolf had waited on its haunches, while its +companion had killed the lynx. He did not tell Henri all he thought. But +the days that followed convinced him more and more that he had found the +most dramatic exemplification of his theory. Back of this mysterious +tragedy of the trap-line there was a _reason_. + +Why did the two wolves not destroy the fisher-cat, the ermine and the +marten? Why was their feud with the lynx alone? + +Weyman was strangely thrilled. He was a lover of wild things, and for +that reason he never carried a gun. And when he saw Henri placing +poison-baits for the two marauders, he shuddered, and when, day after +day, he saw that these poison-baits were untouched, he rejoiced. +Something in his own nature went out in sympathy to the heroic outlaw of +the trap-line who never failed to give battle to the lynx. Nights in the +cabin he wrote down his thoughts and discoveries of the day. One night +he turned suddenly on Henri. + +"Henri, doesn't it ever make you sorry to kill so many wild things?" he +asked. + +Henri stared and shook his head. + +"I kill t'ousand an' t'ousand," he said. "I kill t'ousand more." + +"And there are twenty thousand others just like you in this northern +quarter of the continent--all killing, killing for hundreds of years +back, and yet you can't kill out wild life. The war of Man and the +Beast, you might call it. And, if you could return five hundred years +from now, Henri, you'd still find wild life here. Nearly all the rest of +the world is changing, but you can't change these almost impenetrable +thousands of square miles of ridges and swamps and forests. The +railroads won't come here, and I, for one, thank God for that. Take all +the great prairies to the west, for instance. Why, the old buffalo +trails are still there, plain as day--and yet, towns and cities are +growing up everywhere. Did you ever hear of North Battleford?" + +"Is she near Montreal or Quebec?" Henri asked. + +Weyman smiled, and drew a photograph from his pocket. It was the picture +of a girl. + +"No. It's far to the west, in Saskatchewan. Seven years ago I used to +go up there every year, to shoot prairie chickens, coyotes and elk. +There wasn't any North Battleford then--just the glorious prairie, +hundreds and hundreds of square miles of it. There was a single shack on +the Saskatchewan River, where North Battleford now stands, and I used to +stay there. In that shack there was a little girl, twelve years old. We +used to go out hunting together--for I used to kill things in those +days. And the little girl would cry sometimes when I killed, and I'd +laugh at her. + +"Then a railroad came, and then another, and they joined near the shack, +and all at once a town sprang up. Seven years ago there was only the +shack there, Henri. Two years ago there were eighteen hundred people. +This year, when I came through, there were five thousand, and two years +from now there'll be ten thousand. + +"On the ground where that shack stood are three banks, with a capital of +forty million dollars; you can see the glow of the electric lights of +the city twenty miles away. It has a hundred-thousand dollar college, a +high school, the provincial asylum, a fire department, two clubs, a +board of trade, and it's going to have a street-car line within two +years. Think of that--all where the coyotes howled a few years ago! + +"People are coming in so fast that they can't keep a census. Five years +from now there'll be a city of twenty thousand where the old shack +stood. And the little girl in that shack, Henri--she's a young lady now, +and her people are--well, rich. I don't care about that. The chief thing +is that she is going to marry me in the spring. Because of her I stopped +killing things when she was only sixteen. The last thing I killed was a +prairie wolf, and it had young. Eileen kept the little puppy. She's got +it now--tamed. That's why above all other wild things I love the wolves. +And I hope these two leave your trap-line safe." + +Henri was staring at him. Weyman gave him the picture. It was of a +sweet-faced girl, with deep pure eyes, and there came a twitch at the +corners of Henri's mouth as he looked at it. + +"My Iowaka died t'ree year ago," he said. "She too loved the wild +thing. But them wolf--damn! They drive me out if I can not kill them!" +He put fresh fuel into the stove, and prepared for bed. + +One day the big idea came to Henri. + +Weyman was with him when they struck fresh signs of lynx. There was a +great windfall ten or fifteen feet high, and in one place the logs had +formed a sort of cavern, with almost solid walls on three sides. The +snow was beaten down by tracks, and the fur of rabbit was scattered +about. Henri was jubilant. + +"We got heem--sure!" he said. + +He built the bait-house, set a trap and looked about him shrewdly. Then +he explained his scheme to Weyman. If the lynx was caught, and the two +wolves came to destroy it, the fight would take place in that shelter +under the windfall, and the marauders would have to pass through the +opening. So Henri set five smaller traps, concealing them skilfully +under leaves and moss and snow, and all were far enough away from the +bait-house so that the trapped lynx could not spring them in his +struggles. + +"When they fight, wolf jump this way an' that--an' sure get in," said +Henri. "He miss one, two, t'ree--but he sure get in trap somewhere." + +That same morning a light snow fell, making the work more complete, for +it covered up all footprints and buried the telltale scent of man. That +night Kazan and Gray Wolf passed within a hundred feet of the windfall, +and Gray Wolf's keen scent detected something strange and disquieting in +the air. She informed Kazan by pressing her shoulder against his, and +they swung off at right angles, keeping to windward of the trap-line. + +For two days and three cold starlit nights nothing happened at the +windfall. Henri understood, and explained to Weyman. The lynx was a +hunter, like himself, and also had its hunt-line, which it covered about +once a week. On the fifth night the lynx returned, went to the windfall, +was lured straight to the bait, and the sharp-toothed steel trap closed +relentlessly over its right hindfoot. Kazan and Gray Wolf were traveling +a quarter of a mile deeper in the forest when they heard the clanking of +the steel chain as the lynx fought; to free itself. Ten minutes later +they stood in the door of the windfall cavern. + +It was a white clear night, so filled with brilliant stars that Henri +himself could have hunted by the light of them. The lynx had exhausted +itself, and lay crouching on its belly as Kazan and Gray Wolf appeared. +As usual, Gray Wolf held back while Kazan began the battle. In the first +or second of these fights on the trap-line, Kazan would probably have +been disemboweled or had his jugular vein cut open, had the fierce cats +been free. They were more than his match in open fight, though the +biggest of them fell ten pounds under his weight. Chance had saved him +on the Sun Rock. Gray Wolf and the porcupine had both added to the +defeat of the lynx on the sand-bar. And along Henri's hunting line it +was the trap that was his ally. Even with his enemy thus shackled he +took big chances. And he took bigger chances than ever with the lynx +under the windfall. + +The cat was an old warrior, six or seven years old. His claws were an +inch and a quarter long, and curved like simitars. His forefeet and his +left hindfoot were free, and as Kazan advanced, he drew back, so that +the trap-chain was slack under his body. Here Kazan could not follow his +old tactics of circling about his trapped foe, until it had become +tangled in the chain, or had so shortened and twisted it that there was +no chance for a leap. He had to attack face to face, and suddenly he +lunged in. They met shoulder to shoulder. Kazan's fangs snapped at the +other's throat, and missed. Before he could strike again, the lynx flung +out its free hindfoot, and even Gray Wolf heard the ripping sound that +it made. With a snarl Kazan was flung back, his shoulder torn to the +bone. + +Then it was that one of Henri's hidden traps saved him from a second +attack--and death. Steel jaws snapped over one of his forefeet, and when +he leaped, the chain stopped him. Once or twice before, blind Gray Wolf +had leaped in, when she knew that Kazan was in great danger. For an +instant she forgot her caution now, and as she heard Kazan's snarl of +pain, she sprang in under the windfall. Five traps Henri had hidden in +the space in front of the bait-house, and Gray Wolf's feet found two of +these. She fell on her side, snapping and snarling. In his struggles +Kazan sprung the remaining two traps. One of them missed. The fifth, and +last, caught him by a hindfoot. + +This was a little past midnight. From then until morning the earth and +snow under the windfall were torn up by the struggles of the wolf, the +dog and the lynx to regain their freedom. And when morning came, all +three were exhausted, and lay on their sides, panting and with bleeding +jaws, waiting for the coming of man--and death. + +Henri and Weyman were out early. When they struck off the main line +toward the windfall, Henri pointed to the tracks of Kazan and Gray Wolf, +and his dark face lighted up with pleasure and excitement. When they +reached the shelter under the mass of fallen timber, both stood +speechless for a moment, astounded by what they saw. Even Henri had seen +nothing like this before--two wolves and a lynx, all in traps, and +almost within reach of one another's fangs. But surprise could not long +delay the business of Henri's hunter's instinct. The wolves lay first in +his path, and he was raising his rifle to put a steel-capped bullet +through the base of Kazan's brain, when Weyman caught him eagerly by the +arm. Weyman was staring. His fingers dug into Henri's flesh. His eyes +had caught a glimpse of the steel-studded collar about Kazan's neck. + +"Wait!" he cried. "It's not a wolf. It's a dog!" + +Henri lowered his rifle, staring at the collar. Weyman's eyes shot to +Gray Wolf. She was facing them, snarling, her white fangs bared to the +foes she could not see. Her blind eyes were closed. Where there should +have been eyes there was only hair, and an exclamation broke from +Weyman's lips. + +"Look!" he commanded of Henri. "What in the name of heaven--" + +"One is dog--wild dog that has run to the wolves," said Henri. "And the +other is--wolf." + +"And _blind_!" gasped Weyman. + +"_Oui_, blind, m'sieur," added Henri, falling partly into French in his +amazement. He was raising his rifle again. Weyman seized it firmly. + +[Illustration: "Wait! it's not a wolf!"] + +"Don't kill them, Henri," he said. "Give them to me--alive. Figure up +the value of the lynx they have destroyed, and add to that the wolf +bounty, and I will pay. Alive, they are worth to me a great deal. My +God, a dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" + +He still held Henri's rifle, and Henri was staring at him, as if he did +not yet quite understand. + +Weyman continued speaking, his eyes and face blazing. + +"A dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" he repeated. "It is wonderful, +Henri. Down there, they will say I have gone beyond _reason_, when my +book comes out. But I shall have proof. I shall take twenty photographs +here, before you kill the lynx. I shall keep the dog and the wolf alive. +And I shall pay you, Henri, a hundred dollars apiece for the two. May I +have them?" + +Henri nodded. He held his rifle in readiness, while Weyman unpacked his +camera and got to work. Snarling fangs greeted the click of the +camera-shutter--the fangs of wolf and lynx. But Kazan lay cringing, not +through fear, but because he still recognized the mastery of man. And +when he had finished with his pictures, Weyman approached almost within +reach of him, and spoke even more kindly to him than the man who had +lived back in the deserted cabin. + +Henri shot the lynx, and when Kazan understood this, he tore at the end +of his trap-chains and snarled at the writhing body of his forest enemy. +By means of a pole and a babiche noose, Kazan was brought out from under +the windfall and taken to Henri's cabin. The two men then returned with +a thick sack and more babiche, and blind Gray Wolf, still fettered by +the traps, was made prisoner. All the rest of that day Weyman and Henri +worked to build a stout cage of saplings, and when it was finished, the +two prisoners were placed in it. + +Before the dog was put in with Gray Wolf, Weyman closely examined the +worn and tooth-marked collar about his neck. + +On the brass plate he found engraved the one word, "Kazan," and with a +strange thrill made note of it in his diary. + +After this Weyman often remained at the cabin when Henri went out on the +trap-line. After the second day he dared to put his hand between the +sapling bars and touch Kazan, and the next day Kazan accepted a piece of +raw moose meat from his hand. But at his approach, Gray Wolf would +always hide under the pile of balsam in the corner of their prison. The +instinct of generations and perhaps of centuries had taught her that man +was her deadliest enemy. And yet, this man did not hurt her, and Kazan +was not afraid of him. She was frightened at first; then puzzled, and a +growing curiosity followed that. Occasionally, after the third day, she +would thrust her blind face out of the balsam and sniff the air when +Weyman was at the cage, making friends with Kazan. But she would not +eat. Weyman noted that, and each day he tempted her with the choicest +morsels of deer and moose fat. Five days--six--seven passed, and she had +not taken a mouthful. Weyman could count her ribs. + +"She die," Henri told him on the seventh night. "She starve before she +eat in that cage. She want the forest, the wild kill, the fresh blood. +She two--t'ree year old--too old to make civilize." + +Henri went to bed at the usual hour, but Weyman was troubled, and sat +up late. He wrote a long letter to the sweet-faced girl at North +Battleford, and then he turned out the light, and painted visions of her +in the red glow of the fire. He saw her again for that first time when +he camped in the little shack where the fifth city of Saskatchewan now +stood--with her blue eyes, the big shining braid, and the fresh glow of +the prairies in her cheeks. She had hated him--yes, actually hated him, +because he loved to kill. He laughed softly as he thought of that. She +had changed him--wonderfully. + +He rose, opened the door, softly, and went out. Instinctively his eyes +turned westward. The sky was a blaze of stars. In their light he could +see the cage, and he stood, watching and listening. A sound came to him. +It was Gray Wolf gnawing at the sapling bars of her prison. A moment +later there came a low sobbing whine, and he knew that it was Kazan +crying for his freedom. + +Leaning against the side of the cabin was an ax. Weyman seized it, and +his lips smiled silently. He was thrilled by a strange happiness, and a +thousand miles away in that city on the Saskatchewan he could feel +another spirit rejoicing with him. He moved toward the cage. A dozen +blows, and two of the sapling bars were knocked out. Then Weyman drew +back. Gray Wolf found the opening first, and she slipped out into the +starlight like a shadow. But she did not flee. Out in the open space she +waited for Kazan, and for a moment the two stood there, looking at the +cabin. Then they set off into freedom, Gray Wolf's shoulder at Kazan's +flank. + +Weyman breathed deeply. + +"Two by two--always two by two, until death finds one of them," he +whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RED DEATH + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf wandered northward into the Fond du Lac country, and +were there when Jacques, a Hudson Bay Company's runner, came up to the +post from the south with the first authentic news of the dread +plague--the smallpox. For weeks there had been rumors on all sides. And +rumor grew into rumor. From the east, the south and the west they +multiplied, until on all sides the Paul Reveres of the wilderness were +carrying word that _La Mort Rouge_--the Red Death--was at their heels, +and the chill of a great fear swept like a shivering wind from the edge +of civilization to the bay. Nineteen years before these same rumors had +come up from the south, and the Red Terror had followed. The horror of +it still remained with the forest people, for a thousand unmarked +graves, shunned like a pestilence, and scattered from the lower waters +of James Bay to the lake country of the Athabasca, gave evidence of the +toll it demanded. + +Now and then in their wanderings Kazan and Gray Wolf had come upon the +little mounds that covered the dead. Instinct--something that was +infinitely beyond the comprehension of man--made them _feel_ the +presence of death about them, perhaps smell it in the air. Gray Wolf's +wild blood and her blindness gave her an immense advantage over Kazan +when it came to detecting those mysteries of the air and the earth which +the eyes were not made to see. Each day that had followed that terrible +moonlit night on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded her, had added +to the infallibility of her two chief senses--hearing and scent. And it +was she who discovered the presence of the plague first, just as she had +scented the great forest fire hours before Kazan had found it in the +air. + +Kazan had lured her back to a trap-line. The trail they found was old. +It had not been traveled for many days. In a trap they found a rabbit, +but it had been dead a long time. In another there was the carcass of a +fox, torn into bits by the owls. Most of the traps were sprung. Others +were covered with snow. Kazan, with his three-quarters strain of dog, +ran over the trail from trap to trap, intent only on something +alive--meat to devour. Gray Wolf, in her blindness, scented _death_. It +shivered in the tree-tops above her. She found it in every trap-house +they came to--death--_man death_. It grew stronger and stronger, and +she whined, and nipped Kazan's flank. And Kazan went on. Gray Wolf +followed him to the edge of the clearing in which Loti's cabin stood, +and then she sat back on her haunches, raised her blind face to the gray +sky, and gave a long and wailing cry. In that moment the bristles began +to stand up along Kazan's spine. Once, long ago, he had howled before +the tepee of a master who was newly dead, and he settled back on his +haunches, and gave the death-cry with Gray Wolf. He, too, scented it +now. Death was in the cabin, and over the cabin there stood a sapling +pole, and at the end of the pole there fluttered a strip of red cotton +rag--the warning flag of the plague from Athabasca to the bay. This man, +like a hundred other heroes of the North, had run up the warning before +he laid himself down to die. And that same night, in the cold light of +the moon, Kazan and Gray Wolf swung northward into the country of the +Fond du Lac. + +There preceded them a messenger from the post on Reindeer Lake, who was +passing up the warning that had come from Nelson House and the country +to the southeast. + +"There's smallpox on the Nelson," the messenger informed Williams, at +Fond du Lac, "and it has struck the Crees on Wollaston Lake. God only +knows what it is doing to the Bay Indians, but we hear it is wiping out +the Chippewas between the Albany and the Churchill." He left the same +day with his winded dogs. "I'm off to carry word to the Reveillon people +to the west," he explained. + +Three days later, word came from Churchill that all of the company's +servants and his majesty's subjects west of the bay should prepare +themselves for the coming of the Red Terror. Williams' thin face turned +as white as the paper he held, as he read the words of the Churchill +factor. + +"It means dig graves," he said. "That's the only preparation we can +make." + +He read the paper aloud to the men at Fond du Lac, and every available +man was detailed to spread the warning throughout the post's territory. +There was a quick harnessing of dogs, and on each sledge that went out +was a roll of red cotton cloth--rolls that were ominous of death, lurid +signals of pestilence and horror, whose touch sent shuddering chills +through the men who were about to scatter them among the forest people. +Kazan and Gray Wolf struck the trail of one of these sledges on the Gray +Beaver, and followed it for half a mile. The next day, farther to the +west, they struck another, and on the fourth day still a third. The last +trail was fresh, and Gray Wolf drew back from it as if stung, her fangs +snarling. On the wind there came to them the pungent odor of smoke. They +cut at right angles to the trail, Gray Wolf leaping clear of the marks +in the snow, and climbed to the cap of a ridge. To windward of them, and +down in the plain, a cabin was burning. A team of huskies and a man were +disappearing in the spruce forest. Deep down in his throat Kazan gave a +rumbling whine. Gray Wolf stood as rigid as a rock. In the cabin a +plague-dead man was burning. It was the law of the North. And the +mystery of the funeral pyre came again to Kazan and Gray Wolf. This time +they did not howl, but slunk down into the farther plain, and did not +stop that day until they had buried themselves deep in a dry and +sheltered swamp ten miles to the north. + +After this they followed the days and weeks which marked the winter of +nineteen hundred and ten as one of the most terrible in all the history +of the Northland--a single month in which wild life as well as human +hung in the balance, and when cold, starvation and plague wrote a +chapter in the lives of the forest people which will not be forgotten +for generations to come. + +In the swamp Kazan and Gray Wolf found a home under a windfall. It was a +small comfortable nest, shut in entirely from the snow and wind. Gray +Wolf took possession of it immediately. She flattened herself out on her +belly, and panted to show Kazan her contentment and satisfaction. Nature +again kept Kazan close at her side. A vision came to him, unreal and +dream-like, of that wonderful night under the stars--ages and ages ago, +it seemed--when he had fought the leader of the wolf-pack, and young +Gray Wolf had crept to his side after his victory and had given herself +to him for mate. But this mating season there was no running after the +doe or the caribou, or mingling with the wild pack. They lived chiefly +on rabbit and spruce partridge, because of Gray Wolf's blindness. Kazan +could hunt those alone. The hair had now grown over Gray Wolf's +sightless eyes. She had ceased to grieve, to rub her eyes with her paws, +to whine for the sunlight, the golden moon and the stars. Slowly she +began to forget that she had ever seen those things. She could now run +more swiftly at Kazan's flank. Scent and hearing had become wonderfully +keen. She could wind a caribou two miles distant, and the presence of +man she could pick up at an even greater distance. On a still night she +had heard the splash of a trout half a mile away. And as these two +things--scent and hearing--became more and more developed in her, those +same senses became less active in Kazan. + +He began to depend upon Gray Wolf. She would point out the hiding-place +of a partridge fifty yards from their trail. In their hunts she became +the leader--until game was found. And as Kazan learned to trust to her +in the hunt, so he began just as instinctively to heed her warnings. If +Gray Wolf reasoned, it was to the effect that without Kazan she would +die. She had tried hard now and then to catch a partridge, or a rabbit, +but she had always failed. Kazan meant life to her. And--if she +reasoned--it was to make herself indispensable to her mate. Blindness +had made her different than she would otherwise have been. Again nature +promised motherhood to her. But she did not--as she would have done in +the open, and with sight--hold more and more aloof from Kazan as the +days passed. It was her habit, spring, summer and winter, to snuggle +close to Kazan and lie with her beautiful head resting on his neck or +back. If Kazan snarled at her she did not snap back, but slunk down as +though struck a blow. With her warm tongue she would lick away the ice +that froze to the long hair between Kazan's toes. For days after he had +run a sliver in his paw she nursed his foot. Blindness had made Kazan +absolutely necessary to her existence--and now, in a different way, she +became more and more necessary to Kazan. They were happy in their swamp +home. There was plenty of small game about them, and it was warm under +the windfall. Rarely did they go beyond the limits of the swamp to hunt. +Out on the more distant plains and the barren ridges they occasionally +heard the cry of the wolf-pack on the trail of meat, but it no longer +thrilled them with a desire to join in the chase. + +One day they struck farther than usual to the west. They left the swamp, +crossed a plain over which a fire had swept the preceding year, climbed +a ridge, and descended into a second plain. At the bottom Gray Wolf +stopped and sniffed the air. At these times Kazan always watched her, +waiting eagerly and nervously if the scent was too faint for him to +catch. But to-day he caught the edge of it, and he knew why Gray Wolf's +ears flattened, and her hindquarters drooped. The scent of game would +have made her rigid and alert. But it was not the game smell. It was +human, and Gray Wolf slunk behind Kazan and whined. For several minutes +they stood without moving or making a sound, and then Kazan led the way +on. Less than three hundred yards away they came to a thick clump of +scrub spruce, and almost ran into a snow-smothered tepee. It was +abandoned. Life and fire had not been there for a long time. But from +the tepee had come the man-smell. With legs rigid and his spine +quivering Kazan approached the opening to the tepee. He looked in. In +the middle of the tepee, lying on the charred embers of a fire, lay a +ragged blanket--and in the blanket was wrapped the body of a little +Indian child. Kazan could see the tiny moccasined feet. But so long had +death been there that he could scarcely smell the presence of it. He +drew back, and saw Gray Wolf cautiously nosing about a long and +peculiarly shaped hummock in the snow. She had traveled about it three +times, but never approaching nearer than a man could have reached with a +rifle barrel. At the end of her third circle she sat down on her +haunches, and Kazan went close to the hummock and sniffed. Under that +bulge in the snow, as well as in the tepee, there was death. They slunk +away, their ears flattened and their tails drooping until they trailed +the snow, and did not stop until they reached their swamp home. Even +there Gray Wolf still sniffed the horror of the plague, and her muscles +twitched and shivered as she lay close at Kazan's side. + +That night the big white moon had around its edge a crimson rim. It +meant cold--intense cold. Always the plague came in the days of greatest +cold--the lower the temperature the more terrible its havoc. It grew +steadily colder that night, and the increased chill penetrated to the +heart of the windfall, and drew Kazan and Gray Wolf closer together. +With dawn, which came at about eight o'clock, Kazan and his blind mate +sallied forth into the day. It was fifty degrees below zero. About them +the trees cracked with reports like pistol-shots. In the thickest spruce +the partridges were humped into round balls of feathers. The snow-shoe +rabbits had burrowed deep under the snow or to the heart of the heaviest +windfalls. Kazan and Gray Wolf found few fresh trails, and after an +hour of fruitless hunting they returned to their lair. Kazan, dog-like, +had buried the half of a rabbit two or three days before, and they dug +this out of the snow and ate the frozen flesh. + +All that day it grew colder--steadily colder. The night that followed +was cloudless, with a white moon and brilliant stars. The temperature +had fallen another ten degrees, and nothing was moving. Traps were never +sprung on such nights, for even the furred things--the mink, and the +ermine, and the lynx--lay snug in the holes and the nests they had found +for themselves. An increasing hunger was not strong enough to drive +Kazan and Gray Wolf from their windfall. The next day there was no break +in the terrible cold, and toward noon Kazan set out on a hunt for meat, +leaving Gray Wolf in the windfall. Being three-quarters dog, food was +more necessary to Kazan than to his mate. Nature has fitted the +wolf-breed for famine, and in ordinary temperature Gray Wolf could have +lived for a fortnight without food. At sixty degrees below zero she +could exist a week, perhaps ten days. Only thirty hours had passed +sinee they had devoured the last of the frozen rabbit, and she was quite +satisfied to remain in their snug retreat. + +But Kazan was hungry. He began to hunt in the face of the wind, +traveling toward the burned plain. He nosed about every windfall that he +came to, and investigated the thickets. A thin shot-like snow had +fallen, and in this--from the windfall to the burn--he found but a +single trail, and that was the trail of an ermine. Under a windfall he +caught the warm scent of a rabbit, but the rabbit was as safe from him +there as were the partridges in the trees, and after an hour of futile +digging and gnawing he gave up his effort to reach it. For three hours +he had hunted when he returned to Gray Wolf. He was exhausted. While +Gray Wolf, with the instinct of the wild, had saved her own strength and +energy, Kazan had been burning up his reserve forces, and was hungrier +than ever. + +The moon rose clear and brilliant in the sky again that night, and Kazan +set out once more on the hunt. He urged Gray Wolf to accompany him, +whining for her outside the windfall--returning for her twice--but +Gray Wolf laid her ears aslant and refused to move. The temperature had +now fallen to sixty-five or seventy degrees below zero, and with it +there came from the north an increasing wind, making the night one in +which human life could not have existed for an hour. By midnight Kazan +was back under the windfall. The wind grew stronger. It began to wail in +mournful dirges over the swamp, and then it burst in fierce shrieking +volleys, with intervals of quiet between. These were the first warnings +from the great barrens that lay between the last lines of timber and the +Arctic. With morning the storm burst in all its fury from out of the +north, and Gray Wolf and Kazan lay close together and shivered as they +listened to the roar of it over the windfall. Once Kazan thrust his head +and shoulders out from the shelter of the fallen trees, but the storm +drove him back. Everything that possessed life had sought shelter, +according to its way and instinct. The furred creatures like the mink +and the ermine were safest, for during the warmer hunting days they were +of the kind that cached meat. The wolves and the foxes had sought out +the windfalls, and the rocks. Winged things, with the exception of the +owls, who were a tenth part body and nine-tenths feathers, burrowed +under snow-drifts or found shelter in thick spruce. To the hoofed and +horned animals the storm meant greatest havoc. The deer, the caribou and +the moose could not crawl under windfalls or creep between rocks. The +best they could do was to lie down in the lee of a drift, and allow +themselves to be covered deep with the protecting snow. Even then they +could not keep their shelter long, for they had to _eat_. For eighteen +hours out of the twenty-four the moose had to feed to keep himself alive +during the winter. His big stomach demanded quantity, and it took him +most of his time to nibble from the tops of bushes the two or three +bushels he needed a day. The caribou required almost as much--the deer +least of the three. + +And the storm kept up that day, and the next, and still a third--three +days and three nights--and the third day and night there came with it a +stinging, shot-like snow that fell two feet deep on the level, and in +drifts of eight and ten. It was the "heavy snow" of the Indians--the +snow that lay like lead on the earth, and under which partridges and +rabbits were smothered in thousands. + +On the fourth day after the beginning of the storm Kazan and Gray Wolf +issued forth from the windfall. There was no longer a wind--no more +falling snow. The whole world lay under a blanket of unbroken white, and +it was intensely cold. + +The plague had worked its havoc with men. Now had come the days of +famine and death for the wild things. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf had been a hundred and forty hours without food. To +Gray Wolf this meant acute discomfort, a growing weakness. To Kazan it +was starvation. Six days and six nights of fasting had drawn in their +ribs and put deep hollows in front of their hindquarters. Kazan's eyes +were red, and they narrowed to slits as he looked forth into the day. +Gray Wolf followed him this time when he went out on the hard snow. +Eagerly and hopefully they began the hunt in the bitter cold. They swung +around the edge of the windfall, where there had always been rabbits. +There were no tracks now, and no scent. They continued in a horseshoe +circle through the swamp, and the only scent they caught was that of a +snow-owl perched up in a spruce. They came to the burn and turned back, +hunting the opposite side of the swamp. On this side there was a ridge. +They climbed the ridge, and from the cap of it looked out over a world +that was barren of life. Ceaselessly Gray Wolf sniffed the air, but she +gave no signal to Kazan. On the top of the ridge Kazan stood panting. +His endurance was gone. On their return through the swamp he stumbled +over an obstacle which he tried to clear with a jump. Hungrier and +weaker, they returned to the windfall. The night that followed was +clear, and brilliant with stars. They hunted the swamp again. Nothing +was moving--save one other creature, and that was a fox. Instinct told +them that it was futile to follow him. + +It was then that the old thought of the cabin returned to Kazan. Two +things the cabin had always meant to him--warmth and food. And far +beyond the ridge was the cabin, where he and Gray Wolf had howled at the +scent of death. He did not think of man--or of that mystery which he had +howled at. He thought only of the cabin, and the cabin had always meant +food. He set off in a straight line for the ridge, and Gray Wolf +followed. They crossed the ridge and the burn beyond, and entered the +edge of a second swamp. Kazan was hunting listlessly now. His head hung +low. His bushy tail dragged in the snow. He was intent on the +cabin--only the cabin. It was his last hope. But Gray Wolf was still +alert, taking in the wind, and lifting her head whenever Kazan stopped +to snuffle his chilled nose in the snow. At last it came--the scent! +Kazan had moved on, but he stopped when he found that Gray Wolf was not +following. All the strength that was in his starved body revealed itself +in a sudden rigid tenseness as he looked at his mate. Her forefeet were +planted firmly to the east; her slim gray head was reaching out for the +scent; her body trembled. + +Then--suddenly--they heard a sound, and with a whining cry Kazan set out +in its direction, with Gray Wolf at his flank. The scent grew stronger +and stronger in Gray Wolf's nostrils, and soon it came to Kazan. It was +not the scent of a rabbit or a partridge. It was big game. They +approached cautiously, keeping full in the wind. The swamp grew +thicker, the spruce more dense, and now--from a hundred yards ahead of +them--there came a crashing of locked and battling horns. Ten seconds +more they climbed over a snowdrift, and Kazan stopped and dropped flat +on his belly. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, her blind eyes +turned to what she could smell but could not see. + +Fifty yards from them a number of moose had gathered for shelter in the +thick spruce. They had eaten clear a space an acre in extent. The trees +were cropped bare as high as they could reach, and the snow was beaten +hard under their feet. There were six animals in the acre, two of them +bulls--and these bulls were fighting, while three cows and a yearling +were huddled in a group watching the mighty duel. Just before the storm +a young bull, sleek, three-quarters grown, and with the small compact +antlers of a four-year-old, had led the three cows and the yearling to +this sheltered spot among the spruce. Until last night he had been +master of the herd. During the night the older bull had invaded his +dominion. The invader was four times as old as the young bull. He was +half again as heavy. His huge palmate horns, knotted and irregular--but +massive--spoke of age. A warrior of a hundred fights, he had not +hesitated to give battle in his effort to rob the younger bull of his +home and family. Three times they had fought since dawn, and the +hard-trodden snow was red with blood. The smell of it came to Kazan's +and Gray Wolf's nostrils. Kazan sniffed hungrily. Queer sounds rolled up +and down in Gray Wolf's throat, and she licked her jaws. + +For a moment the two fighters drew a few yards apart, and stood with +lowered heads. The old bull had not yet won victory. The younger bull +represented youth and endurance; in the older bull those things were +pitted against craft, greater weight, maturer strength--and a head and +horns that were like a battering ram. But in that great hulk of the +older bull there was one other thing--age. His huge sides were panting. +His nostrils were as wide as bells. Then, as if some invisible spirit of +the arena had given the signal, the animals came together again. The +crash of their horns could have been heard half a mile away, and under +twelve hundred pounds of flesh and bone the younger hull went plunging +back upon his haunches. Then was when youth displayed itself. In an +instant he was up, and locking horns with his adversary. Twenty times he +had done this, and each attack had seemed filled with increasing +strength. And now, as if realizing that the last moments of the last +fight had come, he twisted the old bull's neck and fought as he had +never fought before. Kazan and Gray Wolf both heard the sharp crack that +followed--as if a dry stick had been stepped upon and broken. It was +February, and the hoofed animals were already beginning to shed their +horns--especially the older bulls, whose palmate growths drop first. +This fact gave victory to the younger bull in the blood-stained arena a +few yards from Gray Wolf and Kazan. From its socket in the old bull's +skull one of his huge antlers broke with that sharp snapping sound, and +in another moment four inches of stiletto-like horn buried itself back +of his foreleg. In an instant all hope and courage left him, and he +swung backward yard by yard, with the younger bull prodding his neck and +shoulders until blood dripped from him in little streams. At the edge +of the clearing he flung himself free and crashed off into the forest. + +The younger bull did not pursue. He tossed his head, and stood for a few +moments with heaving sides and dilated nostrils, facing in the direction +his vanquished foe had taken. Then he turned, and trotted back to the +still motionless cows and yearling. + +Kazan and Gray Wolf were quivering. Gray Wolf slunk back from the edge +of the clearing, and Kazan followed. No longer were they interested in +the cows and the young bull. From that clearing they had seen meat +driven forth--meat that was beaten in fight, and bleeding. Every +instinct of the wild pack returned to Gray Wolf now--and in Kazan the +mad desire to taste the blood he smelled. Swiftly they turned toward the +blood-stained trail of the old bull, and when they came to it they found +it spattered red. Kazan's jaws dripped as the hot scent drove the blood +like veins of fire through his weakened body. His eyes were reddened by +starvation, and in them there was a light now that they had never known +even in the days of the wolf-pack. + +He set off swiftly, almost forgetful of Gray Wolf. But his mate no +longer required his flank for guidance. With her nose close to the trail +she ran--ran as she had run in the long and thrilling hunts before +blindness came. Half a mile from the spruce thicket they came upon the +old bull. He had sought shelter behind a clump of balsam, and he stood +over a growing pool of blood in the snow. He was still breathing hard. +His massive head, grotesque now with its one antler, was drooping. +Flecks of blood dropped from his distended nostrils. Even then, with the +old bull weakened by starvation, exhaustion and loss of blood, a +wolf-pack would have hung back before attacking. Where they would have +hesitated, Kazan leaped in with a snarling cry. For an instant his fangs +sunk into the thick hide of the bull's throat. Then he was flung +back--twenty feet. Hunger gnawing at his vitals robbed him of all +caution, and he sprang to the attack again--full at the bull's +front--while Gray Wolf crept up unseen behind, seeking in her blindness +the vulnerable part which nature had not taught Kazan to find. + +This time Kazan was caught fairly on the broad palmate leaf of the +bull's antler, and he was flung back again, half stunned. In that same +moment Gray Wolf's long white teeth cut like knives through one of the +bull's rope-like hamstrings. For thirty seconds she kept the hold, while +the bull plunged wildly in his efforts to trample her underfoot. Kazan +was quick to learn, still quicker to be guided by Gray Wolf, and he +leaped in again, snapping for a hold on the bulging cord just above the +knee. He missed, and as he lunged forward on his shoulders Gray Wolf was +flung off. But she had accomplished her purpose. Beaten in open battle +with one of his kind, and now attacked by a still deadlier foe, the old +bull began to retreat. As he went, one hip sank under him at every step. +The tendon of his left leg was bitten half through. + +Without being able to see, Gray Wolf seemed to realize what had +happened. Again she was the pack-wolf--with all the old wolf strategy. +Twice flung back by the old bull's horn, Kazan knew better than to +attack openly again. Gray Wolf trotted after the bull, but he remained +behind for a moment to lick up hungrily mouthfuls of the blood-soaked +snow. Then he followed, and ran close against Gray Wolf's side, fifty +yards behind the bull. There was more blood in the trail now--a thin red +ribbon of it. Fifteen minutes later the bull stopped again, and faced +about, his great head lowered. His eyes were red. There was a droop to +his neck and shoulders that spoke no longer of the unconquerable +fighting spirit that had been a part of him for nearly a score of years. +No longer was he lord of the wilderness about him; no longer was there +defiance in the poise of his splendid head, or the flash of eager fire +in his bloodshot eyes. His breath came with a gasping sound that was +growing more and more distinct. A hunter would have known what it meant. +The stiletto-point of the younger bull's antler had gone home, and the +old bull's lungs were failing him. More than once Gray Wolf had heard +that sound in the early days of her hunting with the pack, and she +understood. Slowly she began to circle about the wounded monarch at a +distance of about twenty yards. Kazan kept at her side. + +Once--twice--twenty times they made that slow circle, and with each turn +they made the old bull turned, and his breath grew heavier and his head +drooped lower. Noon came, and was followed by the more intense cold of +the last half of the day. Twenty circles became a hundred--two +hundred--and more. Under Gray Wolf's and Kazan's feet the snow grew hard +in the path they made. Under the old bull's widespread hoofs the snow +was no longer white--but red. A thousand times before this unseen +tragedy of the wilderness had been enacted. It was an epoch of that life +where life itself means the survival of the fittest, where to live means +to kill, and to die means to perpetuate life. At last, in that steady +and deadly circling of Gray Wolf and Kazan, there came a time when the +old bull did not turn--then a second, a third and a fourth time, and +Gray Wolf seemed to know. With Kazan she drew back from the hard-beaten +trail, and they flattened themselves on their bellies under a dwarf +spruce--and waited. For many minutes the bull stood motionless, his +hamstrung quarter sinking lower and lower. And then with a deep +blood-choked gasp he sank down. + +For a long time Kazan and Gray Wolf did not move, and when at last they +returned to the beaten trail the bull's heavy head was resting on the +snow. Again they began to circle, and now the circle narrowed foot by +foot, until only ten yards--then nine--then eight--separated them from +their prey. The bull attempted to rise, and failed. Gray Wolf heard the +effort. She heard him sink back and suddenly she leaped in swiftly and +silently from behind. Her sharp fangs buried themselves in the bull's +nostrils, and with the first instinct of the husky, Kazan sprang for a +throat hold. This time he was not flung off. It was Gray Wolf's terrible +hold that gave him time to tear through the half-inch hide, and to bury +his teeth deeper and deeper, until at last they reached the jugular. A +gush of warm blood spurted into his face. But he did not let go. Just as +he had held to the jugular of his first buck on that moonlight night a +long time ago, so he held to the old bull now. It was Gray Wolf who +unclamped his jaws. She drew back, sniffing the air, listening. Then, +slowly, she raised her head, and through the frozen and starving +wilderness there went her wailing triumphant cry--the call to meat. + +For them the days of famine had passed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE RIGHT OF FANG + + +After the fight Kazan lay down exhausted in the blood-stained snow, +while faithful Gray Wolf, still filled with the endurance of her wild +wolf breed, tore fiercely at the thick skin on the bull's neck to lay +open the red flesh. When she had done this she did not eat, but ran to +Kazan's side and whined softly as she muzzled him with her nose. After +that they feasted, crouching side by side at the bull's neck and tearing +at the warm sweet flesh. + +The last pale light of the northern day was fading swiftly into night +when they drew back, gorged until there were no longer hollows in their +sides. The faint wind died away. The clouds that had hung in the sky +during the day drifted eastward, and the moon shone brilliant and clear. +For an hour the night continued to grow lighter. To the brilliance of +the moon and the stars there was added now the pale fires of the aurora +borealis, shivering and flashing over the Pole. + +Its hissing crackling monotone, like the creaking of steel +sledge-runners on frost-filled snow, came faintly to the ears of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. + +As yet they had not gone a hundred yards from the dead bull, and at the +first sound of that strange mystery in the northern skies they stopped +and listened to it, alert and suspicious. Then they laid their ears +aslant and trotted slowly back to the meat they had killed. Instinct +told them that it was theirs only by right of fang. They had fought to +kill it. And it was in the law of the wild that they would have to fight +to keep it. In good hunting days they would have gone on and wandered +under the moon and the stars. But long days and nights of starvation had +taught them something different now. + +On that clear and stormless night following the days of plague and +famine, a hundred thousand hungry creatures came out from their retreats +to hunt for food. For eighteen hundred miles east and west and a +thousand miles north and south, slim gaunt-bellied creatures hunted +under the moon and the stars. Something told Kazan and Gray Wolf that +this hunt was on, and never for an instant did they cease their +vigilance. At last they lay down at the edge of the spruce thicket, and +waited. Gray Wolf muzzled Kazan gently with her blind face. The uneasy +whine in her throat was a warning to him. Then she sniffed the air, and +listened--sniffed and listened. + +Suddenly every muscle in their bodies grew rigid. Something living had +passed near them, something that they could not see or hear, and +scarcely scent. It came again, as mysterious as a shadow, and then out +of the air there floated down as silently as a huge snowflake a great +white owl. Kazan saw the hungry winged creature settle on the bull's +shoulder. Like a flash he was out from his cover, Gray Wolf a yard +behind him. With an angry snarl he lunged at the white robber, and his +jaws snapped on empty air. His leap carried him clean over the bull. He +turned, but the owl was gone. + +Nearly all of his old strength had returned to him now. He trotted about +the bull, the hair along his spine bristling like a brush, his eyes +wide and menacing. He snarled at the still air. His jaws clicked, and he +sat back on his haunches and faced the blood-stained trail that the +moose had left before he died. Again that instinct as infallible as +reason told him that danger would come from there. + +Like a red ribbon the trail ran back through the wilderness. The little +swift-moving ermine were everywhere this night, looking like white rats +as they dodged about in the moonlight. They were first to find the +trail, and with all the ferocity of their blood-eating nature followed +it with quick exciting leaps. A fox caught the scent of it a quarter of +a mile to windward, and came nearer. From out of a deep windfall a +beady-eyed, thin-bellied fisher-cat came forth, and stopped with his +feet in the crimson ribbon. + +It was the fisher-cat that brought Kazan out; from under his cover of +spruce again. In the moonlight there was a sharp quick fight, a snarling +and scratching, a cat-like yowl of pain, and the fisher forgot his +hunger in flight. Kazan returned to Gray Wolf with a lacerated and +bleeding nose. Gray Wolf licked it sympathetically, while Kazan stood +rigid and listening. + +The fox swung swiftly away with the wind, warned by the sounds of +conflict. He was not a fighter, but a murderer who killed from behind, +and a little later he leaped upon an owl and tore it into bits for the +half-pound of flesh within the mass of feathers. + +But nothing could drive back those little white outlaws of the +wilderness--the ermine. They would have stolen between the feet of man +to get at the warm flesh and blood of the freshly killed bull. Kazan +hunted them savagely. They were too quick for him, more like elusive +flashes in the moonlight than things of life. They burrowed under the +old bull's body and fed while he raved and filled his mouth with snow. +Gray Wolf sat placidly on her haunches. The little ermine did not +trouble her, and after a time Kazan realized this, and flung himself +down beside her, panting and exhausted. + +For a long time after that the night was almost unbroken by sound. Once +in the far distance there came the cry of a wolf, and now and then, to +punctuate the deathly silence, the snow owl hooted in blood-curdling +protest from his home in the spruce-tops. The moon was straight above +the old bull when Gray Wolf scented the first real danger. Instantly she +gave the warning to Kazan and faced the bloody trail, her lithe body +quivering, her fangs gleaming in the starlight, a snarling whine in her +throat. Only in the face of their deadliest enemy, the lynx--the +terrible fighter who had blinded her long ago in that battle on the Sun +Rock!--did she give such warning as this to Kazan. He sprang ahead of +her, ready for battle even before he caught the scent of the gray +beautiful creature of death stealing over the trail. + +Then came the interruption. From a mile away there burst forth a single +fierce long-drawn howl. + +After all, that was the cry of the true master of the wilderness--the +wolf. It was the cry of hunger. It was the cry that sent men's blood +running more swiftly through their veins, that brought the moose and the +deer to their feet shivering in every limb--the cry that wailed like a +note of death through swamp and forest and over the snow-smothered +ridges until its faintest echoes reached for miles into the starlit +night. + +There was silence, and in that awesome stillness Kazan and Gray Wolf +stood shoulder to shoulder facing the cry, and in response to that cry +there worked within them a strange and mystic change, for what they had +heard was not a warning or a menace but the call of Brotherhood. Away +off there--beyond the lynx and the fox and the fisher-cat, were the +creatures of their kind, the wild-wolf pack, to which the right to all +flesh and blood was common--in which existed that savage socialism of +the wilderness, the Brotherhood of the Wolf. And Gray Wolf, setting back +on her haunches, sent forth the response to that cry--a wailing +triumphant note that told her hungry brethren there was feasting at the +end of the trail. + +And the lynx, between those two cries, sneaked off into the wide and +moonlit spaces of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + +On their haunches Kazan and Gray Wolf waited. Five minutes passed, +ten--fifteen--and Gray Wolf became uneasy. No response had followed her +call. Again she howled, with Kazan quivering and listening beside her, +and again there followed that dead stillness of the night. This was not +the way of the pack. She knew that it had not gone beyond the reach of +her voice and its silence puzzled her. And then in a flash it came to +them both that the pack, or the single wolf whose cry they had heard, +was very near them. The scent was warm. A few moments later Kazan saw a +moving object in the moonlight. It was followed by another, and still +another, until there were five slouching in a half-circle about them, +seventy yards away. Then they laid themselves flat in the snow and were +motionless. + +A snarl turned Kazan's eyes to Gray Wolf. His blind mate had drawn +back. Her white fangs gleamed menacingly in the starlight. Her ears were +flat. Kazan was puzzled. Why was she signaling danger to him when it was +the wolf, and not the lynx, out there in the snow? And why did the +wolves not come in and feast? Slowly he moved toward them, and Gray Wolf +called to him with her whine. He paid no attention to her, but went on, +stepping lightly, his head high in the air, his spine bristling. + +In the scent of the strangers, Kazan was catching something now that was +strangely familiar. It drew him toward them more swiftly and when at +last he stopped twenty yards from where the little group lay flattened +in the snow, his thick brush waved slightly. One of the animals sprang +up and approached. The others followed and in another moment Kazan was +in the midst of them, smelling and smelled, and wagging his tail. They +were dogs, and not wolves. + +In some lonely cabin in the wilderness their master had died, and they +had taken to the forests. They still bore signs of the sledge-traces. +About their necks were moose-hide collars. The hair was worn short at +their flanks, and one still dragged after him three feet of corded +babiche trace. Their eyes gleamed red and hungry in the glow of the moon +and the stars. They were thin, and gaunt and starved, and Kazan suddenly +turned and trotted ahead of them to the side of the dead bull. Then he +fell back and sat proudly on his haunches beside Gray Wolf, listening to +the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh as the starved pack +feasted. + +Gray Wolf slunk closer to Kazan. She muzzled his neck and Kazan gave her +a swift dog-like caress of his tongue, assuring her that all was well. +She flattened herself in the snow when the dogs had finished and came up +in their dog way to sniff at her, and make closer acquaintance with +Kazan. Kazan towered over her, guarding her. One huge red-eyed dog who +still dragged the bit of babiche trace muzzled Gray Wolf's soft neck for +a fraction of a second too long, and Kazan uttered a savage snarl of +warning. The dog drew back, and for a moment their fangs gleamed over +Gray Wolf's blind face. It was the Challenge of the Breed. + +The big husky was the leader of the pack, and if one of the other dogs +had snarled at him, as Kazan snarled he would have leaped at his throat. +But in Kazan, standing fierce and half wild over Gray Wolf, he +recognized none of the serfdom of the sledge-dogs. It was master facing +master; in Kazan it was more than that for he was Gray Wolf's mate. In +an instant more he would have leaped over her body to have fought for +her, more than for the right of leadership. But the big husky turned +away sullenly, growling, still snarling, and vented his rage by nipping +fiercely at the flank of one of his sledge-mates. + +Gray Wolf understood what had happened, though she could not see. She +shrank closer to Kazan. She knew that the moon and the stars had looked +down on that thing that always meant death--the challenge to the right +of mate. With her luring coyness, whining and softly muzzling his +shoulder and neck, she tried to draw Kazan away from the pad-beaten +circle in which the bull lay. Kazan's answer was an ominous rolling of +smothered thunder deep down in his throat. He lay down beside her, +licked her blind face swiftly, and faced the stranger dogs. + +The moon sank lower and lower and at last dropped behind the western +forests. The stars grew paler. One by one they faded from the sky and +after a time there followed the cold gray dawn of the North. In that +dawn the big husky leader rose from the hole he had made in the snow and +returned to the bull. Kazan, alert, was on his feet in an instant and +stood also close to the bull. The two circled ominously, their heads +lowered, their crests bristling. The husky drew away, and Kazan crouched +at the bull's neck and began tearing at the frozen flesh. He was not +hungry. But in this way he showed his right to the flesh, his defiance +of the right of the big husky. + +For a few seconds he forgot Gray Wolf. The husky had slipped back like a +shadow and now he stood again over Gray Wolf, sniffing her neck and +body. Then he whined. In that whine were the passion, the invitation, +the demand of the Wild. So quickly that the eye could scarcely follow +her movement faithful Gray Wolf sank her gleaming fangs in the husky's +shoulder. + +A gray streak--nothing more tangible than a streak of gray, silent and +terrible, shot through the dawn-gloom. It was Kazan. He came without a +snarl, without a cry, and in a moment he and the husky were in the +throes of terrific battle. + +The four other huskies ran in quickly and stood waiting a dozen paces +from the combatants. Gray Wolf lay crouched on her belly. The giant +husky and the quarter-strain wolf-dog were not fighting like sledge-dog +or wolf. For a few moments rage and hatred made them fight like +mongrels. Both had holds. Now one was down, and now the other, and so +swiftly did they change their positions that the four waiting +sledge-dogs were puzzled and stood motionless. Under other conditions +they would have leaped upon the first of the fighters to be thrown upon +his back and torn him to pieces. That was the way of the wolf and the +wolf-dog. But now they stood back, hesitating and fearful. + +The big husky had never been beaten in battle. Great Dane ancestors had +given him a huge bulk and a jaw that could crush an ordinary dog's head. +But in Kazan he was meeting not only the dog and the wolf, but all that +was best in the two. And Kazan had the advantage of a few hours of rest +and a full stomach. More than that, he was fighting for Gray Wolf. His +fangs had sunk deep in the husky's shoulder, and the husky's long teeth +met through the hide and flesh of his neck. An inch deeper, and they +would have pierced his jugular. Kazan knew this, as he crunched his +enemy's shoulder-bone, and every instant--even in their fiercest +struggling--he was guarding against a second and more successful lunge +of those powerful jaws. + +At last the lunge came, and quicker than the wolf itself Kazan freed +himself and leaped back. His chest dripped blood, but he did not feel +the hurt. They began slowly to circle, and now the watching sledge-dogs +drew a step or two nearer, and their jaws drooled nervously and their +red eyes glared as they waited for the fatal moment. Their eyes were on +the big husky. He became the pivot of Kazan's wider circle now, and he +limped as he turned. His shoulder was broken. His ears were flattened +as he watched Kazan. + +Kazan's ears were erect, and his feet touched the snow lightly. All his +fighting cleverness and all his caution had returned to him. The blind +rage of a few moments was gone and he fought now as he had fought his +deadliest enemy, the long-clawed lynx. Five times he circled around the +husky, and then like a shot he was in, sending his whole weight against +the husky's shoulder, with the momentum of a ten-foot leap behind it. +This time he did not try for a hold, but slashed at the husky's jaws. It +was the deadliest of all attacks when that merciless tribunal of death +stood waiting for the first fall of the vanquished. The huge dog was +thrown from his feet. For a fatal moment he rolled upon his side and in +the moment his four sledge-mates were upon him. All of their hatred of +the weeks and months in which the long-fanged leader had bullied them in +the traces was concentrated upon him now and he was literally torn into +pieces. + +Kazan pranced to Gray Wolf's side and with a joyful whine she laid her +head over his neck. Twice he had fought the Fight of Death for her. +Twice he had won. And in her blindness Gray Wolf's soul--if soul she +had--rose in exultation to the cold gray sky, and her breast panted +against Kazan's shoulder as she listened to the crunching of fangs in +the flesh and bone of the foe her lord and master had overthrown. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CALL + + +Followed days of feasting on the frozen flesh of the old bull. In vain +Gray Wolf tried to lure Kazan off into the forests and the swamps. Day +by day the temperature rose. There was hunting now. And Gray Wolf wanted +to be alone--with Kazan. But with Kazan, as with most men, leadership +and power roused new sensations. And he was the leader of the dog-pack, +as he had once been a leader among the wolves. Not only Gray Wolf +followed at his flank now, but the four huskies trailed behind him. Once +more he was experiencing that triumph and strange thrill that he had +almost forgotten and only Gray Wolf, in that eternal night of her +blindness, felt with dread foreboding the danger into which his newly +achieved czarship might lead him. + +For three days and three nights they remained in the neighborhood of the +dead moose, ready to defend it against others, and yet each day and +each night growing less vigilant in their guard. Then came the fourth +night, on which they killed a young doe. Kazan led in that chase and for +the first time, in the excitement of having the pack at his back, he +left his blind mate behind. When they came to the kill he was the first +to leap at its soft throat. And not until he had begun to tear at the +doe's flesh did the others dare to eat. He was master. He could send +them back with a snarl. At the gleam of his fangs they crouched +quivering on their bellies in the snow. + +Kazan's blood was fomented with brute exultation, and the excitement and +fascination that came in the possession of new power took the place of +Gray Wolf each day a little more. She came in half an hour after the +kill, and there was no longer the lithesome alertness to her slender +legs, or gladness in the tilt of her ears or the poise of her head. She +did not eat much of the doe. Her blind face was turned always in Kazan's +direction. Wherever he moved she followed with her unseeing eyes, as if +expecting each moment his old signal to her--that low throat-note that +had called to her so often when they were alone in the wilderness. + +In Kazan, as leader of the pack, there was working a curious change. If +his mates had been wolves it would not have been difficult for Gray Wolf +to have lured him away. But Kazan was among his own kind. He was a dog. +And they were dogs. Fires that had burned down and ceased to warm him +flamed up in him anew. In his life with Gray Wolf one thing had +oppressed him as it could not oppress her, and that thing was +loneliness. Nature had created him of that kind which requires +companionship--not of one but of many. It had given him birth that he +might listen to and obey the commands of the voice of man. He had grown +to hate men, but of the dogs--his kind--he was a part. He had been happy +with Gray Wolf, happier than he had ever been in the companionship of +men and his blood-brothers. But he had been a long time separated from +the life that had once been his and the call of blood made him for a +time forget. And only Gray Wolf, with that wonderful super-instinct +which nature was giving her in place of her lost sight, foresaw the end +to which it was leading him. + +Each day the temperature continued to rise until when the sun was +warmest the snow began to thaw a little. This was two weeks after the +fight near the bull. Gradually the pack had swung eastward, until it was +now fifty miles east and twenty miles south of the old home under the +windfall. More than ever Gray Wolf began to long for their old nest +under the fallen trees. Again with those first promises of spring in +sunshine and air, there was coming also for the second time in her life +the promise of approaching motherhood. + +But her efforts to draw Kazan back were unavailing, and in spite of her +protest he wandered each day a little farther east and south at the head +of his pack. + +Instinct impelled the four huskies to move in that direction. They had +not yet been long enough a part of the wild to forget the necessity of +man and in that direction there was man. In that direction, and not far +from them now, was the Hudson Bay Company's post to which they and their +dead master owed their allegiance. Kazan did not know this, but one day +something happened to bring back visions and desires that widened still +more the gulf between him and Gray Wolf. + +They had come to the cap of a ridge when something stopped them. It was +a man's voice crying shrilly that word of long ago that had so often +stirred the blood in Kazan's own veins--"_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! +m'hoosh!"_--and from the ridge they looked down upon the open space of +the plain, where a team of six dogs was trotting ahead of a sledge, with +a man running behind them, urging them on at every other step with that +cry of "_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!"_ + +Trembling and undecided, the four huskies and the wolf-dog stood on the +ridge with Gray Wolf cringing behind them. Not until man and dogs and +sledge had disappeared did they move, and then they trotted down to the +trail and sniffed at it whiningly and excitedly. For a mile or two they +followed it, Kazan and his mates going fearlessly in the trail. Gray +Wolf hung back, traveling twenty yards to the right of them, with the +hot man-scent driving the blood feverishly through her brain. Only her +love for Kazan--and the faith she still had in him--kept her that near. + +At the edge of a swamp Kazan halted and turned away from the trail. With +the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion +which nothing could quite wipe out--the suspicion that was an +inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf. Gray Wolf whined joyfully +when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her +shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side. + +The "slush" snows followed fast after this. And the "slush" snows meant +spring--and the emptying of the wilderness of human life. Kazan and his +mates soon began to scent the presence and the movement of this life. +They were now within thirty miles of the post. For a hundred miles on +all sides of them the trappers were moving in with their late winter's +catch of furs. From east and west, south and north, all trails led to +the post. The pack was caught in the mesh of them. For a week not a day +passed that they did not cross a fresh trail, and sometimes two or +three. + +Gray Wolf was haunted by constant fear. In her blindness she knew that +they were surrounded by the menace of men. To Kazan what was coming to +pass had more and more ceased to fill him with fear and caution. Three +times that week he heard the shouts of men--and once he heard a white +man's laughter and the barking of dogs as their master tossed them their +daily feed of fish. In the air he caught the pungent scent of camp-fires +and one night, in the far distance, he heard a wild snatch of song, +followed by the yelping and barking of a dog-pack. + +Slowly and surely the lure of man drew him nearer to the post--a mile +to-night, two miles to-morrow, but always nearer. And Gray Wolf, +fighting her losing fight to the end, sensed in the danger-filled air +the nearness of that hour when he would respond to the final call and +she would be left alone. + +These were days of activity and excitement at the fur company's post, +the days of accounting, of profit and of pleasure;--the days when the +wilderness poured in its treasure of fur, to be sent a little later to +London and Paris and the capitals of Europe. And this year there was +more than the usual interest in the foregathering of the forest people. +The plague had wrought its terrible havoc, and not until the fur-hunters +had come to answer to the spring roll-call would it be known accurately +who had lived and who had died. + +The Chippewans and half-breeds from the south began to arrive first, +with their teams of mongrel curs, picked up along the borders of +civilization. Close after them came the hunters from the western barren +lands, bringing with them loads of white fox and caribou skins, and an +army of big-footed, long-legged Mackenzie hounds that pulled like horses +and wailed like whipped puppies when the huskies and Eskimo dogs set +upon them. Packs of fierce Labrador dogs, never vanquished except by +death, came from close to Hudson's Bay. Team after team of little yellow +and gray Eskimo dogs, as quick with their fangs as were their black and +swift-running masters with their hands and feet, met the much larger and +dark-colored Malemutes from the Athabasca. Enemies of all these packs of +fierce huskies trailed in from all sides, fighting, snapping and +snarling, with the lust of killing deep born in them from their wolf +progenitors. + +There was no cessation in the battle of the fangs. It began with the +first brute arrivals. It continued from dawn through the day and around +the camp-fires at night. There was never an end to the strife between +the dogs, and between the men and the dogs. The snow was trailed and +stained with blood and the scent of it added greater fierceness to the +wolf-breeds. + +Half a dozen battles were fought to the death each day and night. Those +that died were chiefly the south-bred curs--mixtures of mastiff, Great +Dane, and sheep-dog--and the fatally slow Mackenzie hounds. About the +post rose the smoke of a hundred camp-fires, and about these fires +gathered the women and the children of the hunters. When the snow was no +longer fit for sledging, Williams, the factor, noted that there were +many who had not come, and the accounts of these he later scratched out +of his ledgers knowing that they were victims of the plague. + +At last came the night of the Big Carnival, For weeks and months women +and children and men had been looking forward to this. In scores of +forest cabins, in smoke-blackened tepees, and even in the frozen homes +of the little Eskimos, anticipation of this wild night of pleasure had +given an added zest to life. It was the Big Circus--the good time given +twice each year by the company to its people. + +This year, to offset the memory of plague and death, the factor had put +forth unusual exertions. His hunters had killed four fat caribou. In the +clearing there were great piles of dry logs, and in the center of all +there rose eight ten-foot tree-butts crotched at the top; and from +crotch to crotch there rested a stout sapling stripped of bark, and on +each sapling was spitted the carcass of a caribou, to be roasted whole +by the heat of the fire beneath. The fires were lighted at dusk, and +Williams himself started the first of those wild songs of the +Northland--the song of the caribou, as the flames leaped up into the +dark night. + + "Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo, + He roas' on high, + Jes' under ze sky. + air-holes beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!" + +"Now!" he yelled. "Now--all together!" And carried away by his +enthusiasm, the forest people awakened from their silence of months, +and the song burst forth in a savage frenzy that reached to the skies. + + * * * * * + +Two miles to the south and west that first thunder of human voice +reached the ears of Kazan and Gray Wolf and the masterless huskies. And +with the voices of men they heard now the excited howlings of dogs. The +huskies faced the direction of the sounds, moving restlessly and +whining. For a few moments Kazan stood as though carven of rock. Then he +turned his head, and his first look was to Gray Wolf. She had slunk back +a dozen feet and lay crouched under the thick cover of a balsam shrub. +Her body, legs and neck were flattened in the snow. She made no sound, +but her lips were drawn back and her teeth shone white. + +Kazan trotted back to her, sniffed at her blind face and whined. Gray +Wolf still did not move. He returned to the dogs and his jaws opened and +closed with a snap. Still more clearly came the wild voice of the +carnival, and no longer to be held back by Kazan's leadership, the four +huskies dropped their heads and slunk like shadows in its direction. +Kazan hesitated, urging Gray Wolf. But not a muscle of Gray Wolf's body +moved. She would have followed him in face of fire but not in face of +man. Not a sound escaped her ears. She heard the quick fall of Kazan's +feet as he left her. In another moment she knew that he was gone. +Then--and not until then--did she lift her head, and from her soft +throat there broke a whimpering cry. + +It was her last call to Kazan. But stronger than that there was running +through Kazan's excited blood the call of man and of dog. The huskies +were far in advance of him now and for a few moments he raced madly to +overtake them. Then he slowed down until he was trotting, and a hundred +yards farther on he stopped. Less than a mile away he could see where +the flames of the great fires were reddening the sky. He gazed back to +see if Gray Wolf was following and then went on until he struck an open +and hard traveled trail. It was beaten with the footprints of men and +dogs, and over it two of the caribou had been dragged a day or two +before. + +At last he came to the thinned out strip of timber that surrounded the +clearing and the flare of the flames was in his eyes. The bedlam of +sound that came to him now was like fire in his brain. He heard the song +and the laughter of men, the shrill cries of women and children, the +barking and snarling and fighting of a hundred dogs. He wanted to rush +out and join them, to become again a part of what he had once been. Yard +by yard he sneaked through the thin timber until he reached the edge of +the clearing. There he stood in the shadow of a spruce and looked out +upon life as he had once lived it, trembling, wistful and yet hesitating +in that final moment. + +A hundred yards away was the savage circle of men and dogs and fire. His +nostrils were filled with the rich aroma of the roasting caribou, and as +he crouched down, still with that wolfish caution that Gray Wolf had +taught him, men with long poles brought the huge carcasses crashing down +upon the melting snow about the fires. In one great rush the horde of +wild revelers crowded in with bared knives, and a snarling mass of dogs +closed in behind them. In another moment he had forgotten Gray Wolf, had +forgotten all that man and the wild had taught him, and like a gray +streak was across the open. + +The dogs were surging back when he reached them, with half a dozen of +the factor's men lashing them in the faces with long caribou-gut whips. +The sting of a lash fell in a fierce cut over an Eskimo dog's shoulder, +and in snapping at the lash his fangs struck Kazan's rump. With +lightning swiftness Kazan returned the cut, and in an instant the jaws +of the dogs had met. In another instant they were down and Kazan had the +Eskimo dog by the throat. + +With shouts the men rushed in. Again and again their whips cut like +knives through the air. Their blows fell on Kazan, who was uppermost, +and as he felt the burning pain of the scourging whips there flooded +through him all at once the fierce memory of the days of old--the days +of the Club and the Lash. He snarled. Slowly he loosened his hold of the +Eskimo dog's throat. And then, out of the melee of dogs and men, there +sprang another man--_with a club_! It fell on Kazan's back and the force +of it sent him flat into the snow. It was raised again. Behind the club +there was a face--a brutal, fire-reddened face. It was such a face that +had driven Kazan into the wild, and as the club fell again he evaded the +full weight of its blow and his fangs gleamed like ivory knives. A third +time the club was raised, and this time Kazan met it in mid-air, and his +teeth ripped the length of the man's forearm. + +"Good God!" shrieked the man in pain, and Kazan caught the gleam of a +rifle barrel as he sped toward the forest. A shot followed. Something +like a red-hot coal ran the length of Kazan's hip, and deep in the +forest he stopped to lick at the burning furrow where the bullet had +gone just deep enough to take the skin and hair from his flesh. + + * * * * * + +Gray Wolf was still waiting under the balsam shrub when Kazan returned +to her. Joyously she sprang forth to meet him. Once more the man had +sent back the old Kazan to her. He muzzled her neck and face, and stood +for a few moments with his head resting across her back, listening to +the distant sound. + +Then, with ears laid flat, he set out straight into the north and west. +And now Gray Wolf ran shoulder to shoulder with him like the Gray Wolf +of the days before the dog-pack came; for that wonderful thing that lay +beyond the realm of reason told her that once more she was comrade and +mate, and that their trail that night was leading to their old home +under the windfall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HIS SON + + +It happened that Kazan was to remember three things above all others. He +could never quite forget his old days in the traces, though they were +growing more shadowy and indistinct in his memory as the summers and the +winters passed. Like a dream there came to him a memory of the time he +had gone down to Civilization. Like dreams were the visions that rose +before him now and then of the face of the First Woman, and of the faces +of masters who--to him--had lived ages ago. And never would he quite +forget the Fire, and his fights with man and beast, and his long chases +in the moonlight. But two things were always with him as if they had +been but yesterday, rising clear and unforgetable above all others, like +the two stars in the North that never lost their brilliance. One was +Woman. The other was the terrible fight of that night on the top of the +Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded forever his wild mate, Gray Wolf. +Certain events remain indelibly fixed in the minds of men; and so, in a +not very different way, they remain in the minds of beasts. It takes +neither brain nor reason to measure the depths of sorrow or of +happiness. And Kazan in his unreasoning way knew that contentment and +peace, a full stomach, and caresses and kind words instead of blows had +come to him through Woman, and that comradeship in the wilderness--faith, +loyalty and devotion--were a part of Gray Wolf. The third unforgetable +thing was about to occur in the home they had found for themselves under +the swamp windfall during the days of cold and famine. + +They had left the swamp over a month before when it was smothered deep +in snow. On the day they returned to it the sun was shining warmly in +the first glorious days of spring warmth. Everywhere, big and small, +there were the rushing torrents of melting snows and the crackle of +crumbling ice, the dying cries of thawing rock and earth and tree, and +each night for many nights past the cold pale glow of the aurora +borealis had crept farther and farther toward the Pole in fading glory. +So early as this the poplar buds had begun to swell and the air was +filled with the sweet odor of balsam, spruce and cedar. Where there had +been famine and death and stillness six weeks before, Kazan and Gray +Wolf now stood at the edge of the swamp and breathed the earthy smells +of spring, and listened to the sounds of life. Over their heads a pair +of newly-mated moose-birds fluttered and scolded at them. A big jay sat +pluming himself in the sunshine. Farther in they heard the crack of a +stick broken under a heavy hoof. From the ridge behind them they caught +the raw scent of a mother bear, busy pulling down the tender poplar buds +for her six-weeks-old cubs, born while she was still deep in her winter +sleep. + +In the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air there breathed to +Gray Wolf the mystery of matehood and of motherhood. She whined softly +and rubbed her blind face against Kazan. For days, in her way, she tried +to tell him. More than ever she wanted to curl herself up in that warm +dry nest under the windfall. She had no desire to hunt. The crack of +the dry stick under a cloven hoof and the warm scent of the she-bear and +her cubs roused none of the old instincts in her. She wanted to curl +herself up in the old windfall--and wait. And she tried hard to make +Kazan understand her desire. + +Now that the snow was gone they found that a narrow creek lay between +them and the knoll on which the windfall was situated. Gray Wolf picked +up her ears at the tumult of the little torrent. Since the day of the +Fire, when Kazan and she had saved themselves on the sand-bar, she had +ceased to have the inherent wolf horror of water. She followed +fearlessly, even eagerly, behind Kazan as he sought a place where they +could ford the rushing little stream. On the other side Kazan could see +the big windfall. Gray Wolf could _smell_ it and she whined joyously, +with her blind face turned toward it. A hundred yards up the stream a +big cedar had fallen over it and Kazan began to cross. For a moment Gray +Wolf hesitated, and then followed. Side by side they trotted to the +windfall. With their heads and shoulders in the dark opening to their +nest they scented the air long and cautiously. Then they entered. Kazan +heard Gray Wolf as she flung herself down on the dry floor of the snug +cavern. She was panting, not from exhaustion, but because she was filled +with a sensation of contentment and happiness. In the darkness Kazan's +own jaws fell apart. He, too, was glad to get back to their old home. He +went to Gray Wolf and, panting still harder, she licked his face. It had +but one meaning. And Kazan understood. + +For a moment he lay down beside her, listening, and eyeing the opening +to their nest. Then he began to sniff about the log walls. He was close +to the opening when a sudden fresh scent came to him, and he grew rigid, +and his bristles stood up. The scent was followed by a whimpering, +babyish chatter. A porcupine entered the opening and proceeded to +advance in its foolish fashion, still chattering in that babyish way +that has made its life inviolable at the hands of man. Kazan had heard +that sound before, and like all other beasts had learned to ignore the +presence of the innocuous creature that made it. But just now he did not +stop to consider that what he saw was a porcupine and that at his first +snarl the good-humored little creature would waddle away as fast as it +could, still chattering baby talk to itself. His first reasoning was +that it was a live thing invading the home to which Gray Wolf and he had +just returned. A day later, or perhaps an hour later, he would have +driven it back with a growl. Now he leaped upon it. + +A wild chattering, intermingled with pig-like squeaks, and then a rising +staccato of howls followed the attack. Gray Wolf sprang to the opening. +The porcupine was rolled up in a thousand-spiked ball a dozen feet away, +and she could hear Kazan tearing about in the throes of the direst agony +that can befall a beast of the forests. His face and nose were a mat of +quills. For a few moments he rolled and dug in the wet mold and earth, +pawing madly at the things that pierced his flesh. Then he set off like +all dogs will who have come into contact with the friendly porcupine, +and raced again and again around the windfall, howling at every jump. +Gray Wolf took the matter coolly. It is possible that at times there are +moments of humor in the lives of animals. If so, she saw this one. She +scented the porcupine and she knew that Kazan was full of quills. As +there was nothing to do and nothing to fight she sat back on her +haunches and waited, pricking up her ears every time Kazan passed her in +his mad circuit around the windfall. At his fourth or fifth heat the +porcupine smoothed itself down a little, and continuing the interrupted +thread of its chatter waddled to a near-by poplar, climbed it and began +to gnaw the tender bark from a limb. + +At last Kazan halted before Gray Wolf. The first agony of a hundred +little needles piercing his flesh had deadened into a steady burning +pain. Gray Wolf went over to him and investigated him cautiously. With +her teeth she seized the ends of two or three of the quills and pulled +them out. Kazan was very much dog now. He gave a yelp, and whimpered as +Gray Wolf jerked out a second bunch of quills. Then he flattened himself +on his belly, stretched out his forelegs, closed his eyes, and without +any other sound except an occasional yelp of pain allowed Gray Wolf to +go on with the operation. Fortunately he had escaped getting any of the +quills in his mouth and tongue. But his nose and jaws were soon red +with blood. For an hour Gray Wolf kept faithfully at her task and by the +end of that time had succeeded in pulling out most of the quills. A few +still remained, too short and too deeply inbedded for her to extract +with her teeth. + +After this Kazan went down to the creek and buried his burning muzzle in +the cold water. This gave him some relief, but only for a short time. +The quills that remained worked their way deeper and deeper into his +flesh, like living things. Nose and lips began to swell. Blood and +saliva dripped from his mouth and his eyes grew red. Two hours after +Gray Wolf had retired to her nest under the windfall a quill had +completely pierced his lip and began to prick his tongue. In desperation +Kazan chewed viciously upon a piece of wood. This broke and crumpled the +quill, and destroyed its power to do further harm. Nature had told him +the one thing to do to save himself. Most of that day he spent in +gnawing at wood and crunching mouthfuls of earth and mold between his +jaws. In this way the barb-toothed points of the quills were dulled and +broken as they came through. At dusk he crawled under the windfall, and +Gray Wolf gently licked his muzzle with her soft cool tongue. Frequently +during the night Kazan went to the creek and found relief in its +ice-cold water. + +The next day he had what the forest people call "porcupine mumps." His +face was swollen until Gray Wolf would have laughed if she had been +human, and not blind. His chops bulged like cushions. His eyes were mere +slits. When he went out into the day he blinked, for he could see +scarcely better than his sightless mate. But the pain was mostly gone. +The night that followed he began to think of hunting, and the next +morning before it was yet dawn he brought a rabbit into their den. A few +hours later he would have brought a spruce partridge to Gray Wolf, but +just as he was about to spring upon his feathered prey the soft chatter +of a porcupine a few yards away brought him to a sudden stop. Few things +could make Kazan drop his tail. But that inane and incoherent prattle of +the little spiked beast sent him off at double-quick with his tail +between his legs. As man abhors and evades the creeping serpent, so +Kazan would hereafter evade this little creature of the forests that +never in animal history has been known to lose its good-humor or pick a +quarrel. + +Two weeks of lengthening days, of increasing warmth, of sunshine and +hunting, followed Kazan's adventure with the porcupine. The last of the +snow went rapidly. Out of the earth began to spring tips of green. The +_bakneesh_ vine glistened redder each day, the poplar buds began to +split, and in the sunniest spots, between the rocks of the ridges the +little white snow-flowers began to give a final proof that spring had +come. For the first of those two weeks Gray Wolf hunted frequently with +Kazan. They did not go far. The swamp was alive with small game and each +day or night they killed fresh meat. After the first week Gray Wolf +hunted less. Then came the soft and balmy night, glorious in the +radiance of a full spring moon when she refused to leave the windfall. +Kazan did not urge her. Instinct made him understand, and he did not go +far from the windfall that night in his hunt. When he returned he +brought a rabbit. + +Came then the night when from the darkest corner of the windfall Gray +Wolf warned him back with a low snarl. He stood in the opening, a rabbit +between his jaws. He took no offense at the snarl, but stood for a +moment, gazing into the gloom where Gray Wolf had hidden herself. Then +he dropped the rabbit and lay down squarely in the opening. After a +little he rose restlessly and went outside. But he did not leave the +windfall. It was day when he reentered. He sniffed, as he had sniffed +once before a long time ago, between the boulders at the top of the Sun +Rock. That which was in the air was no longer a mystery to him. He came +nearer and Gray Wolf did not snarl. She whined coaxingly as he touched +her. Then his muzzle found something else. It was soft and warm and made +a queer little sniffling sound. There was a responsive whine in his +throat, and in the darkness came the quick soft caress of Gray Wolf's +tongue. Kazan returned to the sunshine and stretched himself out before +the door of the windfall. His jaws dropped open, for he was filled with +a strange contentment. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + +Robbed once of the joys of parenthood by the murder on the Sun Rock, +both Gray Wolf and Kazan were different from what they would have been +had the big gray lynx not come into their lives at that time. As if it +were but yesterday they remembered the moonlit night when the lynx +brought blindness to Gray Wolf and destroyed her young, and when Kazan +had avenged himself and his mate in his terrible fight to the death with +their enemy. And now, with that soft little handful of life snuggling +close up against her, Gray Wolf saw through her blind eyes the tragic +picture of that night more vividly than ever and she quivered at every +sound, ready to leap in the face of an unseen foe, to rend all flesh +that was not the flesh of Kazan. And ceaselessly, the slightest sound +bringing him to his feet, Kazan watched and guarded. He mistrusted the +moving shadows. The snapping of a twig drew back his upper lip. His +fangs gleamed menacingly when the soft air brought a strange scent. In +him, too, the memory of the Sun Rock, the death of their first young and +the blinding of Gray Wolf, had given birth to a new instinct. Not for an +instant was he off his guard. As surely as one expects the sun to rise +so did he expect that sooner or later their deadly enemy would creep on +them from out of the forest. In another hour such as this the lynx had +brought death. The lynx had brought blindness. And so day and night he +waited and watched for the lynx to come again. And woe unto any other +creature of flesh and blood that dared approach the windfall in these +first days of Gray Wolf's motherhood! + +But peace had spread its wings of sunshine and plenty over the swamp. +There were no intruders, unless the noisy whisky-jacks, the big-eyed +moose-birds, the chattering bush sparrows, and the wood-mice and ermine +could be called such. After the first day or two Kazan went more +frequently into the windfall, and though more than once he nosed +searchingly about Gray Wolf he could find only the one little pup. A +little farther west the Dog-Ribs would have called the pup Ba-ree for +two reasons--because he had no brothers or sisters, and because he was a +mixture of dog and wolf. He was a sleek and lively little fellow from +the beginning, for there was no division of mother strength and +attention. He developed with the true swiftness of the wolf-whelp, and +not with the slowness of the dog-pup. + +For three days he was satisfied to cuddle close against his mother, +feeding when he was hungry, sleeping a great deal and preened and +laundered almost constantly by Gray Wolf's affectionate tongue. From the +fourth day he grew busier and more inquisitive with every hour. He found +his mother's blind face, with tremendous effort he tumbled over her +paws, and once he lost himself completely and sniffled for help when he +rolled fifteen or eighteen inches away from her. It was not long after +this that he began to recognize Kazan as a part of his mother, and he +was scarcely more than a week old when he rolled himself up contentedly +between Kazan's forelegs and went to sleep. Kazan was puzzled. Then +with a deep sigh Gray Wolf laid her head across one of her mate's +forelegs, with her nose touching her runaway baby, and seemed vastly +contented. For half an hour Kazan did not move. + +When he was ten days old Ba-ree discovered there was great sport in +tussling with a bit of rabbit fur. It was a little later when he made +his second exciting discovery--light and sunshine. The sun had now +reached a point where in the middle of the afternoon a bright gleam of +it found its way through an overhead opening in the windfall. At first +Ba-ree would only stare at the golden streak. Then came the time when he +tried to play with it as he played with the rabbit fur. Each day +thereafter he went a little nearer the opening through which Kazan +passed from the windfall into the big world outside. Finally came the +time when he reached the opening and crouched there, blinking and +frightened at what he saw, and now Gray Wolf no longer tried to hold him +back but went out into the sunshine and tried to call him to her. It was +three days before his weak eyes had grown strong enough to permit his +following her, and very quickly after that Ba-ree learned to love the +sun, the warm air, and the sweetness of life, and to dread the darkness +of the closed-in den where he had been born. + +That this world was not altogether so nice as it at first appeared he +was very soon to learn. At the darkening signs of an approaching storm +one day Gray Wolf tried to lure him back under the windfall. It was her +first warning to Ba-ree and he did not understand. Where Gray Wolf +failed, nature came to teach a first lesson. Ba-ree was caught in a +sudden deluge of rain. It flattened him out in pure terror and he was +drenched and half drowned before Gray Wolf caught him between her jaws +and carried him into shelter. One by one after this the first strange +experiences of life came to him, and one by one his instincts received +their birth. Greatest for him of the days to follow was that on which +his inquisitive nose touched the raw flesh of a freshly killed and +bleeding rabbit. It was his first taste of blood. It was sweet. It +filled him with a strange excitement and thereafter he knew what it +meant when Kazan brought in something between his jaws. He soon began +to battle with sticks in place of the soft fur and his teeth grew as +hard and as sharp as little needles. + +The Great Mystery was bared to him at last when Kazan brought in between +his jaws, a big rabbit that was still alive but so badly crushed that it +could not run when dropped to the ground. Ba-ree had learned to know +what rabbits and partridges meant--the sweet warm blood that he loved +better even than he had ever loved his mother's milk. But they had come +to him dead. He had never seen one of the monsters alive. And now the +rabbit that Kazan dropped to the ground, kicking and struggling with a +broken back, sent Ba-ree back appalled. For a few moments he wonderingly +watched the dying throes of Kazan's prey. Both Kazan and Gray Wolf +seemed to understand that this was to be Ba-ree's first lesson in his +education as a slaying and flesh-eating creature, and they stood close +over the rabbit, making no effort to end its struggles. Half a dozen +times Gray Wolf sniffed at the rabbit and then turned her blind face +toward Ba-ree. After the third or fourth time Kazan stretched himself +out on his belly a few feet away and watched the proceedings +attentively. Each time that Gray Wolf lowered her head to muzzle the +rabbit Ba-ree's little ears shot up expectantly. When he saw that +nothing happened and that his mother was not hurt he came a little +nearer. Soon he could reach out, stiff-legged and cautious, and touch +the furry thing that was not yet dead. + +In a last spasmodic convulsion the big rabbit doubled up its rear legs +and gave a kick that sent Ba-ree sprawling back, yelping in terror. He +regained his feet and then, for the first time, anger and the desire to +retaliate took possession of him. The kick had completed his first +education. He came back with less caution, but stiffer-legged, and a +moment later had dug his tiny teeth in the rabbit's neck. He could feel +the throb of life in the soft body, the muscles of the dying rabbit +twitched convulsively under him, and he hung with his teeth until there +was no longer a tremor of life in his first kill. Gray Wolf was +delighted. She caressed Ba-ree with her tongue, and even Kazan +condescended to sniff approvingly of his son when he returned to the +rabbit. And never before had warm sweet blood tasted so good to Ba-ree +as it did to-day. + +Swiftly Ba-ree developed from a blood-tasting into a flesh-eating +animal. One by one the mysteries of life were unfolded to him--the +mating-night chortle of the gray owl, the crash of a falling tree, the +roll of thunder, the rush of running water, the scream of a fisher-cat, +the mooing of the cow moose, and the distant call of his tribe. But +chief of all these mysteries that were already becoming a part of his +instinct was the mystery of scent. One day he wandered fifty yards away +from the windfall and his little nose touched the warm scent of a +rabbit. Instantly, without reasoning or further process of education, he +knew that to get at the sweet flesh and blood which he loved he must +follow the scent. He wriggled slowly along the trail until he came to a +big log, over which the rabbit had vaulted in a long leap, and from this +log he turned back. Each day after this he went on adventures of his +own. At first he was like an explorer without a compass in a vast and +unknown world. Each day he encountered something new, always wonderful, +frequently terrifying. But his terrors grew less and less and his +confidence correspondingly greater. As he found that none of the things +he feared did him any harm he became more and more bold in his +investigations. And his appearance was changing, as well as his view of +things. His round roly-poly body was taking a different form. He became +lithe and quick. The yellow of his coat darkened, and there was a +whitish-gray streak along his back like that along Kazan's. He had his +mother's under-throat and her beautiful grace of head. Otherwise he was +a true son of Kazan. His limbs gave signs of future strength and +massiveness. He was broad across the chest. His eyes were wide apart, +with a little red in the lower corners. The forest people know what to +expect of husky pups who early develop that drop of red. It is a warning +that they are born of the wild and that their mothers, or fathers, are +of the savage hunt-packs. In Ba-ree that tinge of red was so pronounced +that it could mean but one thing. While he was almost half dog, the wild +had claimed him forever. + +Not until the day of his first real battle with a living creature did +Ba-ree come fully into his inheritance. He had gone farther than usual +from the windfall--fully a hundred yards. Here he found a new wonder. It +was the creek. He had heard it before and he had looked down on it from +afar--from a distance of fifty yards at least. But to-day he ventured +going to the edge of it, and there he stood for a long time, with the +water rippling and singing at his feet, gazing across it into the new +world that he saw. Then he moved cautiously along the stream. He had not +gone a dozen steps when there was a furious fluttering close to him, and +one of the fierce big-eyed jays of the Northland was directly in his +path. It could not fly. One of its wings dragged, probably broken in a +struggle with some one of the smaller preying beasts. But for an instant +it was a most startling and defiant bit of life to Ba-ree. + +Then the grayish crest along his back stiffened and he advanced. The +wounded jay remained motionless until Ba-ree was within three feet of +it. In short quick hops it began to retreat. Instantly Ba-ree's +indecision had flown to the four winds. With one sharp excited yelp he +flew at the defiant bird. For a few moments there was a thrilling race, +and Ba-ree's sharp little teeth buried themselves in the jay's feathers. +Swift as a flash the bird's beak began to strike. The jay was the king +of the smaller birds. In nesting season it killed the brush sparrows, +the mild-eyed moose-birds, and the tree-sappers. Again and again it +struck Ba-ree with its powerful beak, but the son of Kazan had now +reached the age of battle and the pain of the blows only made his own +teeth sink deeper. At last he found the flesh; and a puppyish snarl rose +in his throat. Fortunately he had gained a hold under the wing and after +the first dozen blows the jay's resistance grew weaker. Five minutes +later Ba-ree loosened his teeth and drew back a step to look at the +crumpled and motionless creature before him. The jay was dead. He had +won his first battle. And with victory came the wonderful dawning of +that greatest instinct of all, which told him that no longer was he a +drone in the marvelous mechanism of wilderness life--but a part of it +from this time forth. _For he had killed_. + +Half an hour later Gray Wolf came down over his trail. The jay was torn +into bits. Its feathers were scattered about and Ba-ree's little nose +was bloody. Ba-ree was lying in triumph beside his victim. Swiftly Gray +Wolf understood and caressed him joyously. When they returned to the +windfall Ba-ree carried in his jaws what was left of the jay. + +From that hour of his first kill hunting became the chief passion of +Ba-ree's life. When he was not sleeping in the sun, or under the +windfall at night, he was seeking life that he could destroy. He +slaughtered an entire family of wood-mice. Moose-birds were at first the +easiest for him to stalk, and he killed three. Then he encountered an +ermine and the fierce little white outlaw of the forests gave him his +first defeat. Defeat cooled his ardor for a few days, but taught him the +great lesson that there were other fanged and flesh-eating animals +besides himself and that nature had so schemed things that fang must not +prey upon fang--_for food_. Many things had been born in him. +Instinctively he shunned the porcupine without experiencing the torture +of its quills. He came face to face with a fisher-cat one day, a +fortnight after his fight with the ermine. Both were seeking food, and +as there was no food between them to fight over, each went his own way. + +Farther and farther Ba-ree ventured from the windfall, always following +the creek. Sometimes he was gone for hours. At first Gray Wolf was +restless when he was away, but she seldom went with him and after a time +her restlessness left her. Nature was working swiftly. It was Kazan who +was restless now. Moonlight nights had come and the wanderlust was +growing more and more insistent in his veins. And Gray Wolf, too, was +filled with the strange longing to roam at large out into the big world. + +Came then the afternoon when Ba-ree went on his longest hunt. Half a +mile away he killed his first rabbit. He remained beside it until dusk. +The moon rose, big and golden, flooding the forests and plains and +ridges with a light almost like that of day. It was a glorious night. +And Ba-ree found the moon, and left his kill. And the direction in +which he traveled _was away from the windfall_. + +All that night Gray Wolf watched and waited. And when at last the moon +was sinking into the south and west she settled back on her haunches, +turned her blind face to the sky and sent forth her first howl since the +day Ba-ree was born. Nature had come into her own. Far away Ba-ree +heard, but he did not answer. A new world was his. He had said good-by +to the windfall--and home. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE USURPERS + + +It was that glorious season between spring and summer, when the northern +nights were brilliant with moon and stars, that Kazan and Gray Wolf set +up the valley between the two ridges on a long hunt. It was the +beginning of that _wanderlust_ which always comes to the furred and +padded creatures of the wilderness immediately after the young-born of +early spring have left their mothers to find their own way in the big +world. They struck west from their winter home under the windfall in the +swamp. They hunted mostly at night and behind them they left a trail +marked by the partly eaten carcasses of rabbits and partridges. It was +the season of slaughter and not of hunger. Ten miles west of the swamp +they killed a fawn. This, too, they left after a single meal. Their +appetites became satiated with warm flesh and blood. They grew sleek and +fat and each day they basked longer in the warm sunshine. They had few +rivals. The lynxes were in the heavier timber to the south. There were +no wolves. Fisher-cat, marten and mink were numerous along the creek, +but these were neither swift-hunting nor long-fanged. One day they came +upon an old otter. He was a giant of his kind, turning a whitish gray +with the approach of summer. Kazan, grown fat and lazy, watched him +idly. Blind Gray Wolf sniffed at the fishy smell of him in the air. To +them he was no more than a floating stick, a creature out of their +element, along with the fish, and they continued on their way not +knowing that this uncanny creature with the coal-like flappers was soon +to become their ally in one of the strange and deadly feuds of the +wilderness, which are as sanguinary to animal life as the deadliest +feuds of men are to human life. + +The day following their meeting with the otter Gray Wolf and Kazan +continued three miles farther westward, still following the stream. Here +they encountered the interruption to their progress which turned them +over the northward ridge. The obstacle was a huge beaver dam. The dam +was two hundred yards in width and flooded a mile of swamp and timber +above it. Neither Gray Wolf nor Kazan was deeply interested in beavers. +They also moved out of their element, along with the fish and the otter +and swift-winged birds. + +So they turned into the north, not knowing that nature had already +schemed that they four--the dog, wolf, otter and beaver--should soon be +engaged in one of those merciless struggles of the wild which keep +animal life down to the survival of the fittest, and whose tragic +histories are kept secret under the stars and the moon and the winds +that tell no tales. + +For many years no man had come into this valley between the two ridges +to molest the beaver. If a Sarcee trapper had followed down the nameless +creek and had caught the patriarch and chief of the colony, he would at +once have judged him to be very old and his Indian tongue would have +given him a name. He would have called him Broken Tooth, because one of +the four long teeth with which he felled trees and built dams was broken +off. Six years before Broken Tooth had led a few beavers of his own age +down the stream, and they had built their first small dam and their +first lodge. The following April Broken Tooth's mate had four little +baby beavers, and each of the other mothers in the colony increased the +population by two or three or four. At the end of the fourth year this +first generation of children, had they followed the usual law of nature, +would have mated and left the colony to build a dam and lodges of their +own. They mated, but did not emigrate. + +The next year the second generation of children, now four years old, +mated but did not leave, so that in this early summer of the sixth year +the colony was very much like a great city that had been long besieged +by an enemy. It numbered fifteen lodges and over a hundred beavers, not +counting the fourth babies which had been born during March and April. +The dam had been lengthened until it was fully two hundred yards in +length. Water had been made to flood large areas of birch and poplar and +tangled swamps of tender willow and elder. Even with this food was +growing scarce and the lodges were overcrowded. This was because +beavers are almost human in their love for home. Broken Tooth's lodge +was fully nine feet long by seven wide inside, and there were now living +in it children and grandchildren to the number of twenty-seven. For this +reason Broken Tooth was preparing to break the precedent of his tribe. +When Kazan and Gray Wolf sniffed carelessly at the strong scents of the +beaver city, Broken Tooth was marshaling his family, and two of his sons +and their families, for the exodus. + +As yet Broken Tooth was the recognized leader in the colony. No other +beaver had grown to his size and strength. His thick body was fully +three feet long. He weighed at least sixty pounds. His tail was fourteen +inches in length and five in width, and on a still night he could strike +the water a blow that could be heard a quarter of a mile away. His +webbed hindfeet were twice as large as his mate's and he was easily the +swiftest swimmer in the colony. + +Following the afternoon when Gray Wolf and Kazan struck into the north +came the clear still night when Broken Tooth climbed to the top of the +dam, shook himself, and looked down to see that his army was behind +him. The starlit water of the big pond rippled and flashed with the +movement of many bodies. A few of the older beavers clambered up after +Broken Tooth and the old patriarch plunged down into the narrow stream +on the other side of the dam. Now the shining silken bodies of the +emigrants followed him in the starlight. In ones and twos and threes +they climbed over the dam and with them went a dozen children born three +months before. Easily and swiftly they began the journey down-stream, +the youngsters swimming furiously to keep up with their parents. In all +they numbered forty. Broken Tooth swam well in the lead, with his older +workers and battlers behind him. In the rear followed mothers and +children. + +All of that night the journey continued. The otter, their deadliest +enemy--deadlier even than man--hid himself in a thick clump of willows +as they passed. Nature, which sometimes sees beyond the vision of man, +had made him the enemy of these creatures that were passing his +hiding-place in the night. A fish-feeder, he was born to be a conserver +as well as a destroyer of the creatures on which he fed. Perhaps nature +told him that too many beaver dams stopped the run of spawning fish and +that where there were many beavers there were always few fish. Maybe he +reasoned as to why fish-hunting was poor and he went hungry. So, unable +to cope singly with whole tribes of his enemies, he worked to destroy +their dams. How this, in turn, destroyed the beavers will be seen in the +feud in which nature had already schemed that he should play a part with +Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +A dozen times during this night Broken Tooth halted to investigate the +food supplies along the banks. But in the two or three places where he +found plenty of the bark on which they lived it would have been +difficult to have constructed a dam. His wonderful engineering instincts +rose even above food instincts. And when each time he moved onward, no +beaver questioned his judgment by remaining behind. In the early dawn +they crossed the burn and came to the edge of the swamp domain of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. By right of discovery and possession that swamp belonged +to the dog and the wolf. In every part of it they had left their mark of +ownership. But Broken Tooth was a creature of the water and the scent of +his tribe was not keen. He led on, traveling more slowly when they +entered the timber. Just below the windfall home of Kazan and Gray Wolf +he halted, and clambering ashore balanced himself upright on his webbed +hindfeet and broad four-pound tail. Here he had found ideal conditions. +A dam could be constructed easily across the narrow stream, and the +water could be made to flood a big supply of poplar, birch, willow and +alder. Also the place was sheltered by heavy timber, so that the winters +would be warm. Broken Tooth quickly gave his followers to understand +that this was to be their new home. On both sides of the stream they +swarmed into the near-by timber. The babies began at once to nibble +hungrily at the tender bark of willow and alder. The older ones, every +one of them now a working engineer, investigated excitedly, breakfasting +by nibbling off a mouthful of bark now and then. + +That day the work of home-building began. Broken Tooth himself selected +a big birch that leaned over the stream, and began the work of cutting +through the ten-inch butt with his three long teeth. Though the old +patriarch had lost one tooth, the three that remained had not +deteriorated with age. The outer edge of them was formed of the hardest +enamel; the inner side was of soft ivory. They were like the finest +steel chisels, the enamel never wearing away and the softer ivory +replacing itself year by year as it was consumed. Sitting on his +hindlegs, with his forepaws resting against the tree and with his heavy +tail giving him a firm balance, Broken Tooth began gnawing a narrow ring +entirely around the tree. He worked tirelessly for several hours, and +when at last he stopped to rest another workman took up the task. +Meanwhile a dozen beavers were hard at work cutting timber. Long before +Broken Tooth's tree was ready to fall across the stream, a smaller +poplar crashed into the water. The cutting on the big birch was in the +shape of an hour-glass. In twenty hours it fell straight across the +creek. While the beaver prefers to do most of his work at night he is a +day-laborer as well, and Broken Tooth gave his tribe but little rest +during the days that followed. With almost human intelligence the little +engineers kept at their task. Smaller trees were felled, and these were +cut into four or five foot lengths. One by one these lengths were rolled +to the stream, the beavers pushing them with their heads and forepaws, +and by means of brush and small limbs they were fastened securely +against the birch. When the framework was completed the wonderful cement +construction was begun. In this the beavers were the masters of men. +Dynamite was the only force that could hereafter break up what they were +building now. Under their cup-like chins the beavers brought from the +banks a mixture of mud and fine twigs, carrying from half a pound to a +pound at a load and began filling up the framework with it. Their task +seemed tremendous, and yet Broken Tooth's engineers could carry a ton of +this mud and twig mixture during a day and night. In three days the +water was beginning to back, until it rose about the butts of a dozen or +more trees and was flooding a small area of brush. This made work +easier. From now on materials could be cut in the water and easily +floated. While a part of the beaver colony was taking advantage of the +water, others were felling trees end to end with the birch, laying the +working frame of a dam a hundred feet in width. + +They had nearly accomplished this work when one morning Kazan and Gray +Wolf returned to the swamp. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + +A soft wind blowing from the south and east brought the scent of the +invaders to Gray Wolf's nose when they were still half a mile away. She +gave the warning to Kazan and he, too, found the strange scent in the +air. It grew stronger as they advanced. When two hundred yards from the +windfall they heard the sudden crash of a falling tree, and stopped. For +a full minute they stood tense and listening. Then the silence was +broken by a squeaking cry, followed by a splash. Gray Wolf's alert ears +fell back and she turned her blind face understandingly toward Kazan. +They trotted ahead slowly, approaching the windfall from behind. Not +until they had reached the top of the knoll on which it was situated did +Kazan begin to see the wonderful change that had taken place during +their absence. Astounded, they stood while he stared. There was no +longer a little creek below them. Where it had been was a pond that +reached almost to the foot of the knoll. It was fully a hundred feet in +width and the backwater had flooded the trees and bush for five or six +times that distance toward the burn. They had come up quietly and Broken +Tooth's dull-scented workers were unaware of their presence. Not fifty +feet away Broken Tooth himself was gnawing at the butt of a tree. An +equal distance to the right of him four or five of the baby beavers were +at play building a miniature dam of mud and tiny twigs. On the opposite +side of the pond was a steep bank six or seven feet high, and here a few +of the older children--two years old, but still not workmen--were having +great fun climbing the bank and using it as a toboggan-slide. It was +their splashing that Kazan and Gray Wolf had heard. In a dozen different +places the older beavers were at work. + +A few weeks before Kazan had looked upon a similar scene when he had +returned into the north from Broken Tooth's old home. It had not +interested him then. But a quick and thrilling change swept through him +now. The beavers had ceased to be mere water animals, uneatable and +with an odor that displeased him. They were invaders--and enemies. His +fangs bared silently. His crest stiffened like the hair of a brush, and +the muscles of his forelegs and shoulders stood out like whipcords. Not +a sound came from him as he rushed down upon Broken Tooth. The old +beaver was oblivious of danger until Kazan was within twenty feet of +him. Naturally slow of movement on land, he stood for an instant +stupefied. Then he swung down from the tree as Kazan leaped upon him. +Over and over they rolled to the edge of the bank, carried on by the +dog's momentum. In another moment the thick heavy body of the beaver had +slipped like oil from under Kazan and Broken Tooth was safe in his +element, two holes bitten clean through his fleshy tail. Baffled in his +effort to get a death-hold on Broken Tooth, Kazan swung like a flash to +the right. The young beavers had not moved. Astonished and frightened at +what they had seen, they stood as if stupefied. Not until they saw Kazan +tearing toward them did they awaken to action. Three of them reached the +water. The fourth and fifth--baby beavers not more than three months +old--were too late. With a single snap of his jaw Kazan broke the hack +of one. The other he pinned down by the throat and shook as a terrier +shakes a rat. When Gray Wolf trotted down to him both of the little +beavers were dead. She sniffed at their soft little bodies and whined. +Perhaps the baby creatures reminded her of runaway Ba-ree, her own baby, +for there was a note of longing in her whine as she nosed them. It was +the mother whine. + +But if Gray Wolf had visions of her own Kazan understood nothing of +them. He had killed two of the creatures that had dared to invade their +home. To the little beavers he had been as merciless as the gray lynx +that had murdered Gray Wolf's first children on the top of the Sun Rock. +Now that he had sunk his teeth into the flesh of his enemies his blood +was filled with a frenzied desire to kill. He raved along the edge of +the pond, snarling at the uneasy water under which Broken Tooth had +disappeared. All of the beavers had taken refuge in the pond, and its +surface was heaving with the passing of many bodies beneath. Kazan came +to the end of the dam. This was new. Instinctively he knew that it was +the work of Broken Tooth and his tribe and for a few moments he tore +fiercely at the matted sticks and limbs. Suddenly there was an upheaval +of water close to the dam, fifty feet out from the bank, and Broken +Tooth's big gray head appeared. For a tense half minute Broken Tooth and +Kazan measured each other at that distance. Then Broken Tooth drew his +wet shining body out of the water to the top of the dam, and squatted +flat, facing Kazan. The old patriarch was alone. Not another beaver had +shown himself. + +The surface of the pond had now become quiet. Vainly Kazan tried to +discover a footing that would allow him to reach the watchful invader. +But between the solid wall of the dam and the bank there was a tangled +framework through which the water rushed with some violence. Three times +Kazan fought to work his way through that tangle, and three times his +efforts ended in sudden plunges into the water. All this time Broken +Tooth did not move. When at last Kazan gave up the attack the old +engineer slipped over the edge of the dam and disappeared under the +water. He had learned that Kazan, like the lynx, could not fight water +and he spread the news among the members of his colony. + +Gray Wolf and Kazan returned to the windfall and lay down in the warm +sun. Half an hour later Broken Tooth drew himself out on the opposite +shore of the pond. He was followed by other beavers. Across the water +they resumed their work as if nothing had happened. The tree-cutters +returned to their trees. Half a dozen worked in the water, carrying +loads of cement and twigs. The middle of the pond was their dead-line. +Across this not one of them passed. A dozen times during the hour that +followed one of the beavers swam up to the dead-line, and rested there, +looking at the shining little bodies of the babies that Kazan had +killed. Perhaps it was the mother, and perhaps some finer instinct +unknown to Kazan told this to Gray Wolf. For Gray Wolf went down twice +to sniff at the dead bodies, and each time--without seeing--she went +when the mother beaver had come to the dead-line. + +The first fierce animus had worn itself from Kazan's blood, and he now +watched the beavers closely. He had learned that they were not fighters. +They were many to one and yet they ran from him like a lot of rabbits. +Broken Tooth had not even struck at him, and slowly it grew upon him +that these invading creatures that used both the water and land would +have to be hunted as he stalked the rabbit and the partridge. Early in +the afternoon he slipped off into the bush, followed by Gray Wolf. He +had often begun the stalking of a rabbit by moving _away_ from it and he +employed this wolf trick now with the beavers. Beyond the windfall he +turned and began trotting up the creek, with the wind. For a quarter of +a mile the creek was deeper than it had ever been. One of their old +fording places was completely submerged, and at last Kazan plunged in +and swam across, leaving Gray Wolf to wait for him on the windfall side +of the stream. + +Alone he made his way quickly in the direction of the dam, traveling two +hundred yards back from the creek. Twenty yards below the dam a dense +thicket of alder and willow grew close to the creek and Kazan took +advantage of this. He approached within a leap or two of the dam without +being seen and crouched close to the ground, ready to spring forth when +the opportunity came. Most of the beavers were now working in the water. +The four or five still on shore were close to the water and some +distance up-stream. After a wait of several minutes Kazan was almost on +the point of staking everything on a wild rush upon his enemies when a +movement on the dam attracted his attention. Half-way out two or three +beavers were at work strengthening the central structure with cement. +Swift as a flash Kazan darted from his cover to the shelter behind the +dam. Here the water was very shallow, the main portion of the stream +finding a passage close to the opposite shore. Nowhere did it reach to +his belly as he waded out. He was completely hidden from the beavers, +and the wind was in his favor. The noise of running water drowned what +little sound he made. Soon he heard the beaver workmen over him. The +branches of the fallen birch gave him a footing, and he clambered up. + +A moment later his head and shoulders appeared above the top of the +dam. Scarce an arm's length away Broken Tooth was forcing into place a +three-foot length of poplar as big around as a man's arm. He was so busy +that he did not hear or see Kazan. Another beaver gave the warning as he +plunged into the pond. Broken Tooth looked up, and his eyes met Kazan's +bared fangs. There was no time to turn. He threw himself back, but it +was a moment too late. Kazan was upon him. His long fangs sank deep into +Broken Tooth's neck. But the old beaver had thrown himself enough back +to make Kazan lose his footing. At the same moment his chisel-like teeth +got a firm hold of the loose skin at Kazan's throat. Thus clinched, with +Kazan's long teeth buried almost to the beaver's jugular, they plunged +down into the deep water of the pond. + +Broken Tooth weighed sixty pounds. The instant he struck the water he +was in his element, and holding tenaciously to the grip he had obtained +on Kazan's neck he sank like a chunk of iron. Kazan was pulled +completely under. The water rushed into his mouth, his ears, eyes and +nose. He was blinded, and his senses were a roaring tumult. But instead +of struggling to free himself he held his breath and buried his teeth +deeper. They touched the soft bottom and for a moment floundered in the +mud. Then Kazan loosened his hold. He was fighting for his own life +now--and not for Broken Tooth's. With all of the strength of his +powerful limbs he struggled to break loose--to rise to the surface, to +fresh air, to life. He clamped his jaws shut, knowing that to breathe +was to die. On land he could have freed himself from Broken Tooth's hold +without an effort. But under water the old beaver's grip was more deadly +than would have been the fangs of a lynx ashore. There was a sudden +swirl of water as a second beaver circled close about the struggling +pair. Had he closed in with Broken Tooth, Kazan's struggles would +quickly have ceased. + +But nature had not foreseen the day when Broken Tooth would be fighting +with fang. The old patriarch had no particular reason now for holding +Kazan down. He was not vengeful. He did not thirst for blood or death. +Finding that he was free, and that this strange enemy that had twice +leaped upon him could do him no harm, he loosed his hold. It was not a +moment too soon for Kazan. He was struggling weakly when he rose to the +surface of the water. Three-quarters drowned, he succeeded in raising +his forepaws over a slender branch that projected from the dam. This +gave him time to fill his lungs with air, and to cough forth the water +that had almost ended his existence. For ten minutes he clung to the +branch before he dared attempt the short swim ashore. When he reached +the bank he dragged himself up weakly. All the strength was gone from +his body. His limbs shook. His jaws hung loose. He was beaten--completely +beaten. And a creature without a fang had worsted him. He felt the +abasement of it. Drenched and slinking, he went to the windfall, lay +down in the sun, and waited for Gray Wolf. + +Days followed in which Kazan's desire to destroy his beaver enemies +became the consuming passion of his life. Each day the dam became more +formidable. Cement work in the water was carried on by the beavers +swiftly and safely. The water in the pond rose higher each twenty-four +hours, and the pond grew steadily wider. The water had now been turned +into the depression that encircled the windfall, and in another week or +two, if the beavers continued their work, Kazan's and Gray Wolf's home +would be nothing more than a small island in the center of a wide area +of submerged swamp. + +Kazan hunted only for food now, and not for pleasure. Ceaselessly he +watched his opportunity to leap upon incautious members of Broken +Tooth's tribe. The third day after the struggle under the water he +killed a big beaver that approached too close to the willow thicket. The +fifth day two of the young beavers wandered into the flooded depression +back of the windfall and Kazan caught them in shallow water and tore +them into pieces. After these successful assaults the beavers began to +work mostly at night. This was to Kazan's advantage, for he was a +night-hunter. On each of two consecutive nights he killed a beaver. +Counting the young, he had killed seven when the otter came. + +Never had Broken Tooth been placed between two deadlier or more +ferocious enemies than the two that now assailed him. On shore Kazan +was his master because of his swiftness, keener scent, and fighting +trickery. In the water the otter was a still greater menace. He was +swifter than the fish that he caught for food. His teeth were like steel +needles. He was so sleek and slippery that it would have been impossible +for them to hold him with their chisel-like teeth could they have caught +him. The otter, like the beaver, possessed no hunger for blood. Yet in +all the Northland he was the greatest destroyer of their kind--an even +greater destroyer than man. He came and passed like a plague, and it was +in the coldest days of winter that greatest destruction came with him. +In those days he did not assault the beavers in their snug houses. He +did what man could do only with dynamite--made an embrasure through +their dam. Swiftly the water would fall, the surface ice would crash +down, and the beaver houses would be left out of water. Then followed +death for the beavers--starvation and cold. With the protecting water +gone from about their houses, the drained pond a chaotic mass of broken +ice, and the temperature forty or fifty degrees below zero, they would +die within a few hours. For the beaver, with his thick coat of fur, can +stand less cold than man. Through all the long winter the water about +his home is as necessary to him as fire to a child. + +But it was summer now and Broken Tooth and his colony had no very great +fear of the otter. It would cost them some labor to repair the damage he +did, but there was plenty of food and it was warm. For two days the +otter frisked about the dam and the deep water of the pond. Kazan took +him for a beaver, and tried vainly to stalk him. The otter regarded +Kazan suspiciously and kept well out of his way. Neither knew that the +other was an ally. Meanwhile the beavers continued their work with +greater caution. The water in the pond had now risen to a point where +the engineers had begun the construction of three lodges. On the third +day the destructive instinct of the otter began its work. He began to +examine the dam, close down to the foundation. It was not long before he +found a weak spot to begin work on, and with his sharp teeth and small +bullet-like head he commenced his drilling operations. Inch by inch he +worked his way through the dam, burrowing and gnawing over and under the +timbers, and always through the cement. The round hole he made was fully +seven inches in diameter. In six hours he had cut it through the +five-foot base of the dam. + +A torrent of water began to rush from the pond as if forced out by a +hydraulic pump. Kazan and Gray Wolf were hiding in the willows on the +south side of the pond when this happened. They heard the roar of the +stream tearing through the embrasure and Kazan saw the otter crawl up to +the top of the dam and shake himself like a huge water-rat. Within +thirty minutes the water in the pond had fallen perceptibly, and the +force of the water pouring through the hole was constantly increasing +the outlet. In another half hour the foundations of the three lodges, +which had been laid in about ten inches of water, stood on mud. Not +until Broken Tooth discovered that the water was receding from the +houses did he take alarm. He was thrown into a panic, and very soon +every beaver in the colony tearing excitedly about the pond. They swam +swiftly from shore to shore, paying no attention to the dead-line now. +Broken Tooth and the older workmen made for the dam, and with a snarling +cry the otter plunged down among them and out like a flash for the creek +above the pond. Swiftly the water continued to fall and as it fell the +excitement of the beavers increased. They forgot Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +Several of the younger members of the colony drew themselves ashore on +the windfall side of the pond, and whining softly Kazan was about to +slip back through the willows when one of the older beavers waddled up +through the deepening mud close on his ambush. In two leaps Kazan was +upon him, with Gray Wolf a leap behind him. The short fierce struggle in +the mud was seen by the other beavers and they crossed swiftly to the +opposite side of the pond. The water had receded to a half of its +greatest width before Broken Tooth and his workmen discovered the breach +in the wall of the dam. The work of repair was begun at once. For this +work sticks and brush of considerable size were necessary, and to reach +this material the beavers were compelled to drag their heavy bodies +through the ten or fifteen yards of soft mud left by the falling water. +Peril of fang no longer kept them back. Instinct told them that they +were fighting for their existence--that if the embrasure were not filled +up and the water kept in the pond they would very soon be completely +exposed to their enemies. It was a day of slaughter for Gray Wolf and +Kazan. They killed two more beavers in the mud close to the willows. +Then they crossed the creek below the dam and cut off three beavers in +the depression behind the windfall. There was no escape for these three. +They were torn into pieces. Farther up the creek Kazan caught a young +beaver and killed it. + +Late in the afternoon the slaughter ended. Broken Tooth and his +courageous engineers had at last repaired the breach, and the water in +the pond began to rise. + +Half a mile up the creek the big otter was squatted on a log basking in +the last glow of the setting sun. To-morrow he would go and do over +again his work of destruction. That was his method. For him it was play. + +But that strange and unseen arbiter of the forests called O-ee-ki, "the +Spirit," by those who speak the wild tongue, looked down at last with +mercy upon Broken Tooth and his death-stricken tribe. For in that last +glow of sunset Kazan and Gray Wolf slipped stealthily up the creek--to +find the otter basking half asleep on the log. + +The day's work, a full stomach, and the pool of warm sunlight in which +he lay had all combined to make the otter sleepy. He was as motionless +as the log on which he had stretched himself. He was big and gray and +old. For ten years he had lived to prove his cunning superior to that of +man. Vainly traps had been set for him. Wily trappers had built narrow +sluice-ways of rock and tree in small streams for him, but the old otter +had foiled their cunning and escaped the steel jaws waiting at the lower +end of each sluice. The trail he left in soft mud told of his size. A +few trappers had seen him. His soft pelt would long ago have found its +way to London, Paris or Berlin had it not been for his cunning. He was +fit for a princess, a duke or an emperor. For ten years he had lived +and escaped the demands of the rich. + +But this was summer. No trapper would have killed him now, for his pelt +was worthless. Nature and instinct both told him this. At this season he +did not dread man, for there was no man to dread. So he lay asleep on +the log, oblivious to everything but the comfort of sleep and the warmth +of the sun. + +Soft-footed, searching still for signs of the furry enemies who had +invaded their domain, Kazan slipped along the creek. Gray Wolf ran close +at his shoulder. They made no sound, and the wind was in their +favor--bringing scents toward them. It brought the otter smell. To Kazan +and Gray Wolf it was the scent of a water animal, rank and fishy, and +they took it for the beaver. They advanced still more cautiously. Then +Kazan saw the big otter asleep on the log and he gave the warning to +Gray Wolf. She stopped, standing with her head thrown up, while Kazan +made his stealthy advance. The otter stirred uneasily. It was growing +dusk. The golden pool of sunlight had faded away. Back in the darkening +timber an owl greeted night with its first-low call. The otter breathed +deeply. His whiskered muzzle twitched. He was awakening--stirring--when +Kazan leaped upon him. Face to face, in fair fight, the old otter could +have given a good account of himself. But there was no chance now. The +wild itself had for the first time in his life become his deadliest +enemy. It was not man now--but O-ee-ki, "the Spirit," that had laid its +hand upon him. And from the Spirit there was no escape. Kazan's fangs +sank into his soft jugular. Perhaps he died without knowing what it was +that had leaped upon him. For he died--quickly, and Kazan and Gray Wolf +went on their way, hunting still for enemies to slaughter, and not +knowing that in the otter they had killed the one ally who would have +driven the beavers from their swamp home. + +The days that followed grew more and more hopeless for Kazan and Gray +Wolf. With the otter gone Broken Tooth and his tribe held the winning +hand. Each day the water backed a little farther into the depression +surrounding the windfall. By the middle of July only a narrow strip of +land connected the windfall hummock with the dry land of the swamp. In +deep water the beavers now worked unmolested. Inch by inch the water +rose, until there came the day when it began to overflow the connecting +strip. For the last time Kazan and Gray Wolf passed from their windfall +home and traveled up the stream between the two ridges. The creek held a +new meaning for them now and as they traveled they sniffed its odors and +listened to its sounds with an interest they had never known before. It +was an interest mingled a little with fear, for something in the manner +in which the beavers had beaten them reminded Kazan and Gray Wolf of +_man_. And that night, when in the radiance of the big white moon they +came within scent of the beaver colony that Broken Tooth had left, they +turned quickly northward into the plains. Thus had brave old Broken +Tooth taught them to respect the flesh and blood and handiwork of his +tribe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + +July and August of 1911 were months of great fires in the Northland. The +swamp home of Kazan and Gray Wolf, and the green valley between the two +ridges, had escaped the seas of devastating flame; but now, as they set +forth on their wandering adventures again, it was not long before their +padded feet came in contact with the seared and blackened desolation +that had followed so closely after the plague and starvation of the +preceding winter. In his humiliation and defeat, after being driven from +his swamp home by the beavers, Kazan led his blind mate first into the +south. Twenty miles beyond the ridge they struck the fire-killed +forests. Winds from Hudson's Bay had driven the flames in an unbroken +sea into the west, and they had left not a vestige of life or a patch of +green. Blind Gray Wolf could not see the blackened world, but she +_sensed_ it. It recalled to her memory of that other fire, after the +battle on the Sun Rock; and all of her wonderful instincts, sharpened +and developed by her blindness, told her that to the north--and not +south--lay the hunting-grounds they were seeking. The strain of dog that +was in Kazan still pulled him south. It was not because he sought man, +for to man he had now become as deadly an enemy as Gray Wolf herself. It +was simply dog instinct to travel southward; in the face of fire it was +wolf instinct to travel northward. At the end of the third day Gray Wolf +won. They recrossed the little valley between the two ridges, and swung +north and west into the Athabasca country, striking a course that would +ultimately bring them to the headwaters of the McFarlane River. + +Late in the preceding autumn a prospector had come up to Fort Smith, on +the Slave River, with a pickle bottle filled with gold dust and nuggets. +He had made the find on the McFarlane. The first mails had taken the +news to the outside world, and by midwinter the earliest members of a +treasure-hunting horde were rushing into the country by snow-shoe and +dog-sledge. Other finds came thick and fast. The McFarlane was rich in +free gold, and miners by the score staked out their claims along it and +began work. Latecomers swung to new fields farther north and east, and +to Fort Smith came rumors of "finds" richer than those of the Yukon. A +score of men at first--then a hundred, five hundred, a thousand--rushed +into the new country. Most of these were from the prairie countries to +the south, and from the placer beds of the Saskatchewan and the Frazer. +From the far North, traveling by way of the Mackenzie and the Liard, +came a smaller number of seasoned prospectors and adventurers from the +Yukon--men who knew what it meant to starve and freeze and die by +inches. + +One of these late comers was Sandy McTrigger. There were several reasons +why Sandy had left the Yukon. He was "in bad" with the police who +patrolled the country west of Dawson, and he was "broke." In spite of +these facts he was one of the best prospectors that had ever followed +the shores of the Klondike. He had made discoveries running up to a +million or two, and had promptly lost them through gambling and drink. +He had no conscience, and little fear. Brutality was the chief thing +written in his face. His undershot jaw, his wide eyes, low forehead and +grizzly mop of red hair proclaimed him at once as a man not to be +trusted beyond one's own vision or the reach of a bullet. It was +suspected that he had killed a couple of men, and robbed others, but as +yet the police had failed to get anything "on" him. But along with this +bad side of him, Sandy McTrigger possessed a coolness and a courage +which even his worst enemies could not but admire, and also certain +mental depths which his unpleasant features did not proclaim. + +Inside of six months Red Gold City had sprung up on the McFarlane, a +hundred and fifty miles from Fort Smith, and Fort Smith was five hundred +miles from civilization. When Sandy came he looked over the crude +collection of shacks, gambling houses and saloons in the new town, and +made up his mind that the time was not ripe for any of his "inside" +schemes just yet. He gambled a little, and won sufficient to buy himself +grub and half an outfit. A feature of this outfit was an old +muzzle-loading rifle. Sandy, who always carried the latest Savage on +the market, laughed at it. But it was the best his finances would allow +of. He started south--up the McFarlane. Beyond a certain point on the +river prospectors had found no gold. Sandy pushed confidently _beyond_ +this point. Not until he was in new country did he begin his search. +Slowly he worked his way up a small tributary whose headwaters were +fifty or sixty miles to the south and east. Here and there he found +fairly good placer gold. He might have panned six or eight dollars' +worth a day. With this much he was disgusted. Week after week he +continued to work his way up-stream, and the farther he went the poorer +his pans became. At last only occasionally did he find colors. After +such disgusting weeks as these Sandy was dangerous--when in the company +of others. Alone he was harmless. + +One afternoon he ran his canoe ashore on a white strip of sand. This was +at a bend, where the stream had widened, and gave promise of at least a +few colors. He had bent down close to the edge of the water when +something caught his attention on the wet sand. What he saw were the +footprints of animals. Two had come down to drink. They had stood side +by side. And the footprints were fresh--made not more than an hour or +two before. A gleam of interest shot into Sandy's eyes. He looked behind +him, and up and down the stream. + +"Wolves," he grunted. "Wish I could 'a' shot at 'em with that old +minute-gun back there. Gawd--listen to that! And in broad daylight, +too!" + +He jumped to his feet, staring off into the bush. + +A quarter of a mile away Gray Wolf had caught the dreaded scent of man +in the wind, and was giving voice to her warning. It was a long wailing +howl, and not until its last echoes had died away did Sandy McTrigger +move. Then he returned to the canoe, took out his old gun, put a fresh +cap on the nipple and disappeared quickly over the edge of the bank. + +For a week Kazan and Gray Wolf had been wandering about the headwaters +of the McFarlane and this was the first time since the preceding winter +that Gray Wolf had caught the scent of man in the air. When the wind +brought the danger-signal to her she was alone. Two or three minutes +before the scent came to her Kazan had left her side in swift pursuit of +a snow-shoe rabbit, and she lay flat on her belly under a bush, waiting +for him. In these moments when she was alone Gray Wolf was constantly +sniffing the air. Blindness had developed her scent and hearing until +they were next to infallible. First she had heard the rattle of Sandy +McTrigger's paddle against the side of his canoe a quarter of a mile +away. Scent had followed swiftly. Five minutes after her warning howl +Kazan stood at her side, his head flung up, his jaws open and panting. +Sandy had hunted Arctic foxes, and he was using the Eskimo tactics now, +swinging in a half-circle until he should come up in the face of the +wind. Kazan caught a single whiff of the man-tainted air and his spine +grew stiff. But blind Gray Wolf was keener than the little red-eyed fox +of the North. Her pointed nose slowly followed Sandy's progress. She +heard a dry stick crack under his feet three hundred yards away. She +caught the metallic click of his gun-barrel as it struck a birch +sapling. The moment she lost Sandy in the wind she whined and rubbed +herself against Kazan and trotted a few steps to the southwest. + +At times such as this Kazan seldom refused to take guidance from her. +They trotted away side by side and by the time Sandy was creeping up +snake-like with the wind in his face, Kazan was peering from the fringe +of river brush down upon the canoe on the white strip of sand. When +Sandy returned, after an hour of futile stalking, two fresh tracks led +straight down to the canoe. He looked at them in amazement and then a +sinister grin wrinkled his ugly face. He chuckled as he went to his kit +and dug out a small rubber bag. From this he drew a tightly corked +bottle, filled with gelatine capsules. In each little capsule were five +grains of strychnine. There were dark hints that once upon a time Sandy +McTrigger had tried one of these capsules by dropping it in a cup of +coffee and giving it to a man, but the police had never proved it. He +was expert in the use of poison. Probably he had killed a thousand foxes +in his time, and he chuckled again as he counted out a dozen of the +capsules and thought how easy it would be to get this inquisitive pair +of wolves. Two or three days before he had killed a caribou, and each of +the capsules he now rolled up in a little ball of deer fat, doing the +work with short sticks in place of his fingers, so that there would be +no man-smell clinging to the death-baits. Before sundown Sandy set out +at right-angles over the plain, planting the baits. Most of them he hung +to low bushes. Others he dropped in worn rabbit and caribou trails. Then +he returned to the creek and cooked his supper. + +Then next morning he was up early, and off to the poison baits. The +first bait was untouched. The second was as he had planted it. The third +was gone. A thrill shot through Sandy as he looked about him. Somewhere +within a radius of two or three hundred yards he would find his game. +Then his glance fell to the ground under the bush where he had hung the +poison capsule and an oath broke from his lips. The bait had not been +eaten. The caribou fat lay scattered under the bush and still imbedded +in the largest portion of it was the little white capsule--unbroken. It +was Sandy's first experience with a wild creature whose instincts were +sharpened by blindness, and he was puzzled. He had never known this to +happen before. If a fox or a wolf could be lured to the point of +touching a bait, it followed that the bait was eaten. Sandy went on to +the fourth and the fifth baits. They were untouched. The sixth was torn +to pieces, like the third. In this instance the capsule was broken and +the white powder scattered. Two more poison baits Sandy found pulled +down in this manner. He knew that Kazan and Gray Wolf had done the work, +for he found the marks of their feet in a dozen different places. The +accumulated bad humor of weeks of futile labor found vent in his +disappointment and anger. At last he had found something tangible to +curse. The failure of his poison baits he accepted as a sort of climax +to his general bad luck. Everything was against him, he believed, and he +made up his mind to return to Red Gold City. Early in the afternoon he +launched his canoe and drifted down-stream with the current. He was +content to let the current do all of the work to-day, and he used his +paddle just enough to keep his slender craft head on. He leaned back +comfortably and smoked his pipe, with the old rifle between his knees. +The wind was in his face and he kept a sharp watch for game. + +It was late in the afternoon when Kazan and Gray Wolf came out on a +sand-bar five or six miles down-stream. Kazan was lapping up the cool +water when Sandy drifted quietly around a bend a hundred yards above +them. If the wind had been right, or if Sandy had been using his paddle, +Gray Wolf would have detected danger. It was the metallic click-click of +the old-fashioned lock of Sandy's rifle that awakened her to a sense of +peril. Instantly she was thrilled by the nearness of it. Kazan heard the +sound and stopped drinking to face it. In that moment Sandy pressed the +trigger. A belch of smoke, a roar of gunpowder, and Kazan felt a red-hot +stream of fire pass with the swiftness of a lightning-flash through his +brain. He stumbled back, his legs gave way under him, and he crumpled +down in a limp heap. Gray Wolf darted like a streak off into the bush. +Blind, she had not seen Kazan wilt down upon the white sand. Not until +she was a quarter of a mile away from the terrifying thunder of the +white man's rifle did she stop and wait for him. + +Sandy McTrigger grounded his canoe on the sand-bar with an exultant +yell. + +"Got you, you old devil, didn't I?" he cried. "I'd 'a' got the other, +too, if I'd 'a' had something besides this damned old relic!" + +He turned Kazan's head over with the butt of his gun, and the leer of +satisfaction in his face gave place to a sudden look of amazement. For +the first time he saw the collar about Kazan's neck. + +"My Gawd, it ain't a wolf," he gasped. "It's a dog, Sandy McTrigger--_a +dog!"_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +SANDY'S METHOD + + +McTrigger dropped on his knees in the sand. The look of exultation was +gone from his face. He twisted the collar about the dog's limp neck +until he came to the worn plate, on which he could make out the faintly +engraved letters _K-a-z-a-n_. He spelled the letters out one by one, and +the look in his face was of one who still disbelieved what he had seen +and heard. + +"A dog!" he exclaimed again. "A dog, Sandy McTrigger an' a--a beauty!" + +He rose to his feet and looked down on his victim. A pool of blood lay +in the white sand at the end of Kazan's nose. After a moment Sandy bent +over to see where his bullet had struck. His inspection filled him with +a new and greater interest. The heavy ball from the muzzle-loader had +struck Kazan fairly on top of the head. It was a glancing blow that had +not even broken the skull, and like a flash Sandy understood the +quivering and twitching of Kazan's shoulders and legs. He had thought +that they were the last muscular throes of death. But Kazan was not +dying. He was only stunned, and would be on his feet again in a few +minutes. Sandy was a connoisseur of dogs--of dogs that had worn sledge +traces. He had lived among them two-thirds of his life. He could tell +their age, their value, and a part of their history at a glance. In the +snow he could tell the trail of a Mackenzie hound from that of a +Malemute, and the track of an Eskimo dog from that of a Yukon husky. He +looked at Kazan's feet. They were wolf feet, and he chuckled. Kazan was +part wild. He was big and powerful, and Sandy thought of the coming +winter, and of the high prices that dogs would bring at Red Gold City. +He went to the canoe and returned with a roll of stout moose-hide +babiche. Then he sat down cross-legged in front of Kazan and began +making a muzzle. He did this by plaiting babiche thongs in the same +manner that one does in making the web of a snow-shoe. In ten minutes he +had the muzzle over Kazan's nose and fastened securely about his neck. +To the dog's collar he then fastened a ten-foot rope of babiche. After +that he sat back and waited for Kazan to come to life. + +When Kazan first lifted his head he could not see. There was a red film +before his eyes. But this passed away swiftly and he saw the man. His +first instinct was to rise to his feet. Three times he fell back before +he could stand up. Sandy was squatted six feet from him, holding the end +of the babiche, and grinning. Kazan's fangs gleamed back. He growled, +and the crest along his spine rose menacingly. Sandy jumped to his feet. + +"Guess I know what you're figgering on," he said. "I've had _your_ kind +before. The dam' wolves have turned you bad, an' you'll need a whole lot +of club before you're right again. Now, look here." + +Sandy had taken the precaution of bringing a thick club along with the +babiche. He picked it up from where he had dropped it in the sand. +Kazan's strength had fairly returned to him now. He was no longer dizzy. +The mist had cleared away from his eyes. Before him he saw once more his +old enemy, man--man and the club. All of the wild ferocity of his +nature was roused in an instant. Without reasoning he knew that Gray +Wolf was gone, and that this man was accountable for her going. He knew +that this man had also brought him his own hurt, and what he ascribed to +the man he also attributed to the club. In his newer undertaking of +things, born of freedom and Gray Wolf, Man and Club were one and +inseparable. With a snarl he leaped at Sandy. The man was not expecting +a direct assault, and before he could raise his club or spring aside +Kazan had landed full on his chest. The muzzle about Kazan's jaws saved +him. Fangs that would have torn his throat open snapped harmlessly. +Under the weight of the dog's body he fell back, as if struck down by a +catapult. + +As quick as a cat he was on his feet again, with the end of the babiche +twisted several times about his hand. Kazan leaped again, and this time +he was met by a furious swing of the club. It smashed against his +shoulder, and sent him down in the sand. Before he could recover Sandy +was upon him, with all the fury of a man gone mad. He shortened the +babiche by twisting it again and again about his hand, and the club rose +and fell with the skill and strength of one long accustomed to its use. +The first blows served only to add to Kazan's hatred of man, and the +ferocity and fearlessness of his attacks. Again and again he leaped in, +and each time the club fell upon him with a force that threatened to +break his bones. There was a tense hard look about Sandy's cruel mouth. +He had never known a dog like this before, and he was a bit nervous, +even with Kazan muzzled. Three times Kazan's fangs would have sunk deep +in his flesh had it not been for the babiche. And if the thongs about +his jaws should slip, or break--. + +Sandy followed up the thought with a smashing blow that landed on +Kazan's head, and once more the old battler fell limp upon the sand. +McTrigger's breath was coming in quick gasps. He was almost winded. Not +until the club slipped from his hand did he realize how desperate the +fight had been. Before Kazan recovered from the blow that had stunned +him Sandy examined the muzzle and strengthened it by adding another +babiche thong. Then he dragged Kazan to a log that high water had +thrown up on the shore a few yards away and made the end of the babiche +rope fast to a dead snag. After that he pulled his canoe higher up on +the sand, and began to prepare camp for the night. + +For some minutes after Kazan's stunned senses had become normal he lay +motionless, watching Sandy McTrigger. Every bone in his body gave him +pain. His jaws were sore and bleeding. His upper lip was smashed where +the club had fallen. One eye was almost closed. Several times Sandy came +near, much pleased at what he regarded as the good results of the +beating. Each time he brought the club. The third time he prodded Kazan +with it, and the dog snarled and snapped savagely at the end of it. That +was what Sandy wanted--it was an old trick of the dog-slaver. Instantly +he was using the club again, until with a whining cry Kazan slunk under +the protection of the snag to which he was fastened. He could scarcely +drag himself. His right forepaw was smashed. His hindquarters sank under +him. For a time after this second beating he could not have escaped had +he been free. + +Sandy was in unusually good humor. + +"I'll take the devil out of you all right," he told Kazan for the +twentieth time. "There's nothin' like beatin's to make dogs an' wimmin +live up to the mark. A month from now you'll be worth two hundred +dollars or I'll skin you alive!" + +Three or four times before dusk Sandy worked to rouse Kazan's animosity. +But there was no longer any desire left in Kazan to fight. His two +terrific beatings, and the crushing blow of the bullet against his +skull, had made him sick. He lay with his head between his forepaws, his +eyes closed, and did not see McTrigger. He paid no attention to the meat +that was thrown under his nose. He did not know when the last of the sun +sank behind the western forests, or when the darkness came. But at last +something roused him from his stupor. To his dazed and sickened brain it +came like a call from out of the far past, and he raised his head and +listened. Out on the sand McTrigger had built a fire, and the man stood +in the red glow of it now, facing the dark shadows beyond the shoreline. +He, too, was listening. What had roused Kazan came again now--the lost +mourning cry of Gray Wolf far out on the plain. + +With a whine Kazan was on his feet, tugging at the babiche. Sandy +snatched up his club, and leaped toward him. + +"Down, you brute!" he commanded. + +In the firelight the club rose and fell with ferocious quickness. When +McTrigger returned to the fire he was breathing hard again. He tossed +his club beside the blankets he had spread out for a bed. It was a +different looking club now. It was covered with blood and hair. + +"Guess that'll take the spirit out of him," he chuckled. "It'll do +that--or kill 'im!" + +Several times that night Kazan heard Gray Wolf's call. He whined softly +in response, fearing the club. He watched the fire until the last embers +of it died out, and then cautiously dragged himself from under the snag. +Two or three times he tried to stand on his feet, but fell back each +time. His legs were not broken, but the pain of standing on them was +excruciating. He was hot and feverish. All that night he had craved a +drink of water. When Sandy crawled out from between his blankets in the +early dawn he gave him both meat and water. Kazan drank the water, but +would not touch the meat. Sandy regarded the change in him with +satisfaction. By the time the sun was up he had finished his breakfast +and was ready to leave. He approached Kazan fearlessly now, without the +club. Untying the babiche he dragged the dog to the canoe. Kazan slunk +in the sand while his captor fastened the end of the hide rope to the +stern of the canoe. Sandy grinned. What was about to happen would be fun +for him. In the Yukon he had learned how to take the spirit out of dogs. + +He pushed off, bow foremost. Bracing himself with his paddle he then +began to pull Kazan toward the water. In a few moments Kazan stood with +his forefeet planted in the damp sand at the edge of the stream. For a +brief interval Sandy allowed the babiche to fall slack. Then with a +sudden powerful pull he jerked Kazan out into the water. Instantly he +sent the canoe into midstream, swung it quickly down with the current, +and began to paddle enough to keep the babiche taut about his victim's +neck. In spite of his sickness and injuries Kazan was now compelled to +swim to keep his head above water. In the wash of the canoe, and with +Sandy's strokes growing steadily stronger, his position became each +moment one of increasing torture. At times his shaggy head was pulled +completely under water. At others Sandy would wait until he had drifted +alongside, and then thrust him under with the end of his paddle. He grew +weaker. At the end of a half-mile he was drowning. Not until then did +Sandy pull him alongside and drag him into the canoe. The dog fell limp +and gasping in the bottom. Brutal though Sandy's methods had been, they +had worked his purpose. In Kazan there was no longer a desire to fight. +He no longer struggled for freedom. He knew that this man was his +master, and for the time his spirit was gone. All he desired now was to +be allowed to lie in the bottom of the canoe, out of reach of the club, +and safe from the water. The club lay between him and the man. The end +of it was within a foot or two of his nose, and what he smelled was his +own blood. + +For five days and five nights the journey down-stream continued, and +McTrigger's process of civilizing Kazan was continued in three more +beatings with the club, and another resort to the water torture. On the +morning of the sixth day they reached Red Gold City, and McTrigger put +up his tent close to the river. Somewhere he obtained a chain for Kazan, +and after fastening the dog securely back of the tent he cut off the +babiche muzzle. + +"You can't put on meat in a muzzle," he told his prisoner. "An' I want +you to git strong--an' fierce as hell. I've got an idee. It's an idee +you can lick your weight in wildcats. We'll pull off a stunt pretty soon +that'll fill our pockets with dust. I've done it afore, and we can do it +_here_. Wolf an' dog--s'elp me Gawd but it'll be a drawin' card!" + +Twice a day after this he brought fresh raw meat to Kazan. Quickly +Kazan's spirit and courage returned to him. The soreness left his limbs. +His battered jaws healed. And after the fourth day each time that Sandy +came with meat he greeted him with the challenge of his snarling fangs. +McTrigger did not beat him now. He gave him no fish, no tallow and +meal--nothing but raw meat. He traveled five miles up the river to bring +in the fresh entrail of a caribou that had been killed. One day Sandy +brought another man with him and when the stranger came a step too near +Kazan made a sudden swift lunge at him. The man jumped back with a +startled oath. + +"He'll do," he growled. "He's lighter by ten or fifteen pounds than the +Dane, but he's got the teeth, an' the quickness, an' he'll give a good +show before he goes under." + +"I'll make you a bet of twenty-five per cent. of my share that he don't +go under," offered Sandy. + +"Done!" said the other. "How long before he'll be ready?" + +Sandy thought a moment. + +"Another week," he said. "He won't have his weight before then. A week +from to-day, we'll say. Next Tuesday night. Does that suit you, Harker?" + +Harker nodded. + +"Next Tuesday night," he agreed. Then he added, "I'll make it a _half_ +of my share that the Dane kills your wolf-dog." + +Sandy took a long look at Kazan. + +"I'll just take you on that," he said. Then, as he shook Harker's hand, +"I don't believe there's a dog between here and the Yukon that can kill +the wolf!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +PROFESSOR McGILL + + +Red Gold City was ripe for a night of relaxation. There had been some +gambling, a few fights and enough liquor to create excitement now and +then, but the presence of the mounted police had served to keep things +unusually tame compared with events a few hundred miles farther north, +in the Dawson country. The entertainment proposed by Sandy McTrigger and +Jan Harker met with excited favor. The news spread for twenty miles +about Red Gold City and there had never been greater excitement in the +town than on the afternoon and night of the big fight. This was largely +because Kazan and the huge Dane had been placed on exhibition, each dog +in a specially made cage of his own, and a fever of betting began. Three +hundred men, each of whom was paying five dollars to see the battle, +viewed the gladiators through the bars of their cages. Harker's dog was +a combination of Great Dane and mastiff, born in the North, and bred to +the traces. Betting favored him by the odds of two to one. Occasionally +it ran three to one. At these odds there was plenty of Kazan money. +Those who were risking their money on him were the older wilderness +men--men who had spent their lives among dogs, and who knew what the red +glint in Kazan's eyes meant. An old Kootenay miner spoke low in +another's ear: + +"I'd bet on 'im even. I'd give odds if I had to. He'll fight all around +the Dane. The Dane won't have no method." + +"But he's got the weight," said the other dubiously. "Look at his jaws, +an' his shoulders--" + +"An' his big feet, an' his soft throat, an' the clumsy thickness of his +belly," interrupted the Kootenay man. "For Gawd's sake, man, take my +word for it, an' don't put your money on the Dane!" + +Others thrust themselves between them. At first Kazan had snarled at all +these faces about him. But now he lay back against the boarded side of +the cage and eyed them sullenly from between his forepaws. + +The fight was to be pulled off in Barker's place, a combination of +saloon and cafe. The benches and tables had been cleared out and in the +center of the one big room a cage ten feet square rested on a platform +three and a half feet from the floor. Seats for the three hundred +spectators were drawn closely around this. Suspended just above the open +top of the cage were two big oil lamps with glass reflectors. + +It was eight o'clock when Harker, McTrigger and two other men bore Kazan +to the arena by means of the wooden bars that projected from the bottom +of his cage. The big Dane was already in the fighting cage. He stood +blinking his eyes in the brilliant light of the reflecting lamps. He +pricked up his ears when he saw Kazan. Kazan did not show his fangs. +Neither revealed the expected animosity. It was the first they had seen +of each other, and a murmur of disappointment swept the ranks of the +three hundred men. The Dane remained as motionless as a rock when Kazan +was prodded from his own cage into the fighting cage. He did not leap or +snarl. He regarded Kazan with a dubious questioning poise to his +splendid head, and then looked again to the expectant and excited faces +of the waiting men. For a few moments Kazan stood stiff-legged, facing +the Dane. Then his shoulders dropped, and he, too, coolly faced the +crowd that had expected a fight to the death. A laugh of derision swept +through the closely seated rows. Catcalls, jeering taunts flung at +McTrigger and Harker, and angry voices demanding their money back +mingled with a tumult of growing discontent. Sandy's face was red with +mortification and rage. The blue veins in Barker's forehead had swollen +twice their normal size. He shook his fist in the face of the crowd, and +shouted: + +"Wait! Give 'em a chance, you dam' fools!" + +At his words every voice was stilled. Kazan had turned. He was facing +the huge Dane. And the Dane had turned his eyes to Kazan. Cautiously, +prepared for a lunge or a sidestep, Kazan advanced a little. The Dane's +shoulders bristled. He, too, advanced upon Kazan. Four feet apart they +stood rigid. One could have heard a whisper in the room now. Sandy and +Harker, standing close to the cage, scarcely breathed. Splendid in every +limb and muscle, warriors of a hundred fights, and fearless to the point +of death, the two half-wolf victims of man stood facing each other. None +could see the questioning look in their brute eyes. None knew that in +this thrilling moment the unseen hand of the wonderful Spirit God of the +wilderness hovered between them, and that one of its miracles was +descending upon them. It was _understanding_. Meeting in the +open--rivals in the traces--they would have been rolling in the throes +of terrific battle. But _here_ came that mute appeal of brotherhood. In +the final moment, when only a step separated them, and when men expected +to see the first mad lunge, the splendid Dane slowly raised his head and +looked over Kazan's back through the glare of the lights. Harker +trembled, and under his breath he cursed. The Dane's throat was open to +Kazan. But between the beasts had passed the voiceless pledge of peace. +Kazan did not leap. He turned. And shoulder to shoulder--splendid in +their contempt of man--they stood and looked through the bars of their +prison into the one of human faces. + +A roar burst from the crowd--a roar of anger, of demand, of threat. In +his rage Harker drew a revolver and leveled it at the Dane. Above the +tumult of the crowd a single voice stopped him. + +"Hold!" it demanded. "Hold--in the name of the law!" + +For a moment there was silence. Every face turned in the direction of +the voice. Two men stood on chairs behind the last row. One was Sergeant +Brokaw, of the Royal Northwest Mounted. It was he who had spoken. He was +holding up a hand, commanding silence and attention. On the chair beside +him stood another man. He was thin, with drooping shoulders, and a pale +smooth face--a little man, whose physique and hollow cheeks told nothing +of the years he had spent close up along the raw edge of the Arctic. It +was he who spoke now, while the sergeant held up his hand. His voice was +low and quiet: + +"I'll give the owners five hundred dollars for those dogs," he said. + +Every man in the room heard the offer. Harker looked at Sandy. For an +instant their heads were close together. + +"They won't fight, and they'll make good team-mates," the little man +went on. "I'll give the owners five hundred dollars." + +Harker raised a hand. + +"Make it six," he said. "Make it six and they're yours." + +The little man hesitated. Then he nodded. + +"I'll give you six hundred," he agreed. + +Murmurs of discontent rose throughout the crowd. Harker climbed to the +edge of the platform. + +"We ain't to blame because they wouldn't fight," he shouted, "but if +there's any of you small enough to want your money back you can git it +as you go out. The dogs laid down on us, that's all. We ain't to blame." + +The little man was edging his way between the chairs, accompanied by the +sergeant of police. With his pale face close to the sapling bars of the +cage he looked at Kazan and the big Dane. + +"I guess we'll be good friends," he said, and he spoke so low that only +the dogs heard his voice. "It's a big price, but we'll charge it to the +Smithsonian, lads. I'm going to need a couple of four-footed friends of +your moral caliber." + +And no one knew why Kazan and the Dane drew nearer to the little +scientist's side of the cage as he pulled out a big roll of bills and +counted out six hundred dollars for Harker and Sandy McTrigger. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ALONE IN DARKNESS + + +Never had the terror and loneliness of blindness fallen upon Gray Wolf +as in the days that followed the shooting of Kazan and his capture by +Sandy McTrigger. For hours after the shot she crouched in the bush back +from the river, waiting for him to come to her. She had faith that he +would come, as he had come a thousand times before, and she lay close on +her belly, sniffing the air, and whining when it brought no scent of her +mate. Day and night were alike an endless chaos of darkness to her now, +but she knew when the sun went down. She sensed the first deepening +shadows of evening, and she knew that the stars were out, and that the +river lay in moonlight. It was a night to roam, and after a time she +moved restlessly about in a small circle on the plain, and sent out her +first inquiring call for Kazan. Up from the river came the pungent odor +of smoke, and instinctively she knew that it was this smoke, and the +nearness of man, that was keeping Kazan from her. But she went no nearer +than that first circle made by her padded feet. Blindness had taught her +to wait. Since the day of the battle on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had +destroyed her eyes, Kazan had never failed her. Three times she called +for him in the early night. Then she made herself a nest under a +_banskian_ shrub, and waited until dawn. + +Just how she knew when night blotted out the last glow of the sun, so +without seeing she knew when day came. Not until she felt the warmth of +the sun on her back did her anxiety overcome her caution. Slowly she +moved toward the river, sniffing the air and whining. There was no +longer the smell of smoke in the air, and she could not catch the scent +of man. She followed her own trail back to the sand-bar, and in the +fringe of thick bush overhanging the white shore of the stream she +stopped and listened. After a little she scrambled down and went +straight to the spot where she and Kazan were drinking when the shot +came. And there her nose struck the sand still wet and thick with +Kazan's blood. She knew it was the blood of her mate, for the scent of +him was all about her in the sand, mingled with the man-smell of Sandy +McTrigger. She sniffed the trail of his body to the edge of the stream, +where Sandy had dragged him to the canoe. She found the fallen tree to +which he had been tied. And then she came upon one of the two clubs that +Sandy had used to beat wounded Kazan into submissiveness. It was covered +with blood and hair, and all at once Gray Wolf lay back on her haunches +and turned her blind face to the sky, and there rose from her throat a +cry for Kazan that drifted for miles on the wings of the south wind. +Never had Gray Wolf given quite that cry before. It was not the "call" +that comes with the moonlit nights, and neither was it the hunt-cry, nor +the she-wolf's yearning for matehood. It carried with it the lament of +death. And after that one cry Gray Wolf slunk back to the fringe of bush +over the river, and lay with her face turned to the stream. + +A strange terror fell upon her. She had grown accustomed to darkness, +but never before had she been _alone_ in that darkness. Always there +had been the guardianship of Kazan's presence. She heard the clucking +sound of a spruce hen in the bush a few yards away, and now that sound +came to her as if from out of another world. A ground-mouse rustled +through the grass close to her forepaws, and she snapped at it, and +closed her teeth on a rock. The muscles of her shoulders twitched +tremulously and she shivered as if stricken by intense cold. She was +terrified by the darkness that shut out the world from her, and she +pawed at her closed eyes, as if she might open them to light. Early in +the afternoon she wandered back on the plain. It was different. It +frightened her, and soon she returned to the beach, and snuggled down +under the tree where Kazan had lain. She was not so frightened here. The +smell of Kazan was strong about her. For an hour she lay motionless, +with her head resting on the club clotted with his hair and blood. Night +found her still there. And when the moon and the stars came out she +crawled back into the pit in the white sand that Kazan's body had made +under the tree. + +With dawn she went down to the edge of the stream to drink. She could +not see that the day was almost as dark as night, and that the +gray-black sky was a chaos of slumbering storm. But she could smell the +presence of it in the thick air, and could _feel_ the forked flashes of +lightning that rolled up with the dense pall from the south and west. +The distant rumbling of thunder grew louder, and she huddled herself +again under the tree. For hours the storm crashed over her, and the rain +fell in a deluge. When it had finished she slunk out from her shelter +like a thing beaten. Vainly she sought for one last scent of Kazan. The +club was washed clean. Again the sand was white where Kazan's blood had +reddened it. Even under the tree there was no sign of him left. + +Until now only the terror of being alone in the pit of darkness that +enveloped her had oppressed Gray Wolf. With afternoon came hunger. It +was this hunger that drew her from the sand-bar, and she wandered back +into the plain. A dozen times she scented game, and each time it evaded +her. Even a ground-mouse that she cornered under a root, and dug out +with her paws, escaped her fangs. + +Thirty-six hours before this Kazan and Gray Wolf had left a half of +their last kill a mile of two farther back on the plain. The kill was +one of the big barren rabbits, and Gray Wolf turned in its direction. +She did not require sight to find it. In her was developed to its finest +point that sixth sense of the animal kingdom, the sense of orientation, +and as straight as a pigeon might have winged its flight she cut through +the bush to the spot where they had cached the rabbit. A white fox had +been there ahead of her, and she found only scattered bits of hair and +fur. What the fox had left the moose-birds and bush-jays had carried +away. Hungrily Gray Wolf turned back to the river. + +That night she slept again where Kazan had lain, and three times she +called for him without answer. A heavy dew fell, and it drenched the +last vestige of her mate's scent out of the sand. But still through the +day that followed, and the day that followed that, blind Gray Wolf clung +to the narrow rim of white sand. On the fourth day her hunger reached a +point where she gnawed the bark from willow bushes. It was on this day +that she made a discovery. She was drinking, when her sensitive nose +touched something in the water's edge that was smooth, and bore a faint +odor of flesh. It was one of the big northern river clams. She pawed it +ashore, sniffing at the hard shell. Then she crunched it between her +teeth. She had never tasted sweeter meat than that which she found +inside, and she began hunting for other clams. She found many of them, +and ate until she was no longer hungry. For three days more she remained +on the bar. + +And then, one night, the call came to her. It set her quivering with a +strange new excitement--something that may have been a new hope, and in +the moonlight she trotted nervously up and down the shining strip of +sand, facing now the north, and now the south, and then the east and the +west--her head flung up, listening, as if in the soft wind of the night +she was trying to locate the whispering lure of a wonderful voice. And +whatever it was that came to her came from out of the south and east. +Off there--across the barren, far beyond the outer edge of the northern +timber-line--was _home_. And off there, in her brute way, she reasoned +that she must find Kazan. The call did not come from their old windfall +home in the swamp. It came from beyond that, and in a flashing vision +there rose through her blindness a picture of the towering Sun Rock, of +the winding trail that led to it, and the cabin on the plain. It was +there that blindness had come to her. It was there that day had ended, +and eternal night had begun. And it was there that she had mothered her +first-born. Nature had registered these things so that they could never +be wiped out of her memory, and when the call came it was from the +sunlit world where she had last known light and life and had last seen +the moon and the stars in the blue night of the skies. + +And to that call she responded, leaving the river and its food behind +her--straight out into the face of darkness and starvation, no longer +fearing death or the emptiness of the world she could not see; for ahead +of her, two hundred miles away, she could see the Sun Rock, the winding +trail, the nest of her first-born between the two big rocks--_and +Kazan_! + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + +Sixty miles farther north Kazan lay at the end of his fine steel chain, +watching little Professor McGill mixing a pail of tallow and bran. A +dozen yards from him lay the big Dane, his huge jaws drooling in +anticipation of the unusual feast which McGill was preparing. He showed +signs of pleasure when McGill approached him with a quart of the +mixture, and he gulped it between his huge jaws. The little man with the +cold blue eyes and the gray-blond hair stroked his back without fear. +His attitude was different when he turned to Kazan. His movements were +filled with caution, and yet his eyes and his lips were smiling, and he +gave the wolf-dog no evidence of his fear, if it could be called fear. + +The little professor, who was up in the north country for the +Smithsonian Institution, had spent a third of his life among dogs. He +loved them, and understood them. He had written a number of magazine +articles on dog intellect that had attracted wide attention among +naturalists. It was largely because he loved dogs, and understood them +more than most men, that he had bought Kazan and the big Dane on the +night when Sandy McTrigger and his partner had tried to get them to +fight to the death in the Red Gold City saloon. The refusal of the two +splendid beasts to kill each other for the pleasure of the three hundred +men who had assembled to witness the fight delighted him. He had already +planned a paper on the incident. Sandy had told him the story of Kazan's +capture, and of his wild mate, Gray Wolf, and the professor had asked +him a thousand questions. But each day Kazan puzzled him more. No amount +of kindness on his part could bring a responsive gleam in Kazan's eyes. +Not once did Kazan signify a willingness to become friends. And yet he +did not snarl at McGill, or snap at his hands when they came within +reach. Quite frequently Sandy McTrigger came over to the little cabin +where McGill was staying, and three times Kazan leaped at the end of +his chain to get at him, and his white fangs gleamed as long as Sandy +was in sight. Alone with McGill he became quiet. Something told him that +McGill had come as a friend that night when he and the big Dane stood +shoulder to shoulder in the cage that had been built for a slaughter +pen. Away down in his brute heart he held McGill apart from other men. +He had no desire to harm him. He tolerated him, but showed none of the +growing affection of the huge Dane. It was this fact that puzzled +McGill. He had never before known a dog that he could not make love him. + +To-day he placed the tallow and bran before Kazan, and the smile in his +face gave way to a look of perplexity. Kazan's lips had drawn suddenly +back. A fierce snarl rolled deep in his throat. The hair along his spine +stood up. His muscles twitched. Instinctively the professor turned. +Sandy McTrigger had come up quietly behind him. His brutal face wore a +grin as he looked at Kazan. + +"It's a fool job--tryin' to make friends with _him_" he said. Then he +added, with a sudden interested gleam in his eyes, "When you startin'?" + +"With first frost," replied McGill. "It ought to come soon. I'm going to +join Sergeant Conroy and his party at Fond du Lac by the first of +October." + +"And you're going up to Fond du Lac--alone?" queried Sandy. "Why don't +you take a man?" + +The little professor laughed softly. + +"Why?" he asked. "I've been through the Athabasca waterways a dozen +times, and know the trail as well as I know Broadway. Besides, I like to +be alone. And the work isn't too hard, with the currents all flowing to +the north and east." + +Sandy was looking at the Dane, with his back to McGill. An exultant +gleam shot for an instant into his eyes. + +"You're taking the dogs?" + +"Yes." + +Sandy lighted his pipe, and spoke like one strangely curious. + +"Must cost a heap to take these trips o' yourn, don't it?" + +"My last cost about seven thousand dollars. This will cost five," said +McGill. + +"Gawd!" breathed Sandy. "An' you carry all that along with you! Ain't +you afraid--something might happen--?" + +The little professor was looking the other way now. The carelessness in +his face and manner changed. His blue eyes grew a shade darker. A hard +smile which Sandy did not see hovered about his lips for an instant. +Then he turned, laughing. + +"I'm a very light sleeper," he said. "A footstep at night rouses me. +Even a man's breathing awakes me, when I make up my mind that I must be +on my guard. And, besides"--he drew from his pocket a blue-steeled +Savage automatic--"I know how to use _this_." He pointed to a knot in +the wall of the cabin. "Observe," he said. Five times he fired at twenty +paces, and when Sandy went up to look at the knot he gave a gasp. There +was one jagged hole where the knot had been. + +"Pretty good," he grinned. "Most men couldn't do better'n that with a +rifle." + +When Sandy left, McGill followed him with a suspicious gleam in his +eyes, and a curious smile on his lips. Then he turned to Kazan. + +"Guess you've got him figgered out about right, old man," he laughed +softly. "I don't blame you very much for wanting to get him by the +throat. Perhaps--" + +He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and went into the cabin. Kazan +dropped his head between his forepaws, and lay still, with wide-open +eyes. It was late afternoon, early in September, and each night brought +now the first chill breaths of autumn. Kazan watched the last glow of +the sun as it faded out of the southern skies. Darkness always followed +swiftly after that, and with darkness came more fiercely his wild +longing for freedom. Night after night he had gnawed at his steel chain. +Night after night he had watched the stars, and the moon, and had +listened for Gray Wolf's call, while the big Dane lay sleeping. To-night +it was colder than usual, and the keen tang of the wind that came fresh +from the west stirred him strangely. It set his blood afire with what +the Indians call the Frost Hunger. Lethargic summer was gone and the +days and nights of hunting were at hand. He wanted to leap out into +freedom and run until he was exhausted, with Gray Wolf at his side. He +knew that Gray Wolf was off there--where the stars hung low in the clear +sky, and that she was waiting. He strained at the end of his chain, and +whined. All that night he was restless--more restless than he had been +at any time before. Once, in the far distance, he heard a cry that he +thought was the cry of Gray Wolf, and his answer roused McGill from deep +sleep. It was dawn, and the little professor dressed himself and came +out of the cabin. With satisfaction he noted the exhilarating snap in +the air. He wet his fingers and held them above his head, chuckling when +he found the wind had swung into the north. He went to Kazan, and talked +to him. Among other things he said, "This'll put the black flies to +sleep, Kazan. A day or two more of it and we'll start." + +Five days later McGill led first the Dane, and then Kazan, to a packed +canoe. Sandy McTrigger saw them off, and Kazan watched for a chance to +leap at him. Sandy kept his distance, and McGill watched the two with a +thought that set the blood running swiftly behind the mask of his +careless smile. They had slipped a mile down-stream when he leaned over +and laid a fearless hand on Kazan's head. Something in the touch of that +hand, and in the professor's voice, kept Kazan from a desire to snap at +him. He tolerated the friendship with expressionless eyes and a +motionless body. + +"I was beginning to fear I wouldn't have much sleep, old boy," chuckled +McGill ambiguously, "but I guess I can take a nap now and then with +_you_ along!" + +He made camp that night fifteen miles up the lake shore. The big Dane he +fastened to a sapling twenty yards from his small silk tent, but Kazan's +chain he made fast to the butt of a stunted birch that held down the +tent-flap. Before he went into the tent for the night McGill pulled out +his automatic and examined it with care. + +For three days the journey continued without a mishap along the shore of +Lake Athabasca. On the fourth night McGill pitched his tent in a clump +of _banskian_ pine a hundred yards back from the water. All that day the +wind had come steadily from behind them, and for at least a half of the +day the professor had been watching Kazan closely. From the west there +had now and then come a scent that stirred him uneasily. Since noon he +had sniffed that wind. Twice McGill had heard him growling deep in his +throat, and once, when the scent had come stronger than usual, he had +bared his fangs, and the bristles stood up along his spine. For an hour +after striking camp the little professor did not build a fire, but sat +looking up the shore of the lake through his hunting glass. It was dusk +when he returned to where he had put up his tent and chained the dogs. +For a few moments he stood unobserved, looking at the wolf-dog. Kazan +was still uneasy. He lay _facing_ the west. McGill made note of this, +for the big Dane lay behind Kazan--to the east. Under ordinary +conditions Kazan would have faced him. He was sure now that there was +something in the west wind. A little shiver ran up his back as he +thought of what it might be. + +Behind a rock he built a very small fire, and prepared supper. After +this he went into the tent, and when he came out he carried a blanket +under his arm. He chuckled as he stood for a moment over Kazan. + +"We're not going to sleep in there to-night, old hoy," he said. "I don't +like what you've found in the west wind. It may he a--_thunder-storm!_" +He laughed at his joke, and buried himself in a clump of stunted +_banskians_ thirty paces from the tent. Here he rolled himself in his +blanket, and went to sleep. + +It was a quiet starlit night, and hours afterward Kazan dropped his nose +between his forepaws and drowsed. It was the snap of a twig that roused +him. The sound did not awaken the sluggish Dane but instantly Kazan's +head was alert, his keen nostrils sniffing the air. What he had smelled +all day was heavy about him now. He lay still and quivering. Slowly, +from out of the _banskians_ behind the tent, there came a figure. It was +not the little professor. It approached cautiously, with lowered head +and hunched shoulders, and the starlight revealed the murderous face of +Sandy McTrigger. Kazan crouched low. He laid his head flat between his +forepaws. His long fangs gleamed. But he made no sound that betrayed his +concealment under a thick _banskian_ shrub. Step by step Sandy +approached, and at last he reached the flap of the tent. He did not +carry a club or a whip in his hand now. In the place of either of those +was the glitter of steel. At the door to the tent he paused, and peered +in, his back to Kazan. + +Silently, swiftly--the wolf now in every movement, Kazan came to his +feet. He forgot the chain that held him. Ten feet away stood the enemy +he hated above all others he had ever known. Every ounce of strength in +his splendid body gathered itself for the spring. And then he leaped. +This time the chain did not pull him back, almost neck-broken. Age and +the elements had weakened the leather collar he had worn since the days +of his slavery in the traces, and it gave way with a snap. Sandy turned, +and in a second leap Kazan's fangs sank into the flesh of his arm. With +a startled cry the man fell, and as they rolled over on the ground the +big Dane's deep voice rolled out in thunderous alarm as he tugged at his +leash. In the fall Kazan's hold was broken. In an instant he was on his +feet, ready for another attack. And then the change came. He was +_free_. The collar was gone from his neck. The forest, the stars, the +whispering wind were all about him. _Here_ were men, and off there +was--Gray Wolf! His ears dropped, and he turned swiftly, and slipped +like a shadow back into the glorious freedom of his world. + +A hundred yards away something stopped him for an instant. It was not +the big Dane's voice, but the sharp _crack--crack--crack_, of the little +professor's automatic. And above that sound there rose the voice of +Sandy McTrigger in a weird and terrible cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AN EMPTY WORLD + + +Mile after mile Kazan went on. For a time he was oppressed by the +shivering note of death that had come to him in Sandy McTrigger's cry, +and he slipped through the _banskians_ like a shadow, his ears +flattened, his tail trailing, his hindquarters betraying that curious +slinking quality of the wolf and dog stealing away from danger. Then he +came out upon a plain, and the stillness, the billion stars in the clear +vault of the sky, and the keen air that carried with it a breath of the +Arctic barrens made him alert and questioning. He faced the direction of +the wind. Somewhere off there, far to the south and west, was Gray Wolf. +For the first time in many weeks he sat back on his haunches and gave +the deep and vibrant call that echoed weirdly for miles about him. Back +in the _banskians_ the big Dane heard it, and whined. From over the +still body of Sandy McTrigger the little professor looked up with a +white tense face, and listened for a second cry. But instinct told Kazan +that to that first call there would be no answer, and now he struck out +swiftly, galloping mile after mile, as a dog follows the trail of its +master home. He did not turn hack to the lake, nor was his direction +toward Red Gold City. As straight as he might have followed a road +blazed by the hand of man he cut across the forty miles of plain and +swamp and forest and rocky ridge that lay between him and the McFarlane. +All that night he did not call again for Gray Wolf. With him reasoning +was a process brought about by habit--by precedent--and as Gray Wolf had +waited for him many times before he knew that she would be waiting for +him now near the sand-bar. + +By dawn he had reached the river, within three miles of the sand-bar. +Scarcely was the sun up when he stood on the white strip of sand where +he and Gray Wolf had come down to drink. Expectantly and confidently he +looked about him for Gray Wolf, whining softly, and wagging his tail. He +began to search for her scent, but rains had washed even her footprints +from the clean sand. All that day he searched for her along the river +and out on the plain. He went to where they had killed their last +rabbit. He sniffed at the bushes where the poison baits had hung. Again +and again he sat back on his haunches and sent out his mating cry to +her. And slowly, as he did these things, nature was working in him that +miracle of the wild which the Crees have named the "spirit call." As it +had worked in Gray Wolf, so now it stirred the blood of Kazan. With the +going of the sun, and the sweeping about him of shadowy night, he turned +more and more to the south and east. His whole world was made up of the +trails over which he had hunted. Beyond those places he did not know +that there was such a thing as existence. And in that world, small in +his understanding of things, was Gray Wolf. He could not miss her. That +world, in his comprehension of it, ran from the McFarlane in a narrow +trail through the forests and over the plains to the little valley from +which the beavers had driven them. If Gray Wolf was not here--she was +there, and tirelessly he resumed his quest of her. + +Not until the stars were fading out of the sky again, and gray day was +giving place to night, did exhaustion and hunger stop him. He killed a +rabbit, and for hours after he had feasted he lay close to his kill, and +slept. Then he went on. + +The fourth night he came to the little valley between the two ridges, +and under the stars, more brilliant now in the chill clearness of the +early autumn nights, he followed the creek down into their old swamp +home. It was broad day when he reached the edge of the great beaver pond +that now completely surrounded the windfall under which Gray-Wolf's +second-born had come into the world. Broken Tooth and the other beavers +had wrought a big change in what had once been his home and Gray Wolf's, +and for many minutes Kazan stood silent and motionless at the edge of +the pond, sniffing the air heavy with the unpleasant odor of the +usurpers. Until now his spirit had remained unbroken. Footsore, with +thinned sides and gaunt head, he circled slowly through the swamp. All +that day he searched. And his crest lay flat now, and there was a hunted +look in the droop of his shoulders and in the shifting look of his +eyes. Gray Wolf was gone. + +Slowly nature was impinging that fact upon him. She had passed out of +his world and out of his life, and he was filled with a loneliness and a +grief so great that the forest seemed strange, and the stillness of the +wild a thing that now oppressed and frightened him. Once more the dog in +him was mastering the wolf. With Gray Wolf he had possessed the world of +freedom. Without her, that world was so big and strange and empty that +it appalled him. Late in the afternoon he came upon a little pile of +crushed clamshells on the shore of the stream. He sniffed at +them--turned away--went back, and sniffed again. It was where Gray Wolf +had made a last feast in the swamp before continuing south. But the +scent she had left behind was not strong enough to tell Kazan, and for a +second time he turned away. That night he slunk under a log, and cried +himself to sleep. Deep in the night he grieved in his uneasy slumber, +like a child. And day after day, and night after night, Kazan remained a +slinking creature of the big swamp, mourning for the one creature that +had brought him out of chaos into light, who had filled his world for +him, and who, in going from him, had taken from this world even the +things that Gray Wolf had lost in her blindness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + +In the golden glow of the autumn sun there came up the stream overlooked +by the Sun Rock one day a man, a woman and a child in a canoe. +Civilization had done for lovely Joan what it had done for many another +wild flower transplanted from the depths of the wilderness. Her cheeks +were thin. Her blue eyes had lost their luster. She coughed, and when +she coughed the man looked at her with love and fear in his eyes. But +now, slowly, the man had begun to see the transformation, and on the day +their canoe pointed up the stream and into the wonderful valley that had +been their home before the call of the distant city came to them, he +noted the flush gathering once more in her cheeks, the fuller redness of +her lips, and the gathering glow of happiness and content in her eyes. +He laughed softly as he saw these things, and he blessed the forests. In +the canoe she had leaned back, with her head almost against his +shoulder, and he stopped paddling to draw her to him, and run his +fingers through the soft golden masses of her hair. + +"You are happy again, Joan," he laughed joyously. "The doctors were +right. You are a part of the forests." + +"Yes, I am happy," she whispered, and suddenly there came a little +thrill into her voice, and she pointed to a white finger of sand running +out into the stream. "Do you remember--years and years ago, it +seems--that Kazan left us here? _She_ was on the sand over there, +calling to him. Do you remember?" There was a little tremble about her +mouth, and she added, "I wonder--where they--have gone." + +The cabin was as they had left it. Only the crimson _bakneesh_ had grown +up about it, and shrubs and tall grass had sprung up near its walls. +Once more it took on life, and day by day the color came deeper into +Joan's cheeks, and her voice was filled with its old wild sweetness of +song. Joan's husband cleared the trails over his old trap-lines, and +Joan and the little Joan, who romped and talked now, transformed the +cabin into _home_. One night the man returned to the cabin late, and +when he came in there was a glow of excitement in Joan's blue eyes, and +a tremble in her voice when she greeted him. + +"Did you hear it?" she asked. "Did you hear--_the call_?" + +He nodded, stroking her soft hair. + +"I was a mile back in the creek swamp," he said. "I heard it!" + +Joan's hands clutched his arms. + +"It wasn't Kazan," she said. "I would recognize _his_ voice. But it +seemed to me it was like the other--the call that came that morning from +the sand-bar, his _mate_?" + +The man was thinking. Joan's fingers tightened. She was breathing a +little quickly. + +"Will you promise me this?" she asked, "Will you promise me that you +will never hunt or trap for wolves?" + +"I had thought of that," he replied. "I thought of it--after I heard the +call. Yes, I will promise." + +Joan's arms stole up about his neck. + +"We loved Kazan," she whispered. "And you might kill him--or _her_" + +Suddenly she stopped. Both listened. The door was a little ajar, and to +them there came again the wailing mate-call of the wolf. Joan ran to the +door. Her husband followed. Together they stood silent, and with tense +breath Joan pointed over the starlit plain. + +"Listen! Listen!" she commanded. "It's her cry, _and it came from the +Sun Rock_!" + +She ran out into the night, forgetting that the man was close behind her +now, forgetting that little Joan was alone in her bed. And to them, from +miles and miles across the plain, there came a wailing cry in answer--a +cry that seemed a part of the wind, and that thrilled Joan until her +breath broke in a strange sob. + +Farther out on the plain she went and then stopped, with the golden glow +of the autumn moon and the stars shimmering in her hair and eyes. It was +many minutes before the cry came again, and then it was so near that +Joan put her hands to her mouth, and her cry rang out over the plain as +in the days of old. + +"_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +At the top of the Sun Rock, Gray Wolf--gaunt and thinned by +starvation--heard the woman's cry, and the call that was in her throat +died away in a whine. And to the north a swiftly moving shadow stopped +for a moment, and stood like a thing of rock under the starlight. It was +Kazan. A strange fire leaped through his body. Every fiber of his brute +understanding was afire with the knowledge that here was _home_. It was +here, long ago, that he had lived, and loved, and fought--and all at +once the dreams that had grown faded and indistinct in his memory came +back to him as real living things. For, coming to him faintly over the +plain, _he heard Joan's voice!_ + +In the starlight Joan stood, tense and white, when from out of the pale +mists of the moon-glow he came to her, cringing on his belly, panting +and wind-run, and with a strange whining note in his throat. And as Joan +went to him, her arms reaching out, her lips sobbing his name over and +over again, the man stood and looked down upon them with the wonder of a +new and greater understanding in his face. He had no fear of the +wolf-dog now. And as Joan's arms hugged Kazan's great shaggy head up to +her he heard the whining gasping joy of the beast and the sobbing +whispering voice of the girl, and with tensely gripped hands he faced +the Sun Rock. + +"My Gawd," he breathed. "I believe--it's so--" + +As if in response to the thought in his mind, there came once more +across the plain Gray Wolf's mate-seeking cry of grief and of +loneliness. Swiftly as though struck by a lash Kazan was on his +feet--oblivious of Joan's touch, of her voice, of the presence of the +man. In another instant he was gone, and Joan flung herself against her +husband's breast, and almost fiercely took his face between her two +hands. + +"_Now_ do you believe?" she cried pantingly. "_Now_ do you believe in +the God of my world--the God I have lived with, the God that gives souls +to the wild things, the God that--that has brought--us, +all--together--once more--_home_!" + +His arms closed gently about her. + +"I believe, my Joan," he whispered. + +"And you understand--now--what it means, 'Thou shalt not kill'?" + +"Except that it brings us life--yes, I understand," he replied. + +Her warm soft hands stroked his face. Her blue eyes, filled with the +glory of the stars, looked up into his. + +"Kazan and _she_--you and I--and the baby! Are you sorry--that we came +back?" she asked. + +So close he drew her against his breast that she did not hear the words +he whispered in the soft warmth of her hair. And after that, for many +hours, they sat in the starlight in front of the cabin door. But they +did not hear again that lonely cry from the Sun Rock. Joan and her +husband understood. + +"He'll visit us again to-morrow," the man said at last. "Come, Joan, let +us go to bed." + +Together they entered the cabin. + +And that night, side by side, Kazan and Gray Wolf hunted again in the +moonlit plain. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + +***** This file should be named 10084.txt or 10084.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/0/8/10084/ + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/10084.zip b/10084.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c692b57 --- /dev/null +++ b/10084.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4b1bc1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10084 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10084) diff --git a/old/10084-8.txt b/old/10084-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b62d074 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6819 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Kazan + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: November 14, 2003 [EBook #10084] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + + + + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: He heard Joan's voice] + +KAZAN + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +Author of +The Danger Trail, Etc. + +Illustrated by +Gayle Hoskins and Frank Hoffman + + +1914 + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE MIRACLE + + II. INTO THE NORTH + + III. McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + IV. FREE FROM BONDS + + V. THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + VI. JOAN + + VII. OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + VIII. THE GREAT CHANGE + + IX. THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + X. THE DAYS OF FIRE + + XI. ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + XII. THE RED DEATH + + XIII. THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + XIV. THE RIGHT OF FANG + + XV. A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + XVI. THE CALL + + XVII. HIS SON + +XVIII. THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + XIX. THE USURPERS + + XX. A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + XXI. A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + XXII. SANDY'S METHOD + +XXIII. PROFESSOR McGILL + + XXIV. ALONE IN DARKNESS + + XXV. THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + XXVI. AN EMPTY WORLD + +XXVII. THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MIRACLE + + +Kazan lay mute and motionless, his gray nose between his forepaws, his +eyes half closed. A rock could have appeared scarcely less lifeless than +he; not a muscle twitched; not a hair moved; not an eyelid quivered. Yet +every drop of the wild blood in his splendid body was racing in a +ferment of excitement that Kazan had never before experienced; every +nerve and fiber of his wonderful muscles was tense as steel wire. +Quarter-strain wolf, three-quarters "husky," he had lived the four years +of his life in the wilderness. He had felt the pangs of starvation. He +knew what it meant to freeze. He had listened to the wailing winds of +the long Arctic night over the barrens. He had heard the thunder of the +torrent and the cataract, and had cowered under the mighty crash of the +storm. His throat and sides were scarred by battle, and his eyes were +red with the blister of the snows. He was called Kazan, the Wild Dog, +because he was a giant among his kind and as fearless, even, as the men +who drove him through the perils of a frozen world. + +He had never known fear--until now. He had never felt in him before the +desire to _run_--not even on that terrible day in the forest when he had +fought and killed the big gray lynx. He did not know what it was that +frightened him, but he knew that he was in another world, and that many +things in it startled and alarmed him. It was his first glimpse of +civilization. He wished that his master would come back into the strange +room where he had left him. It was a room filled with hideous things. +There were great human faces on the wall, but they did not move or +speak, but stared at him in a way he had never seen people look before. +He remembered having looked on a master who lay very quiet and very cold +in the snow, and he had sat back on his haunches and wailed forth the +death song; but these people on the walls looked alive, and yet seemed +dead. + +Suddenly Kazan lifted his ears a little. He heard steps, then low +voices. One of them was his master's voice. But the other--it sent a +little tremor through him! Once, so long ago that it must have been in +his puppyhood days, he seemed to have had a dream of a laugh that was +like the girl's laugh--a laugh that was all at once filled with a +wonderful happiness, the thrill of a wonderful love, and a sweetness +that made Kazan lift his head as they came in. He looked straight at +them, his red eyes gleaming. At once he knew that she must be dear to +his master, for his master's arm was about her. In the glow of the light +he saw that her hair was very bright, and that there was the color of +the crimson _bakneesh_ vine in her face and the blue of the _bakneesh_ +flower in her shining eyes. Suddenly she saw him, and with a little cry +darted toward him. + +"Stop!" shouted the man. "He's dangerous! Kazan--" + +She was on her knees beside him, all fluffy and sweet and beautiful, her +eyes shining wonderfully, her hands about to touch him. Should he cringe +back? Should he snap? Was she one of the things on the wall, and his +enemy? Should he leap at her white throat? He saw the man running +forward, pale as death. Then her hand fell upon his head and the touch +sent a thrill through him that quivered in every nerve of his body. With +both hands she turned up his head. Her face was very close, and he heard +her say, almost sobbingly: + +"And you are Kazan--dear old Kazan, my Kazan, my hero dog--who brought +him home to me when all the others had died! My Kazan--my hero!" + +And then, miracle of miracles, her face was crushed down against him, +and he felt her sweet warm touch. + +In those moments Kazan did not move. He scarcely breathed. It seemed a +long time before the girl lifted her face from him. And when she did, +there were tears in her blue eyes, and the man was standing above them, +his hands gripped tight, his jaws set. + +"I never knew him to let any one touch him--with their naked hand," he +said in a tense wondering voice. "Move back quietly, Isobel. Good +heaven--look at that!" + +Kazan whined softly, his bloodshot eyes on the girl's face. He wanted to +feel her hand again; he wanted to touch her face. Would they beat him +with a club, he wondered, if he _dared_! He meant no harm now. He would +kill for her. He cringed toward her, inch by inch, his eyes never +faltering. He heard what the man said--"Good heaven! Look at that!"--and +he shuddered. But no blow fell to drive him back. His cold muzzle +touched her filmy dress, and she looked at him, without moving, her wet +eyes blazing like stars. + +"See!" she whispered. "See!" + +Half an inch more--an inch, two inches, and he gave his big gray body a +hunch toward her. Now his muzzle traveled slowly upward--over her foot, +to her lap, and at last touched the warm little hand that lay there. His +eyes were still on her face: he saw a queer throbbing in her bare white +throat, and then a trembling of her lips as she looked up at the man +with a wonderful look. He, too, knelt down beside them, and put his arm +about the girl again, and patted the dog on his head. Kazan did not like +the man's touch. He mistrusted it, as nature had taught him to mistrust +the touch of all men's hands, but he permitted it because he saw that it +in some way pleased the girl. + +"Kazan, old boy, you wouldn't hurt her, would you?" said his master +softly. "We both love her, don't we, boy? Can't help it, can we? And +she's ours, Kazan, all _ours_! She belongs to you and to me, and we're +going to take care of her all our lives, and if we ever have to we'll +fight for her like hell--won't we? Eh, Kazan, old boy?" + +For a long time after they left him where he was lying on the rug, +Kazan's eyes did not leave the girl. He watched and listened--and all +the time there grew more and more in him the craving to creep up to them +and touch the girl's hand, or her dress, or her foot. After a time his +master said something, and with a little laugh the girl jumped up and +ran to a big, square, shining thing that stood crosswise in a corner, +and which had a row of white teeth longer than his own body. He had +wondered what those teeth were for. The girl's fingers touched them now, +and all the whispering of winds that he had ever heard, all the music of +the waterfalls and the rapids and the trilling of birds in spring-time, +could not equal the sounds they made. It was his first music. For a +moment it startled and frightened him, and then he felt the fright pass +away and a strange tingling in his body. He wanted to sit back on his +haunches and howl, as he had howled at the billion stars in the skies on +cold winter nights. But something kept him from doing that. It was the +girl. Slowly he began slinking toward her. He felt the eyes of the man +upon him, and stopped. Then a little more--inches at a time, with his +throat and jaw straight out along the floor! He was half-way to +her--half-way across the room--when the wonderful sounds grew very soft +and very low. + +"Go on!" he heard the man urge in a low quick voice. "Go on! Don't +stop!" + +The girl turned her head, saw Kazan cringing there on the floor, and +continued to play. The man was still looking, but his eyes could not +keep Kazan back now. He went nearer, still nearer, until at last his +outreaching muzzle touched her dress where it lay piled on the floor. +And then--he lay trembling, for she had begun to sing. He had heard a +Cree woman crooning in front of her tepee; he had heard the wild chant +of the caribou song--but he had never heard anything like this +wonderful sweetness that fell from the lips of the girl. He forgot his +master's presence now. Quietly, cringingly, so that she would not know, +he lifted his head. He saw her looking at him; there was something in +her wonderful eyes that gave him confidence, and he laid his head in her +lap. For the second time he felt the touch of a woman's hand, and he +closed his eyes with a long sighing breath. The music stopped. There +came a little fluttering sound above him, like a laugh and a sob in one. +He heard his master cough. + +"I've always loved the old rascal--but I never thought he'd do that," he +said; and his voice sounded queer to Kazan. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +INTO THE NORTH + + +Wonderful days followed for Kazan. He missed the forests and deep snows. +He missed the daily strife of keeping his team-mates in trace, the +yapping at his heels, the straight long pull over the open spaces and +the barrens. He missed the "Koosh--koosh--Hoo-yah!" of the driver, the +spiteful snap of his twenty-foot caribou-gut whip, and that yelping and +straining behind him that told him he had his followers in line. But +something had come to take the place of that which he missed. It was in +the room, in the air all about him, even when the girl or his master was +not near. Wherever she had been, he found the presence of that strange +thing that took away his loneliness. It was the woman scent, and +sometimes it made him whine softly when the girl herself was actually +with him. He was not lonely, nights, when he should have been out +howling at the stars. He was not lonely, because one night he prowled +about until he found a certain door, and when the girl opened that door +in the morning she found him curled up tight against it. She had reached +down and hugged him, the thick smother of her long hair falling all over +him in a delightful perfume; thereafter she placed a rug before the door +for him to sleep on. All through the long nights he knew that she was +just beyond the door, and he was content. Each day he thought less and +less of the wild places, and more of her. + +Then there came the beginning of the change. There was a strange hurry +and excitement around him, and the girl paid less attention to him. He +grew uneasy. He sniffed the change in the air, and he began to study his +master's face. Then there came the morning, very early, when the babiche +collar and the iron chain were fastened to him again. Not until he had +followed his master out through the door and into the street did he +begin to understand. They were sending him away! He sat suddenly back on +his haunches and refused to budge. + +"Come, Kazan," coaxed the man. "Come on, boy." + +He hung back and showed his white fangs. He expected the lash of a whip +or the blow of a club, but neither came. His master laughed and took him +back to the house. When they left it again, the girl was with them and +walked with her hand touching his head. It was she who persuaded him to +leap up through a big dark hole into the still darker interior of a car, +and it was she who lured him to the darkest corner of all, where his +master fastened his chain. Then they went out, laughing like two +children. For hours after that, Kazan lay still and tense, listening to +the queer rumble of wheels under him. Several times those wheels +stopped, and he heard voices outside. At last he was sure that he heard +a familiar voice, and he strained at his chain and whined. The closed +door slid back. A man with a lantern climbed in, followed by his master. +He paid no attention to them, but glared out through the opening into +the gloom of night. He almost broke loose when he leaped down upon the +white snow, but when he saw no one there, he stood rigid, sniffing the +air. Over him were the stars he had howled at all his life, and about +him were the forests, black and silent, shutting them in like a wall. +Vainly he sought for that one scent that was missing, and Thorpe heard +the low note of grief in his shaggy throat. He took the lantern and held +it above his head, at the same time loosening his hold on the leash. At +that signal there came a voice from out of the night. It came from +behind them, and Kazan whirled so suddenly that the loosely held chain +slipped from the man's hand. He saw the glow of other lanterns. And +then, once more, the voice-- + +"Kaa-aa-zan!" + +He was off like a bolt. Thorpe laughed to himself as he followed. + +"The old pirate!" he chuckled. + +When he came to the lantern-lighted space back of the caboose, Thorpe +found Kazan crouching down at a woman's feet. It was Thorpe's wife. She +smiled triumphantly at him as he came up out of the gloom. + +"You've won!" he laughed, not unhappily. "I'd have wagered my last +dollar he wouldn't do that for any voice on earth. You've won! Kazan, +you brute, I've lost you!" + +His face suddenly sobered as Isobel stooped to pick up the end of the +chain. + +"He's yours, Issy," he added quickly, "but you must let me care for him +until--we _know_. Give me the chain. I won't trust him even now. He's a +wolf. I've seen him take an Indian's hand off at a single snap. I've +seen him tear out another dog's jugular in one leap. He's an outlaw--a +bad dog--in spite of the fact that he hung to me like a hero and brought +me out alive. I can't trust him. Give me the chain--" + +He did not finish. With the snarl of a wild beast Kazan had leaped to +his feet. His lips drew up and bared his long fangs. His spine +stiffened, and with a sudden cry of warning, Thorpe dropped a hand to +the revolver at his belt. + +Kazan paid no attention to him. Another form had approached out of the +night, and stood now in the circle of illumination made by the lanterns. +It was McCready, who was to accompany Thorpe and his young wife back to +the Red River camp, where Thorpe was in charge of the building of the +new Trans-continental. The man was straight, powerfully built and clean +shaven. His jaw was so square that it was brutal, and there was a glow +in his eyes that was almost like the passion in Kazan's as he looked at +Isobel. + +Her red and white stocking-cap had slipped free of her head and was +hanging over her shoulder. The dull blaze of the lanterns shone in the +warm glow of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, suddenly +turned to him, were as blue as the bluest _bakneesh_ flower and glowed +like diamonds. McCready shifted his gaze, and instantly her hand fell on +Kazan's head. For the first time the dog did not seem to feel her touch. +He still snarled at McCready, the rumbling menace in his throat growing +deeper. Thorpe's wife tugged at the chain. + +"Down, Kazan--down!" she commanded. + +At the sound of her voice he relaxed. + +"Down!" she repeated, and her free hand fell on his head again. He slunk +to her feet. But his lips were still drawn back. Thorpe was watching +him. He wondered at the deadly venom that shot from the wolfish eyes, +and looked at McCready. The big guide had uncoiled his long dog-whip. A +strange look had come into his face. He was staring hard at Kazan. +Suddenly he leaned forward, with both hands on his knees, and for a +tense moment or two he seemed to forget that Isobel Thorpe's wonderful +blue eyes were looking at him. + +"Hoo-koosh, Pedro--_charge_!" + +That one word--_charge_--was taught only to the dogs in the service of +the Northwest Mounted Police. Kazan did not move. McCready straightened, +and quick as a shot sent the long lash of his whip curling out into the +night with a crack like a pistol report. + +"Charge, Pedro--_charge_!" + +The rumble in Kazan's throat deepened to a snarling growl, but not a +muscle of his body moved. McCready turned to Thorpe. + +"I could have sworn that I knew that dog," he said. "If it's Pedro, he's +_bad_!" + +Thorpe was taking the chain. Only the girl saw the look that came for an +instant into McCready's face. It made her shiver. A few minutes before, +when the train had first stopped at Les Pas, she had offered her hand +to this man and she had seen the same thing then. But even as she +shuddered she recalled the many things her husband had told her of the +forest people. She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough +manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and +suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of +fear and dislike. + +"He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make +friends with him?" + +She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain. +McCready came to her side as she bent over the dog. His back was to +Thorpe as he hunched down. Isobel's bowed head was within a foot of his +face. He could see the glow in her cheek and the pouting curve of her +mouth as she quieted the low rumbling in Kazan's throat. Thorpe stood +ready to pull back on the chain, but for a moment McCready was between +him and his wife, and he could not see McCready's face. The man's eyes +were not on Kazan. He was staring at the girl. + +"You're brave," he said. "I don't dare do that. He would take off my +hand!" + +He took the lantern from Thorpe and led the way to a narrow snow-path +branching off, from the track. Hidden back in the thick spruce was the +camp that Thorpe had left a fortnight before. There were two tents there +now in place of the one that he and his guide had used. A big fire was +burning in front of them. Close to the fire was a long sledge, and +fastened to trees just within the outer circle of firelight Kazan saw +the shadowy forms and gleaming eyes of his team-mates. He stood stiff +and motionless while Thorpe fastened him to a sledge. Once more he was +back in his forests--and in command. His mistress was laughing and +clapping her hands delightedly in the excitement of the strange and +wonderful life of which she had now become a part. Thorpe had thrown +back the flap of their tent, and she was entering ahead of him. She did +not look back. She spoke no word to him. He whined, and turned his red +eyes on McCready. + +In the tent Thorpe was saying: + +"I'm sorry old Jackpine wouldn't go back with us, Issy. He drove me +down, but for love or money I couldn't get him to return. He's a Mission +Indian, and I'd give a month's salary to have you see him handle the +dogs. I'm not sure about this man McCready. He's a queer chap, the +Company's agent here tells me, and knows the woods like a book. But dogs +don't like a stranger. Kazan isn't going to take to him worth a cent!" + +Kazan heard the girl's voice, and stood rigid and motionless listening +to it. He did not hear or see McCready when he came up stealthily behind +him. The man's voice came as suddenly as a shot at his heels. + +"_Pedro_!" + +In an instant Kazan cringed as if touched by a lash. + +"Got you that time--didn't I, you old devil!" whispered McCready, his +face strangely pale in the firelight. "Changed your name, eh? But I +_got_ you--didn't I?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + +For a long time after he had uttered those words McCready sat in silence +beside the fire. Only for a moment or two at a time did his eyes leave +Kazan. After a little, when he was sure that Thorpe and Isobel had +retired for the night, he went into his own tent and returned with a +flask of whisky. During the next half-hour he drank frequently. Then he +went over and sat on the end of the sledge, just beyond the reach of +Kazan's chain. + +"Got you, didn't I?" he repeated, the effect of the liquor beginning to +show in the glitter of his eyes. "Wonder who changed your name, Pedro. +And how the devil did _he_ come by you? Ho, ho, if you could only +talk--" + +They heard Thorpe's voice inside the tent. It was followed by a low +girlish peal of laughter, and McCready jerked himself erect. His face +blazed suddenly red, and he rose to his feet, dropping the flask in his +coat pocket. Walking around the fire, he tiptoed cautiously to the +shadow of a tree close to the tent and stood there for many minutes +listening. His eyes burned with a fiery madness when he returned to the +sledge and Kazan. It was midnight before he went into his own tent. + +In the warmth of the fire, Kazan's eyes slowly closed. He slumbered +uneasily, and his brain was filled with troubled pictures. At times he +was fighting, and his jaws snapped. At others he was straining at the +end of his chain, with McCready or his mistress just out of reach. He +felt the gentle touch of the girl's hand again and heard the wonderful +sweetness of her voice as she sang to him and his master, and his body +trembled and twitched with the thrills that had filled him that night. +And then the picture changed. He was running at the head of a splendid +team--six dogs of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police--and his master was +calling him Pedro! The scene shifted. They were in camp. His master was +young and smooth-faced and he helped from the sledge another man whose +hands were fastened in front of him by curious black rings. Again it was +later--and he was lying before a great fire. His master was sitting +opposite him, with his back to a tent, and as he looked, there came out +of the tent the man with the black rings--only now the rings were gone +and his hands were free, and in one of them he carried a heavy club. He +heard the terrible blow of the club as it fell on his master's head--and +the sound of it aroused him from his restless sleep. + +He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. +The fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that +precedes dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready. Again he was +standing close to the tent of his mistress, and he knew now that this +was the man who had worn the black iron rings, and that it was he who +had beaten him with whip and club for many long days after he had killed +his master. McCready heard the menace in his throat and came back +quickly to the fire. He began to whistle and draw the half-burned logs +together, and as the fire blazed up afresh he shouted to awaken Thorp +and Isobel. In a few minutes Thorpe appeared at the tent-flap and his +wife followed him out. Her loose hair rippled in billows of gold about +her shoulders and she sat down on the sledge, close to Kazan, and began +brushing it. McCready came up behind her and fumbled among the packages +on the sledge. As if by accident one of his hands buried itself for an +instant in the rich tresses that flowed down her back. She did not at +first feel the caressing touch of his fingers, and Thorpe's back was +toward them. + +Only Kazan saw the stealthy movement of the hand, the fondling clutch of +the fingers in her hair, and the mad passion burning in the eyes of the +man. Quicker than a lynx, the dog had leaped the length of his chain +across the sledge. McCready sprang back just in time, and as Kazan +reached the end of his chain he was jerked back so that his body struck +sidewise against the girl. Thorpe had turned in time to see the end of +the leap. He believed that Kazan had sprung at Isobel, and in his horror +no word or cry escaped his lips as he dragged her from where she had +half fallen over the sledge. He saw that she was not hurt, and he +reached for his revolver. It was in his holster in the tent. At his feet +was McCready's whip, and in the passion of the moment he seized it and +sprang upon Kazan. The dog crouched in the snow. He made no move to +escape or to attack. Only once in his life could he remember having +received a beating like that which Thorpe inflicted upon him now. But +not a whimper or a growl escaped him. + +[Illustration: "Not another blow!"] + +And then, suddenly, his mistress ran forward and caught the whip poised +above Thorpe's head. + +"Not another blow!" she cried, and something in her voice held him from +striking. McCready did not hear what she said then, but a strange look +came into Thorpe's eyes, and without a word he followed his wife into +their tent. + +"Kazan did not leap at me," she whispered, and she was trembling with a +sudden excitement. Her face was deathly white. "That man was behind me," +she went on, clutching her husband by the arm. "I felt him touch me--and +then Kazan sprang. He wouldn't bite _me_. It's the _man_! There's +something--wrong--" + +She was almost sobbing, and Thorpe drew her close in his arms. + +"I hadn't thought before--but it's strange," he said. "Didn't McCready +say something about knowing the dog? It's possible. Perhaps he's had +Kazan before and abused him in a way that the dog has not forgotten. +To-morrow I'll find out. But until I know--will you promise to keep away +from Kazan?" + +Isobel gave the promise. When they came out from the tent Kazan lifted +his great head. The stinging lash had closed one of his eyes and his +mouth was dripping blood. Isobel gave a low sob, but did not go near +him. Half blinded, he knew that his mistress had stopped his punishment, +and he whined softly, and wagged his thick tail in the snow. + +Never had he felt so miserable as through the long hard hours of the day +that followed, when he broke the trail for his team-mates into the +North. One of his eyes was closed and filled with stinging fire, and his +body was sore from the blows of the caribou lash. But it was not +physical pain that gave the sullen droop to his head and robbed his body +of that keen quick alertness of the lead-dog--the commander of his +mates. It was his spirit. For the first time in his life, it was broken. +McCready had beaten him--long ago; his master had beaten him; and +during all this day their voices were fierce and vengeful in his ears. +But it was his mistress who hurt him most. She held aloof from him, +always beyond they reach of his leash; and when they stopped to rest, +and again in camp, she looked at him with strange and wondering eyes, +and did not speak. She, too, was ready to beat him. He believed that, +and so slunk away from her and crouched on his belly in the snow. With +him, a broken spirit meant a broken heart, and that night he lurked in +one of the deepest shadows about the camp-fire and grieved alone. None +knew that it was grief--unless it was the girl. She did not move toward +him. She did not speak to him. But she watched him closely--and studied +him hardest when he was looking at McCready. + +Later, after Thorpe and his wife had gone into their tent, it began to +snow, and the effect of the snow upon McCready puzzled Kazan. The man +was restless, and he drank frequently from the flask that he had used +the night before. In the firelight his face grew redder and redder, and +Kazan could see the strange gleam of his teeth as he gazed at the tent +in which his mistress was sleeping. Again and again he went close to +that tent, and listened. Twice he heard movement. The last time, it was +the sound of Thorpe's deep breathing. McCready hurried back to the fire +and turned his face straight up to the sky. The snow was falling so +thickly that when he lowered his face he blinked and wiped his eyes. +Then he went out into the gloom and bent low over the trail they had +made a few hours before. It was almost obliterated by the falling snow. +Another hour and there would be no trail--nothing the next day to tell +whoever might pass that they had come this way. By morning it would +cover everything, even the fire, if he allowed it to die down. McCready +drank again, out in the darkness. Low words of an insane joy burst from +his lips. His head was hot with a drunken fire. His heart beat madly, +but scarcely more furiously than did Kazan's when the dog saw that +McCready was returning _with a club_! The club he placed on end against +a tree. Then he took a lantern from the sledge and lighted it. He +approached Thorpe's tent-flap, the lantern in his hand. + +"Ho, Thorpe--Thorpe!" he called. + +There was no answer. He could hear Thorpe breathing. He drew the flap +aside a little, and raised his voice. + +"Thorpe!" + +Still there was no movement inside, and he untied the flap strings and +thrust in his lantern. The light flashed on Isobel's golden head, and +McCready stared at it, his eyes burning like red coals, until he saw +that Thorpe was awakening. Quickly he dropped the flap and rustled it +from the outside. + +"Ho, Thorpe!--Thorpe!" he called again. + +This time Thorpe replied. + +"Hello, McCready--is that you?" + +McCready drew the flap back a little, and spoke in a low voice. + +"Yes. Can you come out a minute? Something's happening out in the woods. +Don't wake up your wife!" + +He drew back and waited. A minute later Thorpe came quietly out of the +tent. McCready pointed into the thick spruce. + +"I'll swear there's some one nosing around the camp," he said. "I'm +certain that I saw a man out there a few minutes ago, when I went for a +log. It's a good night for stealing dogs. Here--you take the lantern! If +I wasn't clean fooled, we'll find a trail in the snow." + +He gave Thorpe the lantern and picked up the heavy club. A growl rose in +Kazan's throat, but he choked it back. He wanted to snarl forth his +warning, to leap at the end of his leash, but he knew that if he did +that, they would return and beat him. So he lay still, trembling and +shivering, and whining softly. He watched them until they +disappeared--and then waited--listened. At last he heard the crunch of +snow. He was not surprised to see McCready come back alone. He had +expected him to return alone. For he knew what a club meant! + +McCready's face was terrible now. It was like a beast's. He was hatless. +Kazan slunk deeper in his shadow at the low horrible laugh that fell +from his lips--for the man still held the club. In a moment he dropped +that, and approached the tent. He drew back the flap and peered in. +Thorpe's wife was sleeping, and as quietly as a cat he entered and hung +the lantern on a nail in the tent-pole. His movement did not awaken her, +and for a few moments he stood there, staring--staring. + +Outside, crouching in the deep shadow, Kazan tried to fathom the meaning +of these strange things that were happening. Why had his master and +McCready gone out into the forest? Why had not his master returned? It +was his master, and not McCready, who belonged in that tent. Then why +was McCready there? He watched McCready as he entered, and suddenly the +dog was on his feet, his back tense and bristling, his limbs rigid. He +saw McCready's huge shadow on the canvas, and a moment later there came +a strange piercing cry. In the wild terror of that cry he recognized +_her_ voice--and he leaped toward the tent. The leash stopped him, +choking the snarl in his throat. He saw the shadows struggling now, and +there came cry after cry. She was calling to his master, and with his +master's name she was calling _him_! + +"_Kazan_--_Kazan_--" + +He leaped again, and was thrown upon his back. A second and a third +time he sprang the length of the leash into the night, and the babiche +cord about his neck cut into his flesh like a knife. He stopped for an +instant, gasping for breath. The shadows were still fighting. Now they +were upright! Now they were crumpling down! With a fierce snarl he flung +his whole weight once more at the end of the chain. There was a snap, as +the thong about his neck gave way. + +In half a dozen bounds Kazan made the tent and rushed under the flap. +With a snarl he was at McCready's throat. The first snap of his powerful +jaws was death, but he did not know that. He knew only that his mistress +was there, and that he was fighting for her. There came one choking +gasping cry that ended with a terrible sob; it was McCready. The man +sank from his knees upon his back, and Kazan thrust his fangs deeper +into his enemy's throat; he felt the warm blood. + +The dog's mistress was calling to him now. She was pulling at his shaggy +neck. But he would not loose his hold--not for a long time. When he did, +his mistress looked down once upon the man and covered her face with +her hands. Then she sank down upon the blankets. She was very still. Her +face and hands were cold, and Kazan muzzled them tenderly. Her eyes were +closed. He snuggled up close against her, with his ready jaws turned +toward the dead man. Why was she so still, he wondered? + +A long time passed, and then she moved. Her eyes opened. Her hand +touched him. + +Then he heard a step outside. + +It was his master, and with that old thrill of fear--fear of the +club--he went swiftly to the door. Yes, there was his master in the +firelight--and in his hand he held the club. He was coming slowly, +almost falling at each step, and his face was red with blood. But he had +_the club_! He would beat him again--beat him terribly for hurting +McCready; so Kazan slipped quietly under the tent-flap and stole off +into the shadows. From out the gloom of the thick spruce he looked back, +and a low whine of love and grief rose and died softly in his throat. +They would beat him always now--after _that_. Even _she_ would beat him. +They would hunt him down, and beat him when they found him. + +From out of the glow of the fire he turned his wolfish head to the +depths of the forest. There were no clubs or stinging lashes out in that +gloom. They would never find him there. + +For another moment he wavered. And then, as silently as one of the wild +creatures whose blood was partly his, he stole away into the blackness +of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FREE FROM BONDS + + +There was a low moaning of the wind in the spruce-tops as Kazan slunk +off into the blackness and mystery of the forest. For hours he lay near +the camp, his red and blistered eyes gazing steadily at the tent wherein +the terrible thing had happened a little while before. + +He knew now what death was. He could tell it farther than man. He could +smell it in the air. And he knew that there was death all about him, and +that he was the cause of it. He lay on his belly in the deep snow and +shivered, and the three-quarters of him that was dog whined in a +grief-stricken way, while the quarter that was wolf still revealed +itself menacingly in his fangs, and in the vengeful glare of his eyes. + +Three times the man--his master--came out of the tent, and shouted +loudly, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" + +Three times the woman came with him. In the firelight Kazan could see +her shining hair streaming about her, as he had seen it in the tent, +when he had leaped up and killed the other man. In her blue eyes there +was the same wild terror, and her face was white as the snow. And the +second and third time, she too called, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!"--and all +that part of him that was dog, and not wolf, trembled joyously at the +sound of her voice, and he almost crept in to take his beating. But fear +of the club was the greater, and he held back, hour after hour, until +now it was silent again in the tent, and he could no longer see their +shadows, and the fire was dying down. + +Cautiously he crept out from the thick gloom, working his way on his +belly toward the packed sledge, and what remained of the burned logs. +Beyond that sledge, hidden in the darkness of the trees, was the body of +the man he had killed, covered with a blanket. Thorpe, his master, had +dragged it there. + +He lay down, with his nose to the warm coals and his eyes leveled +between his forepaws, straight at the closed tent-flap. He meant to +keep awake, to watch, to be ready to slink off into the forest at the +first movement there. But a warmth was rising from out of the gray ash +of the fire-bed, and his eyes closed. Twice--three times--he fought +himself back into watchfulness; but the last time his eyes came only +half open, and closed heavily again. + +And now, in his sleep, he whined softly, and the splendid muscles of his +legs and shoulders twitched, and sudden shuddering ripples ran along his +tawny spine. Thorpe, who was in the tent, if he had seen him, would have +known that he was dreaming. And Thorpe's wife, whose golden head lay +close against his breast, and who shuddered and trembled now and then +even as Kazan was doing, would have known what he was dreaming about. + +In his sleep he was leaping again at the end of his chain. His jaws +snapped like castanets of steel,--and the sound awakened him, and he +sprang to his feet, his spine as stiff as a brush, and his snarling +fangs bared like ivory knives. He had awakened just in time. There was +movement in the tent. His master was awake, and if he did not escape-- + +He sped swiftly into the thick spruce, and paused, flat and hidden, with +only his head showing from behind a tree. He knew that his master would +not spare him. Three times Thorpe had beaten him for snapping at +McCready. The last time he would have shot him if the girl had not saved +him. And now he had torn McCready's throat. He had taken the life from +him, and his master would not spare him. Even the woman could not save +him. + +Kazan was sorry that his master had returned, dazed and bleeding, after +he had torn McCready's jugular. Then he would have had her always. She +would have loved him. She did love him. And he would have followed her, +and fought for her always, and died for her when the time came. But +Thorpe had come in from the forest again, and Kazan had slunk away +quickly--for Thorpe meant to him what all men meant to him now: the +club, the whip and the strange things that spat fire and death. And +now-- + +Thorpe had come out from the tent. It was approaching dawn, and in his +hand he held a rifle. A moment later the girl came out, and her hand +caught the man's arm. They looked toward the thing covered by the +blanket. Then she spoke to Thorpe and he suddenly straightened and +threw back his head. + +"H-o-o-o-o--Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" he called. + +A shiver ran through Kazan. The man was trying to inveigle him back. He +had in his hand the thing that killed. + +"Kazan--Kazan--Ka-a-a-a-zan!" he shouted again. + +Kazan sneaked cautiously back from the tree. He knew that distance meant +nothing to the cold thing of death that Thorpe held in his hand. He +turned his head once, and whined softly, and for an instant a great +longing filled his reddened eyes as he saw the last of the girl. + +He knew, now, that he was leaving her forever, and there was an ache in +his heart that had never been there before, a pain that was not of the +club or whip, of cold or hunger, but which was greater than them all, +and which filled him with a desire to throw back his head and cry out +his loneliness to the gray emptiness of the sky. + +Back in the camp the girl's voice quivered. + +"He is gone." + +The man's strong voice choked a little. + +"Yes, he is gone. _He knew_--and I didn't. I'd give--a year of my +life--if I hadn't whipped him yesterday and last night. He won't come +back." + +Isobel Thorpe's hand tightened on his arm. + +"He will!" she cried. "He won't leave me. He loved me, if he was savage +and terrible. And he knows that I love him. He'll come back--" + +"Listen!" + +From deep in the forest there came a long wailing howl, filled with a +plaintive sadness. It was Kazan's farewell to the woman. + +After that cry Kazan sat for a long time on his haunches, sniffing the +new freedom of the air, and watching the deep black pits in the forest +about him, as they faded away before dawn. 'Now and then, since the day +the traders had first bought him and put him into sledge-traces away +over on the Mackenzie, he had often thought of this freedom longingly, +the wolf blood in him urging him to take it. But he had never quite +dared. It thrilled him now. There were no clubs here, no whips, none of +the man-beasts whom he had first learned to distrust, and then to hate. +It was his misfortune--that quarter-strain of wolf; and the clubs, +instead of subduing him, had added to the savagery that was born in him. +Men had been his worst enemies. They had beaten him time and again until +he was almost dead. They called him "bad," and stepped wide of him, and +never missed the chance to snap a whip over his back. His body was +covered with scars they had given him. + +He had never felt kindness, or love, until the first night the woman had +put her warm little hand on his head, and had snuggled her face close +down to his, while Thorpe--her husband--had cried out in horror. He had +almost buried his fangs in her white flesh, but in an instant her gentle +touch, and her sweet voice, had sent through him that wonderful thrill +that was his first knowledge of love. And now it was a man who was +driving him from her, away from the hand that had never held a club or a +whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper into the forest. + +He came to the edge of a swamp as day broke. For a time he had been +filled with a strange uneasiness, and light did not quite dispel it. At +last he was free of men. He could detect nothing that reminded him of +their hated presence in the air. But neither could he smell the presence +of other dogs, of the sledge, the fire, of companionship and food, and +so far back as he could remember they had always been a part of his +life. + +Here it was very quiet. The swamp lay in a hollow between two +ridge-mountains, and the spruce and cedar grew low and thick--so thick +that there was almost no snow under them, and day was like twilight. Two +things he began to miss more than all others--food and company. Both the +wolf and the dog that was in him demanded the first, and that part of +him that was dog longed for the latter. To both desires the wolf blood +that was strong in him rose responsively. It told him that somewhere in +this silent world between the two ridges there was companionship, and +that all he had to do to find it was to sit back on his haunches, and +cry out his loneliness. More than once something trembled in his deep +chest, rose in his throat, and ended there in a whine. It was the wolf +howl, not yet quite born. + +Food came more easily than voice. Toward midday he cornered a big white +rabbit under a log, and killed it. The warm flesh and blood was better +than frozen fish, or tallow and bran, and the feast he had gave him +confidence. That afternoon he chased many rabbits, and killed two more. +Until now, he had never known the delight of pursuing and killing at +will, even though he did not eat all he killed. + +But there was no fight in the rabbits. They died too easily. They were +very sweet and tender to eat, when he was hungry, but the first thrill +of killing them passed away after a time. He wanted something bigger. He +no longer slunk along as if he were afraid, or as if he wanted to remain +hidden. He held his head up. His back bristled. His tail swung free and +bushy, like a wolf's. Every hair in his body quivered with the electric +energy of life and action. He traveled north and west. It was the call +of early days--the days away up on the Mackenzie. The Mackenzie was a +thousand miles away. + +He came upon many trails in the snow that day, and sniffed the scents +left by the hoofs of moose and caribou, and the fur-padded feet of a +lynx. He followed a fox, and the trail led him to a place shut in by +tall spruce, where the snow was beaten down and reddened with blood. +There was an owl's head, feathers, wings and entrails lying here, and he +knew that there were other hunters abroad besides himself. + +Toward evening he came upon tracks in the snow that were very much like +his own. They were quite fresh, and there was a warm scent about them +that made him whine, and filled him again with that desire to fall back +upon his haunches and send forth the wolf-cry. This desire grew stronger +in him as the shadows of night deepened in the forest. He had traveled +all day, but he was not tired. There was something about night, now that +there were no men near, that exhilarated him strangely. The wolf blood +in him ran swifter and swifter. To-night it was clear. The sky was +filled with stars. The moon rose. And at last he settled back in the +snow and turned his head straight up to the spruce-tops, and the wolf +came out of him in a long mournful cry which quivered through the still +night for miles. + +For a long time he sat and listened after that howl. He had found +voice--a voice with a strange new note in it, and it gave him still +greater confidence. He had expected an answer, but none came. He had +traveled in the face of the wind, and as he howled, a bull moose crashed +through the scrub timber ahead of him, his horns rattling against the +trees like the tattoo of a clear birch club as he put distance between +himself and that cry. + +Twice Kazan howled before he went on, and he found joy in the practise +of that new note. He came then to the foot of a rough ridge, and turned +up out of the swamp to the top of it. The stars and the moon were nearer +to him there, and on the other side of the ridge he looked down upon a +great sweeping plain, with a frozen lake glistening in the moonlight, +and a white river leading from it off into timber that was neither so +thick nor so black as that in the swamp. + +And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped. From +far off in the plain there came a cry. It was _his_ cry--the wolf-cry. +His jaws snapped. His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his +throat. He wanted to reply, but some strange instinct urged him not to. +That instinct of the wild was already becoming master of him. In the +air, in the whispering of the spruce-tops, in the moon and the stars +themselves, there breathed a spirit which told him that what he had +heard was the wolf-cry, but that it was not the wolf _call_. + +The other came an hour later, clear and distinct, that same wailing howl +at the beginning--but ending in a staccato of quick sharp yelps that +stirred his blood at once into a fiery excitement that it had never +known before. The same instinct told him that this was the call--the +hunt-cry. It urged him to come quickly. A few moments later it came +again, and this time there was a reply from close down along the foot of +the ridge, and another from so far away that Kazan could scarcely hear +it. The hunt-pack was gathering for the night chase; but Kazan sat quiet +and trembling. + +He was not afraid, but he was not ready to go. The ridge seemed to split +the world for him. Down there it was new, and strange, and without men. +From the other side something seemed pulling him back, and suddenly he +turned his head and gazed back through the moonlit space behind him, and +whined. It was the dog-whine now. The woman was back there. He could +hear her voice. He could feel the touch of her soft hand. He could see +the laughter in her face and eyes, the laughter that had made him warm +and happy. She was calling to him through the forests, and he was torn +between desire to answer that call, and desire to go down into the +plain. For he could also see many men waiting for him with clubs, and he +could hear the cracking of whips, and feel the sting of their lashes. + +For a long time he remained on the top of the ridge that divided his +world. And then, at last, he turned and went down into the plain. + +All that night he kept close to the hunt-pack, but never quite +approached it. This was fortunate for him. He still bore the scent of +traces, and of man. The pack would have torn him into pieces. The first +instinct of the wild is that of self-preservation. It may have been +this, a whisper back through the years of savage forebears, that made +Kazan roll in the snow now and then where the feet of the pack had trod +the thickest. + +That night the pack killed a caribou on the edge of the lake, and +feasted until nearly dawn. Kazan hung in the face of the wind. The smell +of blood and of warm flesh tickled his nostrils, and his sharp ears +could catch the cracking of bones. But the instinct was stronger than +the temptation. + +Not until broad day, when the pack had scattered far and wide over the +plain, did he go boldly to the scene of the kill. He found nothing but +an area of blood-reddened snow, covered with bones, entrails and torn +bits of tough hide. But it was enough, and he rolled in it, and buried +his nose in what was left, and remained all that day close to it, +saturating himself with the scent of it. + +That night, when the moon and the stars came out again, he sat back with +fear and hesitation no longer in him, and announced himself to his new +comrades of the great plain. + +The pack hunted again that night, or else it was a new pack that started +miles to the south, and came up with a doe caribou to the big frozen +lake. The night was almost as clear as day, and from the edge of the +forest Kazan first saw the caribou run out on the lake a third of a mile +away. The pack was about a dozen strong, and had already split into the +fatal horseshoe formation, the two leaders running almost abreast of the +kill, and slowly closing in. + +With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out into the moonlight. He was directly +in the path of the fleeing doe, and bore down upon her with lightning +speed. Two hundred yards away the doe saw him, and swerved to the right, +and the leader on that side met her with open jaws. Kazan was in with +the second leader, and leaped at the doe's soft throat. In a snarling +mass the pack closed in from behind, and the doe went down, with Kazan +half under her body, his fangs sunk deep in her jugular. She lay heavily +on him, but he did not lose his hold. It was his first big kill. His +blood ran like fire. He snarled between his clamped teeth. + +Not until the last quiver had left the body over him did he pull himself +out from under her chest and forelegs. He had killed a rabbit that day +and was not hungry. So he sat back in the snow and waited, while the +ravenous pack tore at the dead doe. After a little he came nearer, nosed +in between two of them, and was nipped for his intrusion. + +As Kazan drew back, still hesitating to mix with his wild brothers, a +big gray form leaped out of the pack and drove straight for his throat. +He had just time to throw his shoulder to the attack, and for a moment +the two rolled over and over in the snow. They were up before the +excitement of sudden battle had drawn the pack from the feast. Slowly +they circled about each other, their white fangs bare, their yellowish +backs bristling like brushes. The fatal ring of wolves drew about the +fighters. + +It was not new to Kazan. A dozen times he had sat in rings like this, +waiting for the final moment. More than once he had fought for his life +within the circle. It was the sledge-dog way of fighting. Unless man +interrupted with a club or a whip it always ended in death. Only one +fighter could come out alive. Sometimes both died. And there was no man +here--only that fatal cordon of waiting white-fanged demons, ready to +leap upon and tear to pieces the first of the fighters who was thrown +upon his side or back. Kazan was a stranger, but he did not fear those +that hemmed him in. The one great law of the pack would compel them to +be fair. + +He kept his eyes only on the big gray leader who had challenged him. +Shoulder to shoulder they continued to circle. Where a few moments +before there had been the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh +there was now silence. Soft-footed and soft-throated mongrel dogs from +the South would have snarled and growled, but Kazan and the wolf were +still, their ears laid forward instead of back, their tails free and +bushy. + +Suddenly the wolf struck in with the swiftness of lightning, and his +jaws came together with the sharpness of steel striking steel. They +missed by an inch. In that same instant Kazan darted in to the side, and +like knives his teeth gashed the wolf's flank. + +They circled again, their eyes growing redder, their lips drawn back +until they seemed to have disappeared. And then Kazan leaped for that +death-grip at the throat--and missed. It was only by an inch again, and +the wolf came back, as he had done, and laid open Kazan's flank so that +the blood ran down his leg and reddened the snow. The burn of that +flank-wound told Kazan that his enemy was old in the game of fighting. +He crouched low, his head straight out, and his throat close to the +snow. It was a trick Kazan had learned in puppyhood--to shield his +throat, and wait. + +Twice the wolf circled about him, and Kazan pivoted slowly, his eyes +half closed. A second time the wolf leaped, and Kazan threw up his +terrible jaws, sure of that fatal grip just in front of the forelegs. +His teeth snapped on empty air. With the nimbleness of a cat the wolf +had gone completely over his back. + +The trick had failed, and with a rumble of the dog-snarl in his throat, +Kazan reached the wolf in a single bound. They met breast to breast. +Their fangs clashed and with the whole weight of his body, Kazan flung +himself against the wolf's shoulders, cleared his jaws, and struck again +for the throat hold. It was another miss--by a hair's breadth--and +before he could recover, the wolf's teeth were buried in the back of +his neck. + +For the first time in his life Kazan felt the terror and the pain of the +death-grip, and with a mighty effort he flung his head a little forward +and snapped blindly. His powerful jaws closed on the wolf's foreleg, +close to the body. There was a cracking of bone and a crunching of +flesh, and the circle of waiting wolves grew tense and alert. One or the +other of the fighters was sure to go down before the holds were broken, +and they but awaited that fatal fall as a signal to leap in to the +death. + +Only the thickness of hair and hide on the back of Kazan's neck, and the +toughness of his muscles, saved him from that terrible fate of the +vanquished. The wolf's teeth sank deep, but not deep enough to reach the +vital spot, and suddenly Kazan put every ounce of strength in his limbs +to the effort, and flung himself up bodily from under his antagonist. +The grip on his neck relaxed, and with another rearing leap he tore +himself free. + +As swift as a whip-lash he whirled on the broken-legged leader of the +pack and with the full rush and weight of his shoulders struck him +fairly in the side. More deadly than the throat-grip had Kazan sometimes +found the lunge when delivered at the right moment. It was deadly now. +The big gray wolf lost his feet, rolled upon his back for an instant, +and the pack rushed in, eager to rend the last of life from the leader +whose power had ceased to exist. + +From out of that gray, snarling, bloody-lipped mass, Kazan drew back, +panting and bleeding. He was weak. There was a curious sickness in his +head. He wanted to lie down in the snow. But the old and infallible +instinct warned him not to betray that weakness. From out of the pack a +slim, lithe, gray she-wolf came up to him, and lay down in the snow +before him, and then rose swiftly and sniffed at his wounds. + +She was young and strong and beautiful, but Kazan did not look at her. +Where the fight had been he was looking, at what little remained of the +old leader. The pack had returned to the feast. He heard again the +cracking of bones and the rending of flesh, and something told him that +hereafter all the wilderness would hear and recognize his voice, and +that when he sat back on his haunches and called to the moon and the +stars, those swift-footed hunters of the big plain would respond to it. +He circled twice about the caribou and the pack, and then trotted off to +the edge of the black spruce forest. + +When he reached the shadows he looked back. Gray Wolf was following him. +She was only a few yards behind. And now she came up to him, a little +timidly, and she, too, looked back to the dark blotch of life out on the +lake. And as she stood there close beside him, Kazan sniffed at +something in the air that was not the scent of blood, nor the perfume of +the balsam and spruce. It was a thing that seemed to come to him from +the clear stars, the cloudless moon, the strange and beautiful quiet of +the night itself. And its presence seemed to be a part of Gray Wolf. + +He looked at her, and he found Gray Wolf's eyes alert and questioning. +She was young--so young that she seemed scarcely to have passed out of +puppyhood. Her body was strong and slim and beautifully shaped. In the +moonlight the hair under her throat and along her back shone sleek and +soft. She whined at the red staring light in Kazan's eyes, and it was +not a puppy's whimper. Kazan moved toward her, and stood with his head +over her back, facing the pack. He felt her trembling against his chest. +He looked at the moon and the stars again, the mystery of Gray Wolf and +of the night throbbing in his blood. + +Not much of his life had been spent at the posts. Most of it had been on +the trail--in the traces--and the spirit of the mating season had only +stirred him from afar. But it was very near now. Gray Wolf lifted her +head. Her soft muzzle touched the wound on his neck, and in the +gentleness of that touch, in the low sound in her throat, Kazan felt and +heard again that wonderful something that had come with the caress of +the woman's hand and the sound of her voice. + +He turned, whining, his back bristling, his head high and defiant of the +wilderness which he faced. Gray Wolf trotted close at his side as they +entered into the gloom of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + +They found shelter that night under thick balsam, and when they lay down +on the soft carpet of needles which the snow had not covered, Gray Wolf +snuggled her warm body close to Kazan and licked his wounds. The day +broke with a velvety fall of snow, so white and thick that they could +not see a dozen leaps ahead of them in the open. It was quite warm, and +so still that the whole world seemed filled with only the flutter and +whisper of the snowflakes. Through this day Kazan and Gray Wolf traveled +side by side. Time and again he turned his head back to the ridge over +which he had come, and Gray Wolf could not understand the strange note +that trembled in his throat. + +In the afternoon they returned to what was left of the caribou doe on +the lake. In the edge of the forest Gray Wolf hung back. She did not yet +know the meaning of poison-baits, deadfalls and traps, but the instinct +of numberless generations was in her veins, and it told her there was +danger in visiting a second time a thing that had grown cold in death. + +Kazan had seen masters work about carcasses that the wolves had left. He +had seen them conceal traps cleverly, and roll little capsules of +strychnine in the fat of the entrails, and once he had put a foreleg in +a trap, and had experienced its sting and pain and deadly grip. But he +did not have Gray Wolf's fear. He urged her to accompany him to the +white hummocks on the ice, and at last she went with him and sank back +restlessly on her haunches, while he dug out the bones and pieces of +flesh that the snow had kept from freezing. But she would not eat, and +at last Kazan went and sat on his haunches at her side, and with her +looked at what he had dug out from under the snow. He sniffed the air. +He could not smell danger, but Gray Wolf told him that it might be +there. + +She told him many other things in the days and nights that followed. The +third night Kazan himself gathered the hunt-pack and led in the chase. +Three times that month, before the moon left the skies, he led the +chase, and each time there was a kill. But as the snows began to grow +softer under his feet he found a greater and greater companionship in +Gray Wolf, and they hunted alone, living on the big white rabbits. In +all the world he had loved but two things, the girl with the shining +hair and the hands that had caressed him--and Gray Wolf. + +He did not leave the big plain, and often He took his mate to the top of +the ridge, and he would try to tell her what he had left back there. +With the dark nights the call of the woman became so strong upon him +that he was filled with a longing to go back, and take Gray Wolf with +him. + +Something happened very soon after that. They were crossing the open +plain one day when up on the face of the ridge Kazan saw something that +made his heart stand still. A man, with a dog-sledge and team, was +coming down into their world. The wind had not warned them, and suddenly +Kazan saw something glisten in the man's hands. He knew what it was. It +was the thing that spat fire and thunder, and killed. + +He gave his warning to Gray Wolf, and they were off like the wind, side +by side. And then came the _sound_--and Kazan's hatred of men burst +forth in a snarl as he leaped. There was a queer humming over their +heads. The sound from behind came again, and this time Gray Wolf gave a +yelp of pain, and rolled over and over in the snow. She was on her feet +again in an instant, and Kazan dropped behind her, and ran there until +they reached the shelter of the timber. Gray Wolf lay down, and began +licking the wound in her shoulder. Kazan faced the ridge. The man was +taking up their trail. He stopped where Gray Wolf had fallen, and +examined the snow. Then he came on. + +Kazan urged Gray Wolf to her feet, and they made for the thick swamp +close to the lake. All that day they kept in the face of the wind, and +when Gray Wolf lay down Kazan stole back over their trail, watching and +sniffing the air. + +For days after that Gray Wolf ran lame, and when once they came upon the +remains of an old camp, Kazan's teeth were bared in snarling hatred of +the man-scent that had been left behind. Growing in him there was a +desire for vengeance--vengeance for his own hurts, and for Gray Wolf's. +He tried to nose out the man-trail under the cover of fresh snow, and +Gray Wolf circled around him anxiously, and tried to lure him deeper +into the forest. At last he followed her sullenly. There was a savage +redness in his eyes. + +Three days later the new moon came. And on the fifth night Kazan struck +a trail. It was fresh--so fresh that he stopped as suddenly as though +struck by a bullet when he ran upon it, and stood with every muscle in +his body quivering, and his hair on end. It was a man-trail. There were +the marks of the sledge, the dogs' feet, and the snow-shoeprints of his +enemy. + +Then he threw up his head to the stars, and from his throat there rolled +out over the wide plains the hunt-cry--the wild and savage call for the +pack. Never had he put the savagery in it that was there to-night. Again +and again he sent forth that call, and then there came an answer and +another and still another, until Gray Wolf herself sat back on her +haunches and added her voice to Kazan's, and far out on the plain a +white and haggard-faced man halted his exhausted dogs to listen, while a +voice said faintly from the sledge: + +"The wolves, father. Are they coming--after us?" + +The man was silent. He was not young. The moon shone in his long white +beard, and added grotesquely to the height of his tall gaunt figure. A +girl had raised her head from a bearskin pillow on the sleigh. Her dark +eyes were filled beautifully with the starlight. She was pale. Her hair +fell in a thick shining braid over her shoulder, and she was hugging +something tightly to her breast. + +"They're on the trail of something--probably a deer," said the man, +looking at the breech of his rifle. "Don't worry, Jo. We'll stop at the +next bit of scrub and see if we can't find enough dry stuff for a +fire.--Wee-ah-h-h-h, boys! Koosh--koosh--" and he snapped his whip over +the backs of his team. + +From the bundle at the girl's breast there came a small wailing cry. And +far back in the plain there answered it the scattered voice of the pack. + +At last Kazan was on the trail of vengeance. He ran slowly at first, +with Gray Wolf close beside him, pausing every three or four hundred +yards to send forth the cry. A gray leaping form joined them from +behind. Another followed. Two came in from the side, and Kazan's +solitary howl gave place to the wild tongue of the pack. Numbers +grew, and with increasing number the pace became swifter. +Four--six--seven--ten--fourteen, by the time the more open and +wind-swept part of the plain was reached. + +It was a strong pack, filled with old and fearless hunters. Gray Wolf +was the youngest, and she kept close to Kazan's shoulders. She could see +nothing of his red-shot eyes and dripping jaws, and would not have +understood if she had seen. But she could _feel_ and she was thrilled by +the spirit of that strange and mysterious savagery that had made Kazan +forget all things but hurt and death. + +The pack made no sound. There was only the panting of breath and the +soft fall of many feet. They ran swiftly and close. And always Kazan was +a leap ahead, with Gray Wolf nosing his shoulder. + +Never had he wanted to kill as he felt the desire in him to kill now. +For the first time he had no fear of man, no fear of the club, of the +whip, or of the thing that blazed forth fire and death. He ran more +swiftly, in order to overtake them and give them battle sooner. All of +the pent-up madness of four years of slavery and abuse at the hands of +men broke loose in thin red streams of fire in his veins, and when at +last he saw a moving blotch far out on the plain ahead of him, the cry +that came out of his throat was one that Gray Wolf did not understand. + +Three hundred yards beyond that moving blotch was the thin line of +timber, and Kazan and his followers bore down swiftly. Half-way to the +timber they were almost upon it, and suddenly it stopped and became a +black and motionless shadow on the snow. From out of it there leaped +that lightning tongue of flame that Kazan had always dreaded, and he +heard the hissing song of the death-bee over his head. He did not mind +it now. He yelped sharply, and the wolves raced in until four of them +were neck-and-neck with him. + +A second flash--and the death-bee drove from breast to tail of a huge +gray fighter close to Gray Wolf. A third--a fourth--a fifth spurt of +that fire from the black shadow, and Kazan himself felt a sudden swift +passing of a red-hot thing along his shoulder, where the man's last +bullet shaved off the hair and stung his flesh. + +Three of the pack had gone down under the fire of the rifle, and half of +the others were swinging to the right and the left. But Kazan drove +straight ahead. Faithfully Gray Wolf followed him. + +The sledge-dogs had been freed from their traces, and before he could +reach the man, whom he saw with his rifle held like a club in his hands, +Kazan was met by the fighting mass of them. He fought like a fiend, and +there was the strength and the fierceness of two mates in the mad +gnashing of Gray Wolf's fangs. Two of the wolves rushed in, and Kazan +heard the terrific, back-breaking thud of the rifle. To him it was the +_club_. He wanted to reach it. He wanted to reach the man who held it, +and he freed himself from the fighting mass of the dogs and sprang to +the sledge. For the first time he saw that there was something human on +the sledge, and in an instant he was upon it. He buried his jaws deep. +They sank in something soft and hairy, and he opened them for another +lunge. And then he heard the voice! It was _her voice_! Every muscle in +his body stood still. He became suddenly like flesh turned to lifeless +stone. + +_Her voice_! The bear rug was thrown back and what had been hidden under +it he saw clearly now in the light of the moon and the stars. In him +instinct worked more swiftly than human brain could have given birth to +reason. It was not _she_. But the voice was the same, and the white +girlish face so close to his own blood-reddened eyes held in it that +same mystery that he had learned to love. And he saw now that which she +was clutching to her breast, and there came from it a strange thrilling +cry--and he knew that here on the sledge he had found not enmity and +death, but that from which he had been driven away in the other world +beyond the ridge. + +In a flash he turned. He snapped at Gray Wolf's flank, and she dropped +away with a startled yelp. It had all happened in a moment, but the man +was almost down. Kazan leaped under his clubbed rifle and drove into the +face of what was left of the pack. His fangs cut like knives. If he had +fought like a demon against the dogs, he fought like ten demons now, and +the man--bleeding and ready to fall--staggered back to the sledge, +marveling at what was happening. For in Gray Wolf there was now the +instinct of matehood, and seeing Kazan tearing and righting the pack she +joined him in the struggle which she could not understand. + +When it was over, Kazan and Gray Wolf were alone out on the plain. The +pack had slunk away into the night, and the same moon and stars that had +given to Kazan the first knowledge of his birthright told him now that +no longer would those wild brothers of the plains respond to his call +when he howled into the sky. + +He was hurt. And Gray Wolf was hurt, but not so badly as Kazan. He was +torn and bleeding. One of his legs was terribly bitten. After a time he +saw a fire in the edge of the forest. The old call was strong upon him. +He wanted to crawl in to it, and feel the girl's hand on his head, as +he had felt that other hand in the world beyond the ridge. He would have +gone--and would have urged Gray Wolf to go with him--but the man was +there. He whined, and Gray Wolf thrust her warm muzzle against his neck. +Something told them both that they were outcasts, that the plains, and +the moon, and the stars were against them now, and they slunk into the +shelter and the gloom of the forest. + +Kazan could not go far. He could still smell the camp when he lay down. +Gray Wolf snuggled close to him. Gently she soothed with her soft tongue +Kazan's bleeding wounds. And Kazan, lifting his head, whined softly to +the stars. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOAN + + +On the edge of the cedar and spruce forest old Pierre Radisson built the +fire. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds, where the fangs of the wolves +had reached to his flesh, and he felt in his breast that old and +terrible pain, of which no one knew the meaning but himself. He dragged +in log after log, piled them on the fire until the flames leaped tip to +the crisping needles of the limbs above, and heaped a supply close at +hand for use later in the night. + +From the sledge Joan watched him, still wild-eyed and fearful, still +trembling. She was holding her baby close to her breast. Her long heavy +hair smothered her shoulders and arms in a dark lustrous veil that +glistened and rippled in the firelight when she moved. Her young face +was scarcely a woman's to-night, though she was a mother. She looked +like a child. + +Old Pierre laughed as he threw down the last armful of fuel, and stood +breathing hard. + +"It was close, _ma cheri_" he panted through his white beard. "We were +nearer to death out there on the plain than we will ever be again, I +hope. But we are comfortable now, and warm. Eh? You are no longer +afraid?" + +He sat down beside his daughter, and gently pulled back the soft fur +that enveloped the bundle she held in her arms. He could see one pink +cheek of baby Joan. The eyes of Joan, the mother, were like stars. + +"It was the baby who saved us," she whispered. "The dogs were being torn +to pieces by the wolves, and I saw them leaping upon you, when one of +them sprang to the sledge. At first I thought it was one of the dogs. +But it was a wolf. He tore once at us, and the bearskin saved us. He was +almost at my throat when baby cried, and then he stood there, his red +eyes a foot from us, and I could have sworn again that he was a dog. In +an instant he turned, and was fighting the wolves. I saw him leap upon +one that was almost at your throat." + +"He _was_ a dog," said old Pierre, holding out his hands to the warmth. +"They often wander away from the posts, and join the wolves. I have had +dogs do that. _Ma cheri_, a dog is a dog all his life. Kicks, abuse, +even the wolves can not change him--for long. He was one of the pack. He +came with them--to kill. But when he found _us_--" + +"He fought for us," breathed the girl. She gave him the bundle, and +stood up, straight and tall and slim in the firelight. "He fought for +us--and he was terribly hurt," she said. "I saw him drag himself away. +Father, if he is out there--dying--" + +Pierre Radisson stood up. He coughed in a shuddering way, trying to +stifle the sound under his beard. The fleck of crimson that came to his +lips with the cough Joan did not see. She had seen nothing of it during +the six days they had been traveling up from the edge of civilization. +Because of that cough, and the stain that came with it, Pierre had made +more than ordinary haste. + +"I have been thinking of that," he said. "He was badly hurt, and I do +not think he went far. Here--take little Joan and sit close to the fire +until I come back." + +The moon and the stars were brilliant in the sky when he went out in the +plain. A short distance from the edge of the timber-line he stood for a +moment upon the spot where the wolves had overtaken them an hour before. +Not one of his four dogs had lived. The snow was red with their blood, +and their bodies lay stiff where they had fallen under the pack. Pierre +shuddered as he looked at them. If the wolves had not turned their first +mad attack upon the dogs, what would have become of himself, Joan and +the baby? He turned away, with another of those hollow coughs that +brought the blood to his lips. + +A few yards to one side he found in the snow the trail of the strange +dog that had come with the wolves, and had turned against them in that +moment when all seemed lost. It was not a clean running trail. It was +more of a furrow in the snow, and Pierre Radisson followed it, expecting +to find the dog dead at the end of it. + +In the sheltered spot to which he had dragged himself in the edge of the +forest Kazan lay for a long time after the fight, alert and watchful. +He felt no very great pain. But he had lost the power to stand upon his +legs. His flanks seemed paralyzed. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, +sniffing the air. They could smell the camp, and Kazan could detect the +two things that were there--_man_ and _woman_. He knew that the girl was +there, where he could see the glow of the firelight through the spruce +and the cedars. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to drag himself close +in to the fire, and take Gray Wolf with him, and listen to her voice, +and feel the touch of her hand. But the man was there, and to him man +had always meant the club, the whip, pain, death. + +Gray Wolf crouched close to his side, and whined softly as she urged +Kazan to flee deeper with her into the forest. At last she understood +that he could not move, and she ran nervously out into the plain, and +back again, until her footprints were thick in the trail she made. The +instincts of matehood were strong in her. It was she who first saw +Pierre Radisson coming over their trail, and she ran swiftly back to +Kazan and gave the warning. + +Then Kazan caught the scent, and he saw the shadowy figure coming +through the starlight. He tried to drag himself back, but he could move +only by inches. The man came rapidly nearer. Kazan caught the glisten of +the rifle in his hand. He heard his hollow cough, and the tread of his +feet in the snow. Gray Wolf crouched shoulder to shoulder with him, +trembling and showing her teeth. When Pierre had approached within fifty +feet of them she slunk back into the deeper shadows of the spruce. + +Kazan's fangs were bared menacingly when Pierre stopped and looked down +at him. With an effort he dragged himself to his feet, but fell back +into the snow again. The man leaned his rifle against a sapling and bent +over him fearlessly. With a fierce growl Kazan snapped at his extended +hands. To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club. He +held out his hand again--cautiously--and spoke in a voice new to Kazan. +The dog snapped again, and growled. + +The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened +hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it. +Again and again the man reached out his hand, and three times Kazan felt +the touch of it, and there was neither threat nor hurt in it. At last +Pierre turned away and went back over the trail. + +When he was out of sight and hearing, Kazan whined, and the crest along +his spine flattened. He looked wistfully toward the glow of the fire. +The man had not hurt him, and the three-quarters of him that was dog +wanted to follow. + +Gray Wolf came back, and stood with stiffly planted forefeet at his +side. She had never been this near to man before, except when the pack +had overtaken the sledge out on the plain. She could not understand. +Every instinct that was in her warned her that he was the most dangerous +of all things, more to be feared than the strongest beasts, the storms, +the floods, cold and starvation. And yet this man had not harmed her +mate. She sniffed at Kazan's back and head, where the mittened hand had +touched. Then she trotted back into the darkness again, for beyond the +edge of the forest she once more saw moving life. + +The man was returning, and with him was the girl. Her voice was soft +and sweet, and there was about her the breath and sweetness of woman. +The man stood prepared, but not threatening. + +"Be careful, Joan," he warned. + +She dropped on her knees in the snow, just out of reach. + +"Come, boy--come!" she said gently. She held out her hand. Kazan's +muscles twitched. He moved an inch--two inches toward her. There was the +old light in her eyes and face now, the love and gentleness he had known +once before, when another woman with shining hair and eyes had come into +his life. "Come!" she whispered as she saw him move, and she bent a +little, reached a little farther with her hand, and at last touched his +head. + +Pierre knelt beside her. He was proffering something, and Kazan smelled +meat. But it was the girl's hand that made him tremble and shiver, and +when she drew back, urging him to follow her, he dragged himself +painfully a foot or two through the snow. Not until then did the girl +see his mangled leg. In an instant she had forgotten all caution, and +was down close at his side. + +"He can't walk," she cried, a sudden tremble in her voice. "Look, _mon +père!_ Here is a terrible cut. We must carry him." + +"I guessed that much," replied Radisson. "For that reason I brought the +blanket. _Mon Dieu_, listen to that!" + +From the darkness of the forest there came a low wailing cry. + +Kazan lifted his head and a trembling whine answered in his throat. It +was Gray Wolf calling to him. + +It was a miracle that Pierre Radisson should put the blanket about +Kazan, and carry him in to the camp, without scratch or bite. It was +this miracle that he achieved, with Joan's arm resting on Kazan's shaggy +neck as she held one end of the blanket. They laid him down close to the +fire, and after a little it was the man again who brought warm water and +washed away the blood from the torn leg, and then put something on it +that was soft and warm and soothing, and finally bound a cloth about it. + +All this Was strange and new to Kazan. Pierre's hand, as well as the +girl's, stroked his head. It was the man who brought him a gruel of meal +and tallow, and urged him to eat, while Joan sat with her chin in her +two hands, looking at the dog, and talking to him. After this, when he +was quite comfortable, and no longer afraid, he heard a strange small +cry from the furry bundle on the sledge that brought his head up with a +jerk. + +Joan saw the movement, and heard the low answering whimper in his +throat. She turned quickly to the bundle, talking and cooing to it as +she took it in her arms, and then she pulled back the bearskin so that +Kazan could see. He had never seen a baby before, and Joan held it out +before him, so that he could look straight at it and see what a +wonderful creature it was. Its little pink face stared steadily at +Kazan. Its tiny fists reached out, and it made queer little sounds at +him, and then suddenly it kicked and screamed with delight and laughed. +At those sounds Kazan's whole body relaxed, and he dragged himself to +the girl's feet. + +"See, he likes the baby!" she cried. "_Mon père_, we must give him a +name. What shall it be?" + +"Wait till morning for that," replied the father. "It is late, Joan. Go +into the tent, and sleep. We have no dogs now, and will travel slowly. +So we must start early." + +With her hand on the tent-flap, Joan, turned. + +"He came with the wolves," she said. "Let us call him Wolf." With one +arm she was holding the little Joan. The other she stretched out to +Kazan. "Wolf! Wolf!" she called softly. + +Kazan's eyes were on her. He knew that she was speaking to him, and he +drew himself a foot toward her. + +"He knows it already!" she cried. "Good night, _mon père_." + +For a long time after she had gone into the tent, old Pierre Radisson +sat on the edge of the sledge, facing the fire, with Kazan at his feet. +Suddenly the silence was broken again by Gray Wolf's lonely howl deep in +the forest. Kazan lifted his head and whined. + +"She's calling for you, boy," said Pierre understandingly. + +He coughed, and clutched a hand to his breast, where the pain seemed +rending him. + +"Frost-bitten lung," he said, speaking straight at Kazan. "Got it early +in the winter, up at Fond du Lac. Hope we'll get home--in time--with the +kids." + +In the loneliness and emptiness of the big northern wilderness one falls +into the habit of talking to one's self. But Kazan's head was alert, and +his eyes watchful, so Pierre spoke to him. + +"We've got to get them home, and there's only you and me to do it," he +said, twisting his beard. Suddenly he clenched his fists. + +His hollow racking cough convulsed him again. + +"Home!" he panted, clutching his chest. "It's eighty miles straight +north--to the Churchill--and I pray to God we'll get there--with the +kids--before my lungs give out." + +He rose to his feet, and staggered a little as he walked. There was a +collar about Kazan's neck, and he chained him to the sledge. After that +he dragged three or four small logs upon the fire, and went quietly into +the tent where Joan and the baby were already asleep. Several times +that night Kazan heard the distant voice of Gray Wolf calling for him, +but something told him that he must not answer it now. Toward dawn Gray +Wolf came close in to the camp, and for the first time Kazan replied to +her. + +His howl awakened the man. He came out of the tent, peered for a few +moments up at the sky, built up the fire, and began to prepare +breakfast. He patted Kazan on the head, and gave him a chunk of meat. +Joan came out a few moments later, leaving the baby asleep in the tent. +She ran up and kissed Pierre, and then dropped down on her knees beside +Kazan, and talked to him almost as he had heard her talk to the baby. +When she jumped up to help her father, Kazan followed her, and when Joan +saw him standing firmly upon his legs she gave a cry of pleasure. + +It was a strange journey that began into the North that day. Pierre +Radisson emptied the sledge of everything but the tent, blankets, food +and the furry nest for baby Joan. Then he harnessed himself in the +traces and dragged the sledge over the snow. He coughed incessantly. + +"It's a cough I've had half the winter," lied Pierre, careful that Joan +saw no sign of blood on his lips or beard. "I'll keep in the cabin for a +week when we get home." + +Even Kazan, with that strange beast knowledge which man, unable to +explain, calls instinct, knew that what he said was not the truth. +Perhaps it was largely because he had heard other men cough like this, +and that for generations his sledge-dog ancestors had heard men cough as +Radisson coughed--and had learned what followed it. + +More than once he had scented death in tepees and cabins, which he had +not entered, and more than once he had sniffed at the mystery of death +that was not quite present, but near--just as he had caught at a +distance the subtle warning of storm and of fire. And that strange thing +seemed to be very near to him now, as he followed at the end of his +chain behind the sledge. It made him restless, and half a dozen times, +when the sledge stopped, he sniffed at the bit of humanity buried in the +bearskin. Each time that he did this Joan was quickly at his side, and +twice she patted his scarred and grizzled head until every drop of +blood in his body leaped riotously with a joy which his body did not +reveal. + +This day the chief thing that he came to understand was that the little +creature on the sledge was very precious to the girl who stroked his +head and talked to him, and that it was very helpless. He learned, too, +that Joan was most delighted, and that her voice was softer and thrilled +him more deeply, when he paid attention to that little, warm, living +thing in the bearskin. + +For a long time after they made camp Pierre Radisson sat beside the +fire. To-night he did not smoke. He stared straight into the flames. +When at last he rose to go into the tent with the girl and the baby, he +bent over Kazan and examined his hurt. + +"You've got to work in the traces to-morrow, boy," he said. "We must +make the river by to-morrow night. If we don't--" + +He did not finish. He was choking back one of those tearing coughs when +the tent-flap dropped behind him. Kazan lay stiff and alert, his eyes +filled with a strange anxiety. He did not like to see Radisson enter the +tent, for stronger than ever there hung that oppressive mystery in the +air about him, and it seemed to be a part of Pierre. + +Three times that night he heard faithful Gray Wolf calling for him deep +in the forest, and each time he answered her. Toward dawn she came in +close to camp. Once he caught the scent of her when she circled around +in the wind, and he tugged and whined at the end of his chain, hoping +that she would come in and lie down at his side. But no sooner had +Radisson moved in the tent than Gray Wolf was gone. The man's face was +thinner, and his eyes were redder this morning. His cough was not so +loud or so rending. It was like a wheeze, as if something had given way +inside, and before the girl came out he clutched his hands often at his +throat. Joan's face whitened when she saw him. Anxiety gave way to fear +in her eyes. Pierre Radisson laughed when she flung her arms about him, +and coughed to prove that what he said was true. + +"You see the cough is not so bad, my Joan," he said. "It is breaking up. +You can not have forgotten, _ma cheri_? It always leaves one red-eyed +and weak." + +It was a cold bleak dark day that followed, and through it Kazan and +the man tugged at the fore of the sledge, with Joan following in the +trail behind. Kazan's wound no longer hurt him. He pulled steadily with +all his splendid strength, and the man never lashed him once, but patted +him with his mittened hand on head and back. The day grew steadily +darker and in the tops of the trees there was the low moaning of a +storm. + +Darkness and the coming of the storm did not drive Pierre Radisson into +camp. "We must reach the river," he said to himself over and over again. +"We must reach the river--we must reach the river--" And he steadily +urged Kazan on to greater effort, while his own strength at the end of +the traces grew less. + +It had begun to storm when Pierre stopped to build a fire at noon. The +snow fell straight down in a white deluge so thick that it hid the tree +trunks fifty yards away. Pierre laughed when Joan shivered and snuggled +close up to him with the baby in her arms. He waited only an hour, and +then fastened Kazan in the traces again, and buckled the straps once +more about his own waist. In the silent gloom that was almost night +Pierre carried his compass in his hand, and at last, late in the +afternoon, they came to a break in the timber-line, and ahead of them +lay a plain, across which Radisson pointed an exultant hand. + +"There's the river, Joan," he said, his voice faint and husky. "We can +camp here now and wait for the storm to pass." + +Under a thick clump of spruce he put up the tent, and then began +gathering fire-wood. Joan helped him. As soon as they had boiled coffee +and eaten a supper of meat and toasted biscuits, Joan went into the tent +and dropped exhausted on her thick bed of balsam boughs, wrapping +herself and the baby up close in the skins and blankets. To-night she +had no word for Kazan. And Pierre was glad that she was too tired to sit +beside the fire and talk. And yet-- + +Kazan's alert eyes saw Pierre start suddenly. He rose from his seat on +the sledge and went to the tent. He drew back the flap and thrust in his +head and shoulders. + +"Asleep, Joan?" he asked. + +"Almost, father. Won't you please come--soon?" + +"After I smoke," he said. "Are you comfortable?" + +"Yes, I'm so tired--and--sleepy--" + +Pierre laughed softly. In the darkness he was gripping at his throat. + +"We're almost home, Joan. That is our river out there--the Little +Beaver. If I should run away and leave you to-night you could follow it +right to our cabin. It's only forty miles. Do you hear?" + +"Yes--I know--" + +"Forty miles--straight down the river. You couldn't lose yourself, Joan. +Only you'd have to be careful of air-holes in the ice." + +"Won't you come to bed, father? You're tired--and almost sick." + +"Yes--after I smoke," he repeated. "Joan, will you keep reminding me +to-morrow of the air-holes? I might forget. You can always tell them, +for the snow and the crust over them are whiter than that on the rest of +the ice, and like a sponge. Will you remember--the airholes--" + +"Yes-s-s-s--" + +Pierre dropped the tent-flap and returned to the fire. He staggered as +he walked. + +"Good night, boy," he said. "Guess I'd better go in with the kids. Two +days more--forty miles--two days--" + +Kazan watched him as he entered the tent. He laid his weight against the +end of his chain until the collar shut off his wind. His legs and back +twitched. In that tent where Radisson had gone were Joan and the baby. +He knew that Pierre would not hurt them, but he knew also that with +Pierre Radisson something terrible and impending was hovering very near +to them. He wanted the man outside--by the fire--where he could lie +still, and watch him. + +In the tent there was silence. Nearer to him than before came Gray +Wolf's cry. Each night she was calling earlier, and coming closer to the +camp. He wanted her very near to him to-night, but he did not even whine +in response. He dared not break that strange silence in the tent. He lay +still for a long time, tired and lame from the day's journey, but +sleepless. The fire burned lower; the wind in the tree-tops died away; +and the thick gray clouds rolled like a massive curtain from under the +skies. The stars began to glow white and metallic, and from far in the +North there came faintly a crisping moaning sound, like steel +sleigh-runners running over frosty snow--the mysterious monotone of the +Northern Lights. After that it grew steadily and swiftly colder. + +To-night Gray Wolf did not compass herself by the direction of the wind. +She followed like a sneaking shadow over the trail Pierre Radisson had +made, and when Kazan heard her again, long after midnight, he lay with, +his head erect, and his body rigid, save for a curious twitching of his +muscles. There was a new note in Gray Wolf's voice, a wailing note in +which there was more than the mate-call. It was The Message. And at the +sound of it Kazan rose from out of his silence and his fear, and with +his head turned straight up to the sky he howled as the wild dogs of the +North howl before the tepees of masters who are newly dead. + +Pierre Radisson was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + +It was dawn when the baby snuggled close to Joan's warm breast and +awakened her with its cry of hunger. She opened her eyes, brushed back +the thick hair from her face, and could see where the shadowy form of +her father was lying at the other side of the tent. He was very quiet, +and she was pleased that he was still sleeping. She knew that the day +before he had been very near to exhaustion, and so for half an hour +longer she lay quiet, cooing softly to the baby Joan. Then she arose +cautiously, tucked the baby in the warm blankets and furs, put on her +heavier garments, and went outside. + +By this time it was broad day, and she breathed a sigh of relief when +she saw that the storm had passed. It was bitterly cold. It seemed to +her that she had never known it to be so cold in all her life. The fire +was completely out. Kazan was huddled in a round ball, his nose tucked +under his body. He raised his head, shivering, as Joan came out. With +her heavily moccasined foot Joan scattered the ashes and charred sticks +where the fire had been. There was not a spark left. In returning to the +tent she stopped for a moment beside Kazan, and patted his shaggy head. + +"Poor Wolf!" she said. "I wish I had given you one of the bearskins!" + +She threw back the tent-flap and entered. For the first time she saw her +father's face in the light--and outside, Kazan heard the terrible +moaning cry that broke from her lips. No one could have looked at Pierre +Radisson's face once--and not have understood. + +After that one agonizing cry, Joan flung herself upon her father's +breast, sobbing so softly that even Kazan's sharp ears heard no sound. +She remained there in her grief until every vital energy of womanhood +and motherhood in her girlish body was roused to action by the wailing +cry of baby Joan. Then she sprang to her feet and ran out through the +tent opening. Kazan tugged at the end of his chain to meet her, but she +saw nothing of him now. The terror of the wilderness is greater than +that of death, and in an instant it had fallen upon Joan. It was not +because of fear for herself. It was the baby. The wailing cries from the +tent pierced her like knife-thrusts. + +And then, all at once, there came to her what old Pierre had said the +night before--his words about the river, the air-holes, the home forty +miles away. "_You couldn't lose yourself, Joan_" He had guessed what +might happen. + +She bundled the baby deep in the furs and returned to the fire-bed. Her +one thought now was that they must have fire. She made a little pile of +birch-bark, covered it with half-burned bits of wood, and went into the +tent for the matches. Pierre Radisson carried them in a water-proof box +in a pocket of his bearskin coat. She sobbed as she kneeled beside him +again, and obtained the box. As the fire flared up she added other bits +of wood, and then some of the larger pieces that Pierre had dragged into +camp. The fire gave her courage. Forty miles--and the river led to their +home! She must make that, with the baby and Wolf. For the first time +she turned to him, and spoke his name as she put her hand on his head. +After that she gave him a chunk of meat which she thawed out over the +fire, and melted the snow for tea. She was not hungry, but she recalled +how her father had made her eat four or five times a day, so she forced +herself to make a breakfast of a biscuit, a shred of meat and as much +hot tea as she could drink. + +The terrible hour she dreaded followed that. She wrapped blankets +closely about her father's body, and tied them with babiche cord. After +that she piled all the furs and blankets that remained on the sledge +close to the fire, and snuggled baby Joan deep down in them. Pulling +down the tent was a task. The ropes were stiff and frozen, and when she +had finished, one of her hands was bleeding. She piled the tent on the +sledge, and then, half, covering her face, turned and looked back. + +Pierre Radisson lay on his balsam bed, with nothing over him now but the +gray sky and the spruce-tops. Kazan stood stiff-legged and sniffed the +air. His spine bristled when Joan went back slowly and kneeled beside +the blanket-wrapped object. When she returned to him her face was white +and tense, and now there was a strange and terrible look in her eyes as +she stared out across the barren. She put him in the traces, and +fastened about her slender waist the strap that Pierre had used. Thus +they struck out for the river, floundering knee-deep in the freshly +fallen and drifted snow. Half-way Joan stumbled in a drift and fell, her +loose hair flying in a shimmering veil over the snow. With a mighty pull +Kazan was at her side, and his cold muzzle touched her face as she drew +herself to her feet. For a moment Joan took his shaggy head between her +two hands. + +"Wolf!" she moaned. "Oh, Wolf!" + +She went on, her breath coming pantingly now, even from her brief +exertion. The snow was not so deep on the ice of the river. But a wind +was rising. It came from the north and east, straight in her face, and +Joan bowed her head as she pulled with Kazan. Half a mile down the river +she stopped, and no longer could she repress the hopelessness that rose +to her lips in a sobbing choking cry. Forty miles! She clutched her +hands at her breast, and stood breathing like one who had been beaten, +her back to the wind. The baby was quiet. Joan went back and peered down +under the furs, and what she saw there spurred her on again almost +fiercely. Twice she stumbled to her knees in the drifts during the next +quarter of a mile. + +After that there was a stretch of wind-swept ice, and Kazan pulled the +sledge alone. Joan walked at his side. There was a pain in her chest. A +thousand needles seemed pricking her face, and suddenly she remembered +the thermometer. She exposed it for a time on the top of the tent. When +she looked at it a few minutes later it was thirty degrees below zero. +Forty miles! And her father had told her that she could make it--and +could not lose herself! But she did not know that even her father would +have been afraid to face the north that day, with the temperature at +thirty below, and a moaning wind bringing the first warning of a +blizzard. + +The timber was far behind her now. Ahead there was nothing but the +pitiless barren, and the timber beyond that was hidden by the gray gloom +of the day. If there had been trees, Joan's heart would not have choked +so with terror. But there was nothing--nothing but that gray ghostly +gloom, with the rim of the sky touching the earth a mile away. + +The snow grew heavy under her feet again. Always she was watching for +those treacherous, frost-coated traps in the ice her father had spoken +of. But she found now that all the ice and snow looked alike to her, and +that there was a growing pain back of her eyes. It was the intense cold. + +The river widened into a small lake, and here the wind struck her in the +face with such force that her weight was taken from the strap, and Kazan +dragged the sledge alone. A few inches of snow impeded her as much as a +foot had done before. Little by little she dropped back. Kazan forged to +her side, every ounce of his magnificent strength in the traces. By the +time they were on the river channel again, Joan was at the back of the +sledge, following in the trail made by Kazan. She was powerless to help +him. She felt more and more the leaden weight of her legs. There was but +one hope--and that was the forest. If they did not reach it soon, within +half an hour, she would be able to go no farther. Over and over again +she moaned a prayer for her baby as she struggled on. She fell in the +snow-drifts. Kazan and the sledge became only a dark blotch to her. And +then, all at once, she saw that they were leaving her. They were not +more than twenty feet ahead of her--but the blotch seemed to be a vast +distance away. Every bit of life and strength in her body was now bent +upon reaching the sledge--and baby Joan. + +It seemed an interminable time before she gained. With the sledge only +six feet ahead of her she struggled for what seemed to her to be an hour +before she could reach out and touch it. With a moan she flung herself +forward, and fell upon it. She no longer heard the wailing of the storm. +She no longer felt discomfort. With her face in the furs under which +baby Joan was buried, there came to her with swiftness and joy a vision +of warmth and home. And then the vision faded away, and was followed by +deep night. + +Kazan stopped in the trail. He came back then and sat down upon his +haunches beside her, waiting for her to move and speak. But she was +very still. He thrust his nose into her loose hair. A whine rose in his +throat, and suddenly he raised his head and sniffed in the face of the +wind. Something came to him with that wind. He muzzled Joan again, hut +she did not stir. Then he went forward, and stood in his traces, ready +for the pull, and looked hack at her. Still she did not move or speak, +and Kazan's whine gave place to a sharp excited bark. + +The strange thing in the wind came to him stronger for a moment. He +began to pull. The sledge-runners had frozen to the snow, and it took +every ounce of his strength to free them. Twice during the next five +minutes he stopped and sniffed the air. The third time that he halted, +in a drift of snow, he returned to Joan's side again, and whined to +awaken her. Then he tugged again at the end of his traces, and foot by +foot he dragged the sledge through the drift. Beyond the drift there was +a stretch of clear ice, and here Kazan rested. During a lull in the wind +the scent came to him stronger than before. + +At the end of the clear ice was a narrow break in the shore, where a +creek ran into the main stream. If Joan had been conscious she would +have urged him straight ahead. But Kazan turned into the break, and for +ten minutes he struggled through the snow without a rest, whining more +and more frequently, until at last the whine broke into a joyous bark. +Ahead of him, close to the creek, was a small cabin. Smoke was rising +out of the chimney. It was the scent of smoke that had come to him in +the wind. A hard level slope reached to the cabin door, and with the +last strength that was in him Kazan dragged his burden up that. Then he +settled himself back beside Joan, lifted his shaggy head to the dark sky +and howled. + +A moment later the door opened. A man came out. Kazan's reddened, +snow-shot eyes followed him watchfully as he ran to the sledge. He heard +his startled exclamation as he bent over Joan. In another lull of the +wind there came from out of the mass of furs on the sledge the wailing, +half-smothered voice of baby Joan. + +A deep sigh of relief heaved up from Kazan's chest. He was exhausted. +His strength was gone. His feet were torn and bleeding. But the voice +of baby Joan filled him with a strange happiness, and he lay down in his +traces, while the man carried Joan and the baby into the life and warmth +of the cabin. + +A few minutes later the man reappeared. He was not old, like Pierre +Radisson. He came close to Kazan, and looked down at him. + +"My God," he said. "And you did that--_alone!_" + +He bent down fearlessly, unfastened him from the traces, and led him +toward the cabin door. Kazan hesitated but once--almost on the +threshold. He turned his head, swift and alert. From out of the moaning +and wailing of the storm it seemed to him that for a moment he had heard +the voice of Gray Wolf. + +Then the cabin door closed behind him. + +Back in a shadowy corner of the cabin he lay, while the man prepared +something over a hot stove for Joan. It was a long time before Joan rose +from the cot on which the man had placed her. After that Kazan heard her +sobbing; and then the man made her eat, and for a time they talked. Then +the stranger hung up a big blanket in front of the bunk, and sat down +close to the stove. Quietly Kazan slipped along the wall, and crept +under the bunk. For a long time he could hear the sobbing breath of the +girl. Then all was still. + +The next morning he slipped out through the door when the man opened it, +and sped swiftly into the forest. Half a mile away he found the trail of +Gray Wolf, and called to her. From the frozen river came her reply, and +he went to her. + +Vainly Gray Wolf tried to lure him back into their old haunts--away from +the cabin and the scent of man. Late that morning the man harnessed his +dogs, and from the fringe of the forest Kazan saw him tuck Joan and the +baby among the furs on the sledge, as old Pierre had done. All that day +he followed in the trail of the team, with Gray Wolf slinking behind +him. They traveled until dark; and then, under the stars and the moon +that had followed the storm, the man still urged on his team. It was +deep in the night when they came to another cabin, and the man beat upon +the door. A light, the opening of the door, the joyous welcome of a +man's voice, Joan's sobbing cry--Kazan heard these from the shadows in +which he was hidden, and then slipped back to Gray Wolf. + +In the days and weeks that followed Joan's home-coming the lure of the +cabin and of the woman's hand held Kazan. As he had tolerated Pierre, so +now he tolerated the younger man who lived with Joan and the baby. He +knew that the man was very dear to Joan, and that the baby was very dear +to him, as it was to the girl. It was not until the third day that Joan +succeeded in coaxing him into the cabin--and that was the day on which +the man returned with the dead and frozen body of Pierre. It was Joan's +husband who first found the name on the collar he wore, and they began +calling him Kazan. + +Half a mile away, at the summit of a huge mass of rock which the Indians +called the Sun Rock, he and Gray Wolf had found a home; and from here +they went down to their hunts on the plain, and often the girl's voice +reached up to them, calling, "_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +Through all the long winter Kazan hovered thus between the lure of Joan +and the cabin--and Gray Wolf. + +Then came Spring--and the Great Change. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE GREAT CHANGE + + +The rocks, the ridges and the valleys were taking on a warmer glow. The +poplar buds were ready to burst. The scent of balsam and of spruce grew +heavier in the air each day, and all through the wilderness, in plain +and forest, there was the rippling murmur of the spring floods finding +their way to Hudson's Bay. In that great bay there was the rumble and +crash of the ice fields thundering down in the early break-up through +the Roes Welcome--the doorway to the Arctic, and for that reason there +still came with the April wind an occasional sharp breath of winter. + +Kazan had sheltered himself against that wind. Not a breath of air +stirred in the sunny spot the wolf-dog had chosen for himself. He was +more comfortable than he had been at any time during the six months of +terrible winter--and as he slept he dreamed. + +Gray Wolf, his wild mate, lay near him, flat on her belly, her forepaws +reaching out, her eyes and nostrils as keen and alert as the smell of +man could make them. For there was that smell of man, as well as of +balsam and spruce, in the warm spring air. She gazed anxiously and +sometimes steadily, at Kazan as he slept. Her own gray spine stiffened +when she saw the tawny hair along Kazan's back bristle at some dream +vision. She whined softly as his upper lip snarled back, showing his +long white fangs. But for the most part Kazan lay quiet, save for the +muscular twitchings of legs, shoulders and muzzle, which always tell +when a dog is dreaming; and as he dreamed there came to the door of the +cabin out on the plain a blue-eyed girl-woman, with a big brown braid +over her shoulder, who called through the cup of her hands, "Kazan, +Kazan, Kazan!" + +The voice reached faintly to the top of the Sun Rock, and Gray Wolf +flattened her ears. Kazan stirred, and in another instant he was awake +and on his feet. He leaped to an outcropping ledge, sniffing the air and +looking far out over the plain that lay below them. + +Over the plain the woman's voice came to them again, and Kazan ran to +the edge of the rock and whined. Gray Wolf stepped softly to his side +and laid her muzzle on his shoulder. She had grown to know what the +Voice meant. Day and night she feared it, more than she feared the scent +or sound of man. + +Since she had given up the pack and her old life for Kazan, the Voice +had become Gray Wolf's greatest enemy, and she hated it. It took Kazan +from her. And wherever it went, Kazan followed. + +Night after night it robbed her of her mate, and left her to wander +alone under the stars and the moon, keeping faithfully to her +loneliness, and never once responding with her own tongue to the +hunt-calls of her wild brothers and sisters in the forests and out on +the plains. Usually she would snarl at the Voice, and sometimes nip +Kazan lightly to show her displeasure. But to-day, as the Voice came a +third time, she slunk back into the darkness of a fissure between two +rocks, and Kazan saw only the fiery glow of her eyes. + +Kazan ran nervously to the trail their feet had worn up to the top of +the Sun Rock, and stood undecided. All day, and yesterday, he had been +uneasy and disturbed. Whatever it was that stirred him seemed to be in +the air, for he could not see it or hear it or scent it. But he could +_feel_ it. He went to the fissure and sniffed at Gray Wolf. Usually she +whined coaxingly. But her response to-day was to draw back her lips +until he could see her white fangs. + +A fourth tune the Voice came to them faintly, and she snapped fiercely +at some unseen thing in the darkness between the two rocks. Kazan went +again to the trail, still hesitating. Then he began to go down. It was a +narrow winding trail, worn only by the pads and claws of animals, for +the Sun Rock was a huge crag that rose almost sheer up for a hundred +feet above the tops of the spruce and balsam, its bald crest catching +the first gleams of the sun in the morning and the last glow of it in +the evening. Gray Wolf had first led Kazan to the security of the +retreat at the top of the rock. + +When he reached the bottom he no longer hesitated, but darted swiftly in +the direction of the cabin. Because of that instinct of the wild that +was still in him, he always approached the cabin with caution. He never +gave warning, and for a moment Joan was startled when she looked up from +her baby and saw Kazan's shaggy head and shoulders in the open door. The +baby struggled and kicked in her delight, and held out her two hands +with cooing cries to Kazan. Joan, too, held out a hand. + +"Kazan!" she cried softly. "Come in, Kazan!" + +Slowly the wild red light in Kazan's eyes softened. He put a forefoot on +the sill, and stood there, while the girl urged him again. Suddenly his +legs seemed to sink a little under him, his tail drooped and he slunk in +with that doggish air of having committed a crime. The creatures he +loved were in the cabin, but the cabin itself he hated. He hated all +cabins, for they all breathed of the club and the whip and bondage. Like +all sledge-dogs he preferred the open snow for a bed, and the +spruce-tops for shelter. + +Joan dropped her hand to his head, and at its touch there thrilled +through him that strange joy that was his reward for leaving Gray Wolf +and the wild. Slowly he raised his head until his black muzzle rested on +her lap, and he closed his eyes while that wonderful little creature +that mystified him so--the baby--prodded him with her tiny feet, and +pulled his tawny hair. He loved these baby-maulings even more than the +touch of Joan's hand. + +Motionless, sphinx-like, undemonstrative in every muscle of his body, +Kazan stood, scarcely breathing. More than once this lack of +demonstration had urged Joan's husband to warn her. But the wolf that +was in Kazan, his wild aloofness, even his mating with Gray Wolf had +made her love him more. She understood, and had faith in him. + +In the days of the last snow Kazan had proved himself. A neighboring +trapper had run over with his team, and the baby Joan had toddled up to +one of the big huskies. There was a fierce snap of jaws, a scream of +horror from Joan, a shout from the men as they leaped toward the pack. +But Kazan was ahead of them all. In a gray streak that traveled with the +speed of a bullet he was at the big husky's throat. When they pulled him +off, the husky was dead. Joan thought of that now, as the baby kicked +and tousled Kazan's head. + +"Good old Kazan," she cried softly, putting her face down close to him. +"We're glad you came, Kazan, for we're going to be alone to-night--baby +and I. Daddy's gone to the post, and you must care for us while he's +away." + +She tickled his nose with the end of her long shining braid. This always +delighted the baby, for in spite of his stoicism Kazan had to sniff and +sometimes to sneeze, and twig his ears. And it pleased him, too. He +loved the sweet scent of Joan's hair. + +"And you'd fight for us, if you had to, wouldn't you?" she went on. Then +she rose quietly. "I must close the door," she said. "I don't want you +to go away again to-day, Kazan. You must stay with us." + +Kazan went off to his corner, and lay down. Just as there had been some +strange thing at the top of the Sun Rock to disturb him that day, so now +there was a mystery that disturbed him in the cabin. He sniffed the air, +trying to fathom its secret. Whatever it was, it seemed to make his +mistress different, too. And she was digging out all sorts of odds and +ends of things about the cabin, and doing them up in packages. Late that +night, before she went to bed, Joan came and snuggled her hand close +down beside him for a few moments. + +"We're going away," she whispered, and there was a curious tremble that +was almost a sob in her voice. "We're going home, Kazan. We're going +away down where his people live--where they have churches, and cities, +and music, and all the beautiful things in the world. And we're going to +take _you_, Kazan!" + +Kazan didn't understand. But he was happy at having the woman so near to +him, and talking to him. At these times he forgot Gray Wolf. The dog +that was in him surged over his quarter-strain of wildness, and the +woman and the baby alone filled his world. But after Joan had gone to +her bed, and all was quiet in the cabin, his old uneasiness returned. He +rose to his feet and moved stealthily about the cabin, sniffing at the +walls, the door and the things his mistress had done into packages. A +low whine rose in his throat. Joan, half asleep, heard it, and murmured: +"Be quiet, Kazan. Go to sleep--go to sleep--" + +Long after that, Kazan stood rigid in the center of the room, listening, +trembling. And faintly he heard, far away, the wailing cry of, Gray +Wolf. But to-night it was not the cry of loneliness. It sent a thrill +through him. He ran to the door, and whined, but Joan was deep in +slumber and did not hear him. Once more he heard the cry, and only once. +Then the night grew still. He crouched down near the door. + +Joan found him there, still watchful, still listening, when she awoke in +the early morning. She came to open the door for him, and in a moment he +was gone. His feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth as he sped in the +direction of the Sun Rock. Across the plain he could see the cap of it +already painted with a golden glow. + +He came to the narrow winding trail, and wormed his way up it swiftly. + +Gray Wolf was not at the top to greet him. But he could smell her, and +the scent of that other thing was strong in the air. His muscles +tightened; his legs grew tense. Deep down in his chest there began the +low rumble of a growl. He knew now what that strange thing was that had +haunted him, and made him uneasy. It was _life_. Something that lived +and breathed had invaded the home which he and Gray Wolf had chosen. He +bared his long fangs, and a snarl of defiance drew back his lips. +Stiff-legged, prepared to spring, his neck and head reaching out, he +approached the two rocks between which Gray Wolf had crept the night +before. She was still there. And with her was _something else_. After a +moment the tenseness left Kazan's body. His bristling crest drooped +until it lay flat. His ears shot forward, and he put his head and +shoulders between the two rocks, and whined softly. And Gray Wolf +whined. Slowly Kazan backed out, and faced the rising sun. Then he lay +down, so that his body shielded I the entrance to the chamber between +the rocks. + +Gray Wolf was a mother. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + +All that day Kazan guarded the top of the Sun Rock. Fate, and the fear +and brutality of masters, had heretofore kept him from fatherhood, and +he was puzzled. Something told him now that he belonged to the Sun Rock, +and not to the cabin. The call that came to him from over the plain was +not so strong. At dusk Gray Wolf came out from her retreat, and slunk to +his side, whimpering, and nipped gently at his shaggy neck. It was the +old instinct of his fathers that made him respond by caressing Gray +Wolf's face with his tongue. Then Gray Wolf's jaws opened, and she +laughed in short panting breaths, as if she had been hard run. She was +happy, and as they heard a little snuffling sound from between the +rocks, Kazan wagged his tail, and Gray Wolf darted back to her young. + +The babyish cry and its effect upon Gray Wolf taught Kazan his first +lesson in fatherhood. Instinct again told him that Gray Wolf could not +go down to the hunt with him now--that she must stay at the top of the +Sun Rock. So when the moon rose he went down alone, and toward dawn +returned with a big white rabbit between his jaws. It was the wild in +him that made him do this, and Gray Wolf ate ravenously. Then he knew +that each night hereafter he must hunt for Gray Wolf--and the little +whimpering creatures hidden between the two rocks. + +The next day, and still the next, he did not go to the cabin, though he +heard the voices of both the man and the woman calling him. On the fifth +he went down, and Joan and the baby were so glad that the woman hugged +him, and the baby kicked and laughed and screamed at him, while the man +stood by cautiously, watching their demonstrations with a gleam of +disapprobation in his eyes. + +"I'm afraid of him," he told Joan for the hundredth time. "That's the +wolf-gleam in his eyes. He's of a treacherous breed. Sometimes I wish +we'd never brought him home." + +"If we hadn't--where would the baby--have gone?" Joan reminded him, a +little catch in her voice. + +"I had almost forgotten that," said her husband. "Kazan, you old devil, +I guess I love you, too." He laid his hand caressingly on Kazan's head. +"Wonder how he'll take to life down there?" he asked. "He has always +been used to the forests. It'll seem mighty strange." + +"And so--have I--always been used to the forests," whispered Joan. "I +guess that's why I love Kazan--next to you and the baby. Kazan--dear old +Kazan!" + +This time Kazan felt and scented more of that mysterious change in the +cabin. Joan and her husband talked incessantly of their plans when they +were together; and when the man was away Joan talked to the baby, and to +him. And each time that he came down to the cabin during the week that +followed, he grew more and more restless, until at last the man noticed +the change in him. + +"I believe he knows," he said to Joan one evening. "I believe he knows +we're preparing to leave." Then he added: "The river was rising again +to-day. It will be another week before we can start, perhaps longer." + +That same night the moon flooded the top of the Sun Rock with a golden +light, and out into the glow of it came Gray Wolf, with her three little +whelps toddling behind her. There was much about these soft little balls +that tumbled about him and snuggled in his tawny coat that reminded +Kazan of the baby. At times they made the same queer, soft little +sounds, and they staggered about on their four little legs just as +helplessly as baby Joan made her way about on two. He did not fondle +them, as Gray Wolf did, but the touch of them, and their babyish +whimperings, filled him with a kind of pleasure that he had never +experienced before. + +The moon was straight above them, and the night was almost as bright as +day, when he went down again to hunt for Gray Wolf. At the foot of the +rock a big white rabbit popped up ahead of him, and he gave chase. For +half a mile he pursued, until the wolf instinct in him rose over the +dog, and he gave up the futile race. A deer he might have overtaken, but +small game the wolf must hunt as the fox hunts it, and he began to slip +through the thickets slowly and as quietly as a shadow. He was a mile +from the Sun Rock when two quick leaps put Gray Wolf's supper between +his jaws. He trotted back slowly, dropping the big seven-pound snow-shoe +hare now and then to rest. + +When he came to the narrow trail that led to the top of the Sun Rock he +stopped. In that trail was the warm scent of strange feet. The rabbit +fell from his jaws. Every hair in his body was suddenly electrified into +life. What he scented was not the scent of a rabbit, a marten or a +porcupine. Fang and claw had climbed the path ahead of him. And then, +coming faintly to him from the top of the rock, he heard sounds which +sent him up with a terrible whining cry. When he reached the summit he +saw in the white moonlight a scene that stopped him for a single moment. +Close to the edge of the sheer fall to the rocks, fifty feet below, Gray +Wolf was engaged in a death-struggle with a huge gray lynx. She was +down--and under, and from her there came a sudden sharp terrible cry of +pain. + +Kazan flew across the rock. His attack was the swift silent assault of +the wolf, combined with the greater courage, the fury and the strategy +of the husky. Another husky would have died in that first attack. But +the lynx was not a dog or a wolf. It was "Mow-lee, the swift," as the +Sarcees had named it--the quickest creature in the wilderness. Kazan's +inch-long fangs should have sunk deep in its jugular. But in a +fractional part of a second the lynx had thrown itself back like a huge +soft ball, and Kazan's teeth buried themselves in the flesh of its neck +instead of the jugular. And Kazan was not now fighting the fangs of a +wolf in the pack, or of another husky. He was fighting claws--claws that +ripped like twenty razor-edged knives, and which even a jugular hold +could not stop. + +Once he had fought a lynx in a trap, and he had not forgotten the lesson +the battle had taught him. He fought to pull the lynx _down_, instead of +forcing it on its back, as he would have done with another dog or a +wolf. He knew that when on its back the fierce cat was most dangerous. +One rip of its powerful hindfeet could disembowel him. + +Behind him he heard Gray Wolf sobbing and crying, and he knew that she +was terribly hurt. He was filled with the rage and strength of two dogs, +and his teeth met through the flesh and hide of the cat's throat. But +the big lynx escaped death by half an inch. It would take a fresh grip +to reach the jugular, and suddenly Kazan made the deadly lunge. There +was an instant's freedom for the lynx, and in that moment it flung +itself back, and Kazan gripped at its throat--_on top_. + +The cat's claws ripped through his flesh, cutting open his side--a +little too high to kill. Another stroke and they would have cut to his +vitals. But they had struggled close to the edge of the rock wall, and +suddenly, without a snarl or a cry, they rolled over. It was fifty or +sixty feet to the rocks of the ledge below, and even as they pitched +over and over in the fall, Kazan's teeth sank deeper. They struck with +terrific force, Kazan uppermost. The shock sent him half a dozen feet +from his enemy. He was up like a flash, dizzy, snarling, on the +defensive. The lynx lay limp and motionless where it had fallen. Kazan +came nearer, still prepared, and sniffed cautiously. Something told him +that the fight was over. He turned and dragged himself slowly along the +ledge to the trail, and returned to Gray Wolf. + +Gray Wolf was no longer in the moonlight. Close to the two rocks lay the +limp and lifeless little bodies of the three pups. The lynx had torn +them to pieces. With a whine of grief Kazan approached the two boulders +and thrust his head between them. Gray Wolf was there, crying to herself +in that terrible sobbing way. He went in, and began to lick her bleeding +shoulders and head. All the rest of that night she whimpered with pain. +With dawn she dragged herself out to the lifeless little bodies on the +rock. + +And then Kazan saw the terrible work of the lynx. For Gray Wolf was +blind--not for a day or a night, but blind for all time. A gloom that no +sun could break had become her shroud. And perhaps again it was that +instinct of animal creation, which often is more wonderful than man's +reason, that told Kazan what had happened. For he knew now that she was +helpless--more helpless than the little creatures that had gamboled in +the moonlight a few hours before. He remained close beside her all +that day. + +[Illustration: Kazan gripped at its throat] + +Vainly that day did Joan call for Kazan. Her voice rose to the Sun Rock, +and Gray Wolf's head snuggled closer to Kazan, and Kazan's ears dropped +back, and he licked her wounds. Late in the afternoon Kazan left Gray +Wolf long enough to run to the bottom of the trail and bring up the +snow-shoe rabbit. Gray Wolf muzzled the fur and flesh, but would not +eat. Still a little later Kazan urged her to follow him to the trail. He +no longer wanted to stay at the top of the Sun Rock, and he no longer +wanted Gray Wolf to stay there. Step by step he drew her down the +winding path away from her dead puppies. She would move only when he was +very near her--so near that she could touch his scarred flank with her +nose. + +They came at last to the point in the trail where they had to leap down +a distance of three or four feet from the edge of a rock, and here Kazan +saw how utterly helpless Gray Wolf had become. She whined, and crouched +twenty times before she dared make the spring, and then she jumped +stiff-legged, and fell in a heap at Kazan's feet. After this Kazan did +not have to urge her so hard, for the fall impinged on her the fact that +she was safe only when her muzzle touched her mate's flank. She followed +him obediently when they reached the plain, trotting with her +foreshoulder to his hip. + +Kazan was heading for a thicket in the creek bottom half a mile away, +and a dozen times in that short distance Gray Wolf stumbled and fell. +And each time that she fell Kazan learned a little more of the +limitations of blindness. Once he sprang off in pursuit of a rabbit, but +he had not taken twenty leaps when he stopped and looked back. Gray Wolf +had not moved an inch. She stood motionless, sniffing the air--waiting +for him! For a full minute Kazan stood, also waiting. Then he returned +to her. Ever after this he returned to the point where he had left Gray +Wolf, knowing that he would find her there. + +All that day they remained in the thicket. In the afternoon he visited +the cabin. Joan and her husband were there, and both saw at once +Kazan's torn side and his lacerated head and shoulders. + +"Pretty near a finish fight for him," said the man, after he had +examined him. "It was either a lynx or a bear. Another wolf could not do +that." + +For half an hour Joan worked over him, talking to him all the time, and +fondling him with her soft hands. She bathed his wounds in warm water, +and then covered them with a healing salve, and Kazan was filled again +with that old restful desire to remain with her always, and never to go +back into the forests. For an hour she let him lie on the edge of her +dress, with his nose touching her foot, while she worked on baby things. +Then she rose to prepare supper, and Kazan got up--a little wearily--and +went to the door. Gray Wolf and the gloom of the night were calling him, +and he answered that call with a slouch of his shoulders and a drooping +head. Its old thrill was gone. He watched his chance, and went out +through the door. The moon had risen when he rejoined Gray Wolf. She +greeted his return with a low whine of joy, and muzzled him with her +blind face. In her helplessness she looked happier than Kazan in all his +strength. + +From now on, during the days that followed, it was a last great fight +between blind and faithful Gray Wolf and the woman. If Joan had known of +what lay in the thicket, if she could once have seen the poor creature +to whom Kazan was now all life--the sun, the stars, the moon, and +food--she would have helped Gray Wolf. But as it was she tried to lure +Kazan more and more to the cabin, and slowly she won. + +At last the great day came, eight days after the fight on the Sun Rock. +Kazan had taken Gray Wolf to a wooded point on the river two days +before, and there he had left her the preceding night when he went to +the cabin. This time a stout babiche thong was tied to the collar round +his neck, and he was fastened to a staple in the log wall. Joan and her +husband were up before it was light next day. The sun was just rising +when they all went out, the man carrying the baby, and Joan leading him. +Joan turned and locked the cabin door, and Kazan heard a sob in her +throat as they followed the man down to the river. The big canoe was +packed and waiting. Joan got in first, with the baby. Then, still +holding the babiche thong, she drew Kazan up close to her, so that he +lay with his weight against her. + +The sun fell warmly on Kazan's back as they shoved off, and he closed +his eyes, and rested his head on Joan's lap. Her hand fell softly on his +shoulder. He heard again that sound which the man could not hear, the +broken sob in her throat, as the canoe moved slowly down to the wooded +point. + +Joan waved her hand back at the cabin, just disappearing behind the +trees. + +"Good-by!" she cried sadly. "Good-by--" And then she buried her face +close down to Kazan and the baby, and sobbed. + +The man stopped paddling. + +"You're not sorry--Joan?" he asked. + +They were drifting past the point now, and the scent of Gray Wolf came +to Kazan's nostrils, rousing him, and bringing a low whine from his +throat. + +"You're not sorry--we're going?" Joan shook her head. + +"No," she replied. "Only I've--always lived here--in the forests--and +they're--home!" + +The point with its white finger of sand, was behind them now. And Kazan +was standing rigid, facing it. The man called to him, and Joan lifted +her head. She, too, saw the point, and suddenly the babiche leash +slipped from her fingers, and a strange light leaped into her blue eyes +as she saw what stood at the end of that white tip of sand. It was Gray +Wolf. Her blind eyes were turned toward Kazan. At last Gray Wolf, the +faithful, understood. Scent told her what her eyes could not see. Kazan +and the man-smell were together. And they were going--going--going-- + +"Look!" whispered Joan. + +The man turned. Gray Wolf's forefeet were in the water. And now, as the +canoe drifted farther and farther away, she settled back on her +haunches, raised her head to the sun which she could not see and gave +her last long wailing cry for Kazan. + +The canoe lurched. A tawny body shot through the air--and Kazan was +gone. + +The man reached forward for his rifle. Joan's hand stopped him. Her +face was white. + +"Let him go back to her! Let him go--let him go!" she cried. "It is his +place--with her." + +And Kazan reaching the shore, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and +looked for the last time toward the woman. The canoe was drifting slowly +around the first bend. A moment more and it had disappeared. Gray Wolf +had won. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DAYS OF FIRE + + +From the night of the terrible fight with the big gray lynx on the top +of the Sun Rock, Kazan remembered less and less vividly the old days +when he had been a sledge-dog, and the leader of a pack. He would never +quite forget them, and always there would stand out certain memories +from among the rest, like fires cutting the blackness of night. But as +man dates events from his birth, his marriage, his freedom from a +bondage, or some foundation-step in his career, so all things seemed to +Kazan to begin with two tragedies which had followed one fast upon the +other after the birth of Gray Wolf's pups. + +The first was the fight on the Sun Rock, when the big gray lynx had +blinded his beautiful wolf mate for all time, and had torn her pups into +pieces. He in turn had killed the lynx. But Gray Wolf was still blind. +Vengeance had not been able to give her sight. She could no longer hunt +with him, as they had hunted with the wild wolf-packs out on the plain, +and in the dark forests. So at thought of that night he always snarled, +and his lips curled back to reveal his inch-long fangs. + +The other tragedy was the going of Joan, her baby and her husband. +Something more infallible than reason told Kazan that they would not +come back. Brightest of all the pictures that remained with him was that +of the sunny morning when the woman and the baby he loved, and the man +he endured because of them, had gone away in the canoe, and often he +would go to the point, and gaze longingly down-stream, where he had +leaped from the canoe to return to his blind mate. + +So Kazan's life seemed now to be made up chiefly of three things: his +hatred of everything that bore the scent or mark of the lynx, his +grieving for Joan and the baby, and Gray Wolf. It was natural that the +strongest passion in him should be his hatred of the lynx, for not only +Gray Wolf's blindness and the death of the pups, but even the loss of +the woman and the baby he laid to that fatal struggle on the Sun Rock. +From that hour he became the deadliest enemy of the lynx tribe. Wherever +he struck the scent of the big gray cat he was turned into a snarling +demon, and his hatred grew day by day, as he became more completely a +part of the wild. + +He found that Gray Wolf was more necessary to him now than she had ever +been since the day she had left the wolf-pack for him. He was +three-quarters dog, and the dog-part of him demanded companionship. +There was only Gray Wolf to give him that now. They were alone. +Civilization was four hundred miles south of them. The nearest Hudson's +Bay post was sixty miles to the west. Often, in the days of the woman +and the baby, Gray Wolf had spent her nights alone out in the forest, +waiting and calling for Kazan. Now it was Kazan who was lonely and +uneasy when he was away from her side. + +In her blindness Gray Wolf could no longer hunt with her mate. But +gradually a new code of understanding grew up between them, and through +her blindness they learned many things that they had not known before. +By early summer Gray Wolf could travel with Kazan, if he did not move +too swiftly. She ran at his flank, with her shoulder or muzzle touching +him, and Kazan learned not to leap, but to trot. Very quickly he found +that he must choose the easiest trails for Gray Wolf's feet. When they +came to a space to be bridged by a leap, he would muzzle Gray Wolf and +whine, and she would stand with ears alert--listening. Then Kazan would +take the leap, and she understood the distance she had to cover. She +always over-leaped, which was a good fault. + +In another way, and one that was destined to serve them many times in +the future, she became of greater help than ever to Kazan. Scent and +hearing entirely took the place of sight. Each day developed these +senses more and more, and at the same time there developed between them +the dumb language whereby she could impress upon Kazan what she had +discovered by scent or sound. It became a curious habit of Kazan's +always to look at Gray Wolf when they stopped to listen, or to scent the +air. + +After the fight on the Sun Rock, Kazan had taken his blind mate to a +thick clump of spruce and balsam in the river-bottom, where they +remained until early summer. Every day for weeks Kazan went to the cabin +where Joan and the baby--and the man--had been. For a long time he went +hopefully, looking each day or night to see some sign of life there. But +the door was never open. The boards and saplings at the windows always +remained. Never a spiral of smoke rose from the clay chimney. Grass and +vines began to grow in the path. And fainter and fainter grew that scent +which Kazan could still find about it--the scent of man, of the woman, +the baby. + +One day he found a little baby moccasin under one of the closed windows. +It was old, and worn out, and blackened by snow and rain, but he lay +down beside it, and remained there for a long time, while the baby +Joan--a thousand miles away--was playing with the strange toys of +civilization. Then he returned to Gray Wolf among the spruce and balsam. + +The cabin was the one place to which Gray Wolf would not follow him. At +all other times she was at his side. Now that she had become accustomed +to blindness, she even accompanied him on his hunts, until he struck +game, and began the chase. Then she would wait for him. Kazan usually +hunted the big snow-shoe rabbits. But one night he ran down and killed a +young doe. The kill was too heavy to drag to Gray Wolf, so he returned +to where she was waiting for him and guided her to the feast. In many +ways they became more and more inseparable as the summer lengthened, +until at last, through all the wilderness, their footprints were always +two by two and never one by one. + +Then came the great fire. + +Gray Wolf caught the scent of it when it was still two days to the west. +The sun that night went down in a lurid cloud. The moon, drifting into +the west, became blood red. When it dropped behind the wilderness in +this manner, the Indians called it the Bleeding Moon, and the air was +filled with omens. + +All the next day Gray Wolf was nervous, and toward noon Kazan caught in +the air the warning that she had sensed many hours ahead of him. +Steadily the scent grew stronger, and by the middle of the afternoon the +sun was veiled by a film of smoke. + +The flight of the wild things from the triangle of forest between the +junctions of the Pipestone and Cree Rivers would have begun then, but +the wind shifted. It was a fatal shift. The fire was raging from the +west and south. Then the wind swept straight eastward, carrying the +smoke with it, and during this breathing spell all the wild creatures in +the triangle between the two rivers waited. This gave the fire time to +sweep completely, across the base of the forest triangle, cutting off +the last trails of escape. + +Then the wind shifted again, and the fire swept north. The head of the +triangle became a death-trap. All through the night the southern sky was +filled with a lurid glow, and by morning the heat and smoke and ash were +suffocating. + +Panic-striken, Kazan searched vainly for a means of escape. Not for an +instant did he leave Gray Wolf. It would have been easy for him to swim +across either of the two streams, for he was three-quarters dog. But at +the first touch of water on her paws, Gray Wolf drew back, shrinking. +Like all her breed, she would face fire and death before water. Kazan +urged. A dozen times he leaped in, and swam out into the stream. But +Gray Wolf would come no farther than she could wade. + +They could hear the distant murmuring roar of the fire now. Ahead of it +came the wild things. Moose, caribou and deer plunged into the water of +the streams and swam to the safety of the opposite side. Out upon a +white finger of sand lumbered a big black bear with two cubs, and even +the cubs took to the water, and swam across easily. Kazan watched them, +and whined to Gray Wolf. + +And then out upon that white finger of sand came other things that +dreaded the water as Gray Wolf dreaded it: a big fat porcupine, a sleek +little marten, a fisher-cat that sniffed the air and wailed like a +child. Those things that could not or would not swim outnumbered the +others three to one. Hundreds of little ermine scurried along the shore +like rats, their squeaking little voices sounding incessantly; foxes ran +swiftly along the banks, seeking a tree or a windfall that might bridge +the water for them; the lynx snarled and faced the fire; and Gray +Wolf's own tribe--the wolves--dared take no deeper step than she. + +Dripping and panting, and half choked by heat and smoke, Kazan came to +Gray Wolf's side. There was but one refuge left near them, and that was +the sand-bar. It reached out for fifty feet into the stream. Quickly he +led his blind mate toward it. As they came through the low bush to the +river-bed, something stopped them both. To their nostrils had come the +scent of a deadlier enemy than fire. A lynx had taken possession of the +sand-bar, and was crouching at the end of it. Three porcupines had +dragged themselves into the edge of the water, and lay there like balls, +their quills alert and quivering. A fisher-cat was snarling at the lynx. +And the lynx, with ears laid back, watched Kazan and Gray Wolf as they +began the invasion of the sand-bar. + +Faithful Gray Wolf was full of fight, and she sprang shoulder to +shoulder with Kazan, her fangs bared. With an angry snap, Kazan drove +her back, and she stood quivering and whining while he advanced. +Light-footed, his pointed ears forward, no menace or threat in his +attitude, he advanced. It was the deadly advance of the husky trained +in battle, skilled in the art of killing. A man from civilization would +have said that the dog was approaching the lynx with friendly +intentions. But the lynx understood. It was the old feud of many +generations--made deadlier now by Kazan's memory of that night at the +top of the Sun Rock. + +Instinct told the fisher-cat what was coming, and it crouched low and +flat; the porcupines, scolding like little children at the presence of +enemies and the thickening clouds of smoke, thrust their quills still +more erect. The lynx lay on its belly, like a cat, its hindquarters +twitching, and gathered for the spring. Kazan's feet seemed scarcely to +touch the sand as he circled lightly around it. The lynx pivoted as he +circled, and then it shot in a round snarling ball over the eight feet +of space that separated them. + +Kazan did not leap aside. He made no effort to escape the attack, but +met it fairly with the full force of his shoulders, as sledge-dog meets +sledge-dog. He was ten pounds heavier than the lynx, and for a moment +the big loose-jointed cat with its twenty knife-like claws was thrown +on its side. Like a flash Kazan took advantage of the moment, and drove +for the back of the cat's neck. + +In that same moment blind Gray Wolf leaped in with a snarling cry, and +fighting under Kazan's belly, she fastened her jaws in one of the cat's +hindlegs. The bone snapped. The lynx, twice outweighed, leaped backward, +dragging both Kazan and Gray Wolf. It fell back down on one of the +porcupines, and a hundred quills drove into its body. Another leap and +it was free--fleeing into the face of the smoke. Kazan did not pursue. +Gray Wolf came to his side and licked his neck, where fresh blood was +crimsoning his tawny hide. The fisher-cat lay as if dead, watching them +with fierce little black eyes. The porcupines continued to chatter, as +if begging for mercy. And then a thick black suffocating pall of smoke +drove low over the sand-bar and with it came air that was furnace-hot. + +At the uttermost end of the sand-bar Kazan and Gray Wolf rolled +themselves into balls and thrust their heads under their bodies. The +fire was very near now. The roar of it was like that of a great +cataract, with now and then a louder crash of falling trees. The air +was filled with ash and burning sparks, and twice Kazan drew forth his +head to snap at blazing embers that fell upon and seared him like hot +irons. + +Close along the edge of the stream grew thick green bush, and when the +fire reached this, it burned more slowly, and the heat grew less. Still, +it was a long time before Kazan and Gray Wolf could draw forth their +heads and breathe more freely. Then they found that the finger of sand +reaching out into the river had saved them. Everywhere in that triangle +between the two rivers the world had turned black, and was hot +underfoot. + +The smoke cleared away. The wind changed again, and swung down cool and +fresh from the west and north. The fisher-cat was the first to move +cautiously back to the forests that had been, but the porcupines were +still rolled into balls when Gray Wolf and Kazan left the sand-bar. They +began to travel up-stream, and before night came, their feet were sore +from hot ash and burning embers. + +The moon was strange and foreboding that night, like a spatter of blood +in the sky, and through the long silent hours there was not even the +hoot of an owl to give a sign that life still existed where yesterday +had been a paradise of wild things. Kazan knew that there was nothing to +hunt, and they continued to travel all that night. With dawn they struck +a narrow swamp along the edge of the stream. Here beavers had built a +dam, and they were able to cross over into the green country on the +opposite side. For another day and another night they traveled westward, +and this brought them into the thick country of swamp and timber along +the Waterfound. + +And as Kazan and Gray Wolf came from the west, there came from the +Hudson's Bay post to the east a slim dark-faced French half-breed by the +name of Henri Loti, the most famous lynx hunter in all the Hudson's Bay +country. He was prospecting for "signs," and he found them in abundance +along the Waterfound. It was a game paradise, and the snow-shoe rabbit +abounded in thousands. As a consequence, the lynxes were thick, and +Henri built his trapping shack, and then returned to the post to wait +until the first snows fell, when he would come back with his team, +supplies and traps. + +And up from the south, at this same time, there was slowly working his +way by canoe and trail a young university zoologist who was gathering +material for a book on _The Reasoning of the Wild_. His name was Paul +Weyman, and he had made arrangements to spend a part of the winter with +Henri Loti, the half-breed. He brought with him plenty of paper, a +camera and the photograph of a girl. His only weapon was a pocket-knife. + +And meanwhile Kazan and Gray Wolf found the home they were seeking in a +thick swamp five or six miles from the cabin that Henri Loti had built. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + +It was January when a guide from the post brought Paul Weyman to Henri +Loti's cabin on the Waterfound. He was a man of thirty-two or three, +full of the red-blooded life that made Henri like him at once. If this +had not been the case, the first few days in the cabin might have been +unpleasant, for Henri was in bad humor. He told Weyman about it their +first night, as they were smoking pipes alongside the redly glowing box +stove. + +"It is damn strange," said Henri. "I have lost seven lynx in the traps, +torn to pieces like they were no more than rabbits that the foxes had +killed. No thing--not even bear--have ever tackled lynx in a trap +before. It is the first time I ever see it. And they are torn up so bad +they are not worth one half dollar at the post. Seven!--that is over two +hundred dollar I have lost! There are two wolves who do it. Two--I know +it by the tracks--always two--an'--never one. They follow my trap-line +an' eat the rabbits I catch. They leave the fisher-cat, an' the mink, +an' the ermine, an' the marten; but the lynx--_sacré_ an' damn!--they +jump on him an' pull the fur from him like you pull the wild cotton +balls from the burn-bush! I have tried strychnine in deer fat, an' I +have set traps and deadfalls, but I can not catch them. They will drive +me out unless I get them, for I have taken only five good lynx, an' they +have destroyed seven." + +This roused Weyman. He was one of that growing number of thoughtful men +who believe that man's egoism, as a race, blinds him to many of the more +wonderful facts of creation. He had thrown down the gantlet, and with a +logic that had gained him a nation-wide hearing, to those who believed +that man was the only living creature who could reason, and that common +sense and cleverness when displayed by any other breathing thing were +merely instinct. The facts behind Henri's tale of woe struck him as +important, and until midnight they talked about the two strange wolves. + +"There is one big wolf an' one smaller," said Henri. "An' it is always +the big wolf who goes in an' fights the lynx. I see that by the snow. +While he's fighting, the smaller wolf makes many tracks in the snow just +out of reach, an' then when the lynx is down, or dead, it jumps in an' +helps tear it into pieces. All that I know by the snow. Only once have I +seen where the smaller one went in an' fought with the other, an' then +there was blood all about that was not lynx blood; I trailed the devils +a mile by the dripping." + +During the two weeks that followed, Weyman found much to add to the +material of his book. Not a day passed that somewhere along Henri's +trap-line they did not see the trails of the two wolves, and Weyman +observed that--as Henri had told him--the footprints were always two by +two, and never one by one. On the third day they came to a trap that had +held a lynx, and at sight of what remained Henri cursed in both French +and English until he was purple in the face. The lynx had been torn +until its pelt was practically worthless. + +Weyman saw where the smaller wolf had waited on its haunches, while its +companion had killed the lynx. He did not tell Henri all he thought. But +the days that followed convinced him more and more that he had found the +most dramatic exemplification of his theory. Back of this mysterious +tragedy of the trap-line there was a _reason_. + +Why did the two wolves not destroy the fisher-cat, the ermine and the +marten? Why was their feud with the lynx alone? + +Weyman was strangely thrilled. He was a lover of wild things, and for +that reason he never carried a gun. And when he saw Henri placing +poison-baits for the two marauders, he shuddered, and when, day after +day, he saw that these poison-baits were untouched, he rejoiced. +Something in his own nature went out in sympathy to the heroic outlaw of +the trap-line who never failed to give battle to the lynx. Nights in the +cabin he wrote down his thoughts and discoveries of the day. One night +he turned suddenly on Henri. + +"Henri, doesn't it ever make you sorry to kill so many wild things?" he +asked. + +Henri stared and shook his head. + +"I kill t'ousand an' t'ousand," he said. "I kill t'ousand more." + +"And there are twenty thousand others just like you in this northern +quarter of the continent--all killing, killing for hundreds of years +back, and yet you can't kill out wild life. The war of Man and the +Beast, you might call it. And, if you could return five hundred years +from now, Henri, you'd still find wild life here. Nearly all the rest of +the world is changing, but you can't change these almost impenetrable +thousands of square miles of ridges and swamps and forests. The +railroads won't come here, and I, for one, thank God for that. Take all +the great prairies to the west, for instance. Why, the old buffalo +trails are still there, plain as day--and yet, towns and cities are +growing up everywhere. Did you ever hear of North Battleford?" + +"Is she near Montreal or Quebec?" Henri asked. + +Weyman smiled, and drew a photograph from his pocket. It was the picture +of a girl. + +"No. It's far to the west, in Saskatchewan. Seven years ago I used to +go up there every year, to shoot prairie chickens, coyotes and elk. +There wasn't any North Battleford then--just the glorious prairie, +hundreds and hundreds of square miles of it. There was a single shack on +the Saskatchewan River, where North Battleford now stands, and I used to +stay there. In that shack there was a little girl, twelve years old. We +used to go out hunting together--for I used to kill things in those +days. And the little girl would cry sometimes when I killed, and I'd +laugh at her. + +"Then a railroad came, and then another, and they joined near the shack, +and all at once a town sprang up. Seven years ago there was only the +shack there, Henri. Two years ago there were eighteen hundred people. +This year, when I came through, there were five thousand, and two years +from now there'll be ten thousand. + +"On the ground where that shack stood are three banks, with a capital of +forty million dollars; you can see the glow of the electric lights of +the city twenty miles away. It has a hundred-thousand dollar college, a +high school, the provincial asylum, a fire department, two clubs, a +board of trade, and it's going to have a street-car line within two +years. Think of that--all where the coyotes howled a few years ago! + +"People are coming in so fast that they can't keep a census. Five years +from now there'll be a city of twenty thousand where the old shack +stood. And the little girl in that shack, Henri--she's a young lady now, +and her people are--well, rich. I don't care about that. The chief thing +is that she is going to marry me in the spring. Because of her I stopped +killing things when she was only sixteen. The last thing I killed was a +prairie wolf, and it had young. Eileen kept the little puppy. She's got +it now--tamed. That's why above all other wild things I love the wolves. +And I hope these two leave your trap-line safe." + +Henri was staring at him. Weyman gave him the picture. It was of a +sweet-faced girl, with deep pure eyes, and there came a twitch at the +corners of Henri's mouth as he looked at it. + +"My Iowaka died t'ree year ago," he said. "She too loved the wild +thing. But them wolf--damn! They drive me out if I can not kill them!" +He put fresh fuel into the stove, and prepared for bed. + +One day the big idea came to Henri. + +Weyman was with him when they struck fresh signs of lynx. There was a +great windfall ten or fifteen feet high, and in one place the logs had +formed a sort of cavern, with almost solid walls on three sides. The +snow was beaten down by tracks, and the fur of rabbit was scattered +about. Henri was jubilant. + +"We got heem--sure!" he said. + +He built the bait-house, set a trap and looked about him shrewdly. Then +he explained his scheme to Weyman. If the lynx was caught, and the two +wolves came to destroy it, the fight would take place in that shelter +under the windfall, and the marauders would have to pass through the +opening. So Henri set five smaller traps, concealing them skilfully +under leaves and moss and snow, and all were far enough away from the +bait-house so that the trapped lynx could not spring them in his +struggles. + +"When they fight, wolf jump this way an' that--an' sure get in," said +Henri. "He miss one, two, t'ree--but he sure get in trap somewhere." + +That same morning a light snow fell, making the work more complete, for +it covered up all footprints and buried the telltale scent of man. That +night Kazan and Gray Wolf passed within a hundred feet of the windfall, +and Gray Wolf's keen scent detected something strange and disquieting in +the air. She informed Kazan by pressing her shoulder against his, and +they swung off at right angles, keeping to windward of the trap-line. + +For two days and three cold starlit nights nothing happened at the +windfall. Henri understood, and explained to Weyman. The lynx was a +hunter, like himself, and also had its hunt-line, which it covered about +once a week. On the fifth night the lynx returned, went to the windfall, +was lured straight to the bait, and the sharp-toothed steel trap closed +relentlessly over its right hindfoot. Kazan and Gray Wolf were traveling +a quarter of a mile deeper in the forest when they heard the clanking of +the steel chain as the lynx fought; to free itself. Ten minutes later +they stood in the door of the windfall cavern. + +It was a white clear night, so filled with brilliant stars that Henri +himself could have hunted by the light of them. The lynx had exhausted +itself, and lay crouching on its belly as Kazan and Gray Wolf appeared. +As usual, Gray Wolf held back while Kazan began the battle. In the first +or second of these fights on the trap-line, Kazan would probably have +been disemboweled or had his jugular vein cut open, had the fierce cats +been free. They were more than his match in open fight, though the +biggest of them fell ten pounds under his weight. Chance had saved him +on the Sun Rock. Gray Wolf and the porcupine had both added to the +defeat of the lynx on the sand-bar. And along Henri's hunting line it +was the trap that was his ally. Even with his enemy thus shackled he +took big chances. And he took bigger chances than ever with the lynx +under the windfall. + +The cat was an old warrior, six or seven years old. His claws were an +inch and a quarter long, and curved like simitars. His forefeet and his +left hindfoot were free, and as Kazan advanced, he drew back, so that +the trap-chain was slack under his body. Here Kazan could not follow his +old tactics of circling about his trapped foe, until it had become +tangled in the chain, or had so shortened and twisted it that there was +no chance for a leap. He had to attack face to face, and suddenly he +lunged in. They met shoulder to shoulder. Kazan's fangs snapped at the +other's throat, and missed. Before he could strike again, the lynx flung +out its free hindfoot, and even Gray Wolf heard the ripping sound that +it made. With a snarl Kazan was flung back, his shoulder torn to the +bone. + +Then it was that one of Henri's hidden traps saved him from a second +attack--and death. Steel jaws snapped over one of his forefeet, and when +he leaped, the chain stopped him. Once or twice before, blind Gray Wolf +had leaped in, when she knew that Kazan was in great danger. For an +instant she forgot her caution now, and as she heard Kazan's snarl of +pain, she sprang in under the windfall. Five traps Henri had hidden in +the space in front of the bait-house, and Gray Wolf's feet found two of +these. She fell on her side, snapping and snarling. In his struggles +Kazan sprung the remaining two traps. One of them missed. The fifth, and +last, caught him by a hindfoot. + +This was a little past midnight. From then until morning the earth and +snow under the windfall were torn up by the struggles of the wolf, the +dog and the lynx to regain their freedom. And when morning came, all +three were exhausted, and lay on their sides, panting and with bleeding +jaws, waiting for the coming of man--and death. + +Henri and Weyman were out early. When they struck off the main line +toward the windfall, Henri pointed to the tracks of Kazan and Gray Wolf, +and his dark face lighted up with pleasure and excitement. When they +reached the shelter under the mass of fallen timber, both stood +speechless for a moment, astounded by what they saw. Even Henri had seen +nothing like this before--two wolves and a lynx, all in traps, and +almost within reach of one another's fangs. But surprise could not long +delay the business of Henri's hunter's instinct. The wolves lay first in +his path, and he was raising his rifle to put a steel-capped bullet +through the base of Kazan's brain, when Weyman caught him eagerly by the +arm. Weyman was staring. His fingers dug into Henri's flesh. His eyes +had caught a glimpse of the steel-studded collar about Kazan's neck. + +"Wait!" he cried. "It's not a wolf. It's a dog!" + +Henri lowered his rifle, staring at the collar. Weyman's eyes shot to +Gray Wolf. She was facing them, snarling, her white fangs bared to the +foes she could not see. Her blind eyes were closed. Where there should +have been eyes there was only hair, and an exclamation broke from +Weyman's lips. + +"Look!" he commanded of Henri. "What in the name of heaven--" + +"One is dog--wild dog that has run to the wolves," said Henri. "And the +other is--wolf." + +"And _blind_!" gasped Weyman. + +"_Oui_, blind, m'sieur," added Henri, falling partly into French in his +amazement. He was raising his rifle again. Weyman seized it firmly. + +[Illustration: "Wait! it's not a wolf!"] + +"Don't kill them, Henri," he said. "Give them to me--alive. Figure up +the value of the lynx they have destroyed, and add to that the wolf +bounty, and I will pay. Alive, they are worth to me a great deal. My +God, a dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" + +He still held Henri's rifle, and Henri was staring at him, as if he did +not yet quite understand. + +Weyman continued speaking, his eyes and face blazing. + +"A dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" he repeated. "It is wonderful, +Henri. Down there, they will say I have gone beyond _reason_, when my +book comes out. But I shall have proof. I shall take twenty photographs +here, before you kill the lynx. I shall keep the dog and the wolf alive. +And I shall pay you, Henri, a hundred dollars apiece for the two. May I +have them?" + +Henri nodded. He held his rifle in readiness, while Weyman unpacked his +camera and got to work. Snarling fangs greeted the click of the +camera-shutter--the fangs of wolf and lynx. But Kazan lay cringing, not +through fear, but because he still recognized the mastery of man. And +when he had finished with his pictures, Weyman approached almost within +reach of him, and spoke even more kindly to him than the man who had +lived back in the deserted cabin. + +Henri shot the lynx, and when Kazan understood this, he tore at the end +of his trap-chains and snarled at the writhing body of his forest enemy. +By means of a pole and a babiche noose, Kazan was brought out from under +the windfall and taken to Henri's cabin. The two men then returned with +a thick sack and more babiche, and blind Gray Wolf, still fettered by +the traps, was made prisoner. All the rest of that day Weyman and Henri +worked to build a stout cage of saplings, and when it was finished, the +two prisoners were placed in it. + +Before the dog was put in with Gray Wolf, Weyman closely examined the +worn and tooth-marked collar about his neck. + +On the brass plate he found engraved the one word, "Kazan," and with a +strange thrill made note of it in his diary. + +After this Weyman often remained at the cabin when Henri went out on the +trap-line. After the second day he dared to put his hand between the +sapling bars and touch Kazan, and the next day Kazan accepted a piece of +raw moose meat from his hand. But at his approach, Gray Wolf would +always hide under the pile of balsam in the corner of their prison. The +instinct of generations and perhaps of centuries had taught her that man +was her deadliest enemy. And yet, this man did not hurt her, and Kazan +was not afraid of him. She was frightened at first; then puzzled, and a +growing curiosity followed that. Occasionally, after the third day, she +would thrust her blind face out of the balsam and sniff the air when +Weyman was at the cage, making friends with Kazan. But she would not +eat. Weyman noted that, and each day he tempted her with the choicest +morsels of deer and moose fat. Five days--six--seven passed, and she had +not taken a mouthful. Weyman could count her ribs. + +"She die," Henri told him on the seventh night. "She starve before she +eat in that cage. She want the forest, the wild kill, the fresh blood. +She two--t'ree year old--too old to make civilize." + +Henri went to bed at the usual hour, but Weyman was troubled, and sat +up late. He wrote a long letter to the sweet-faced girl at North +Battleford, and then he turned out the light, and painted visions of her +in the red glow of the fire. He saw her again for that first time when +he camped in the little shack where the fifth city of Saskatchewan now +stood--with her blue eyes, the big shining braid, and the fresh glow of +the prairies in her cheeks. She had hated him--yes, actually hated him, +because he loved to kill. He laughed softly as he thought of that. She +had changed him--wonderfully. + +He rose, opened the door, softly, and went out. Instinctively his eyes +turned westward. The sky was a blaze of stars. In their light he could +see the cage, and he stood, watching and listening. A sound came to him. +It was Gray Wolf gnawing at the sapling bars of her prison. A moment +later there came a low sobbing whine, and he knew that it was Kazan +crying for his freedom. + +Leaning against the side of the cabin was an ax. Weyman seized it, and +his lips smiled silently. He was thrilled by a strange happiness, and a +thousand miles away in that city on the Saskatchewan he could feel +another spirit rejoicing with him. He moved toward the cage. A dozen +blows, and two of the sapling bars were knocked out. Then Weyman drew +back. Gray Wolf found the opening first, and she slipped out into the +starlight like a shadow. But she did not flee. Out in the open space she +waited for Kazan, and for a moment the two stood there, looking at the +cabin. Then they set off into freedom, Gray Wolf's shoulder at Kazan's +flank. + +Weyman breathed deeply. + +"Two by two--always two by two, until death finds one of them," he +whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RED DEATH + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf wandered northward into the Fond du Lac country, and +were there when Jacques, a Hudson Bay Company's runner, came up to the +post from the south with the first authentic news of the dread +plague--the smallpox. For weeks there had been rumors on all sides. And +rumor grew into rumor. From the east, the south and the west they +multiplied, until on all sides the Paul Reveres of the wilderness were +carrying word that _La Mort Rouge_--the Red Death--was at their heels, +and the chill of a great fear swept like a shivering wind from the edge +of civilization to the bay. Nineteen years before these same rumors had +come up from the south, and the Red Terror had followed. The horror of +it still remained with the forest people, for a thousand unmarked +graves, shunned like a pestilence, and scattered from the lower waters +of James Bay to the lake country of the Athabasca, gave evidence of the +toll it demanded. + +Now and then in their wanderings Kazan and Gray Wolf had come upon the +little mounds that covered the dead. Instinct--something that was +infinitely beyond the comprehension of man--made them _feel_ the +presence of death about them, perhaps smell it in the air. Gray Wolf's +wild blood and her blindness gave her an immense advantage over Kazan +when it came to detecting those mysteries of the air and the earth which +the eyes were not made to see. Each day that had followed that terrible +moonlit night on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded her, had added +to the infallibility of her two chief senses--hearing and scent. And it +was she who discovered the presence of the plague first, just as she had +scented the great forest fire hours before Kazan had found it in the +air. + +Kazan had lured her back to a trap-line. The trail they found was old. +It had not been traveled for many days. In a trap they found a rabbit, +but it had been dead a long time. In another there was the carcass of a +fox, torn into bits by the owls. Most of the traps were sprung. Others +were covered with snow. Kazan, with his three-quarters strain of dog, +ran over the trail from trap to trap, intent only on something +alive--meat to devour. Gray Wolf, in her blindness, scented _death_. It +shivered in the tree-tops above her. She found it in every trap-house +they came to--death--_man death_. It grew stronger and stronger, and +she whined, and nipped Kazan's flank. And Kazan went on. Gray Wolf +followed him to the edge of the clearing in which Loti's cabin stood, +and then she sat back on her haunches, raised her blind face to the gray +sky, and gave a long and wailing cry. In that moment the bristles began +to stand up along Kazan's spine. Once, long ago, he had howled before +the tepee of a master who was newly dead, and he settled back on his +haunches, and gave the death-cry with Gray Wolf. He, too, scented it +now. Death was in the cabin, and over the cabin there stood a sapling +pole, and at the end of the pole there fluttered a strip of red cotton +rag--the warning flag of the plague from Athabasca to the bay. This man, +like a hundred other heroes of the North, had run up the warning before +he laid himself down to die. And that same night, in the cold light of +the moon, Kazan and Gray Wolf swung northward into the country of the +Fond du Lac. + +There preceded them a messenger from the post on Reindeer Lake, who was +passing up the warning that had come from Nelson House and the country +to the southeast. + +"There's smallpox on the Nelson," the messenger informed Williams, at +Fond du Lac, "and it has struck the Crees on Wollaston Lake. God only +knows what it is doing to the Bay Indians, but we hear it is wiping out +the Chippewas between the Albany and the Churchill." He left the same +day with his winded dogs. "I'm off to carry word to the Reveillon people +to the west," he explained. + +Three days later, word came from Churchill that all of the company's +servants and his majesty's subjects west of the bay should prepare +themselves for the coming of the Red Terror. Williams' thin face turned +as white as the paper he held, as he read the words of the Churchill +factor. + +"It means dig graves," he said. "That's the only preparation we can +make." + +He read the paper aloud to the men at Fond du Lac, and every available +man was detailed to spread the warning throughout the post's territory. +There was a quick harnessing of dogs, and on each sledge that went out +was a roll of red cotton cloth--rolls that were ominous of death, lurid +signals of pestilence and horror, whose touch sent shuddering chills +through the men who were about to scatter them among the forest people. +Kazan and Gray Wolf struck the trail of one of these sledges on the Gray +Beaver, and followed it for half a mile. The next day, farther to the +west, they struck another, and on the fourth day still a third. The last +trail was fresh, and Gray Wolf drew back from it as if stung, her fangs +snarling. On the wind there came to them the pungent odor of smoke. They +cut at right angles to the trail, Gray Wolf leaping clear of the marks +in the snow, and climbed to the cap of a ridge. To windward of them, and +down in the plain, a cabin was burning. A team of huskies and a man were +disappearing in the spruce forest. Deep down in his throat Kazan gave a +rumbling whine. Gray Wolf stood as rigid as a rock. In the cabin a +plague-dead man was burning. It was the law of the North. And the +mystery of the funeral pyre came again to Kazan and Gray Wolf. This time +they did not howl, but slunk down into the farther plain, and did not +stop that day until they had buried themselves deep in a dry and +sheltered swamp ten miles to the north. + +After this they followed the days and weeks which marked the winter of +nineteen hundred and ten as one of the most terrible in all the history +of the Northland--a single month in which wild life as well as human +hung in the balance, and when cold, starvation and plague wrote a +chapter in the lives of the forest people which will not be forgotten +for generations to come. + +In the swamp Kazan and Gray Wolf found a home under a windfall. It was a +small comfortable nest, shut in entirely from the snow and wind. Gray +Wolf took possession of it immediately. She flattened herself out on her +belly, and panted to show Kazan her contentment and satisfaction. Nature +again kept Kazan close at her side. A vision came to him, unreal and +dream-like, of that wonderful night under the stars--ages and ages ago, +it seemed--when he had fought the leader of the wolf-pack, and young +Gray Wolf had crept to his side after his victory and had given herself +to him for mate. But this mating season there was no running after the +doe or the caribou, or mingling with the wild pack. They lived chiefly +on rabbit and spruce partridge, because of Gray Wolf's blindness. Kazan +could hunt those alone. The hair had now grown over Gray Wolf's +sightless eyes. She had ceased to grieve, to rub her eyes with her paws, +to whine for the sunlight, the golden moon and the stars. Slowly she +began to forget that she had ever seen those things. She could now run +more swiftly at Kazan's flank. Scent and hearing had become wonderfully +keen. She could wind a caribou two miles distant, and the presence of +man she could pick up at an even greater distance. On a still night she +had heard the splash of a trout half a mile away. And as these two +things--scent and hearing--became more and more developed in her, those +same senses became less active in Kazan. + +He began to depend upon Gray Wolf. She would point out the hiding-place +of a partridge fifty yards from their trail. In their hunts she became +the leader--until game was found. And as Kazan learned to trust to her +in the hunt, so he began just as instinctively to heed her warnings. If +Gray Wolf reasoned, it was to the effect that without Kazan she would +die. She had tried hard now and then to catch a partridge, or a rabbit, +but she had always failed. Kazan meant life to her. And--if she +reasoned--it was to make herself indispensable to her mate. Blindness +had made her different than she would otherwise have been. Again nature +promised motherhood to her. But she did not--as she would have done in +the open, and with sight--hold more and more aloof from Kazan as the +days passed. It was her habit, spring, summer and winter, to snuggle +close to Kazan and lie with her beautiful head resting on his neck or +back. If Kazan snarled at her she did not snap back, but slunk down as +though struck a blow. With her warm tongue she would lick away the ice +that froze to the long hair between Kazan's toes. For days after he had +run a sliver in his paw she nursed his foot. Blindness had made Kazan +absolutely necessary to her existence--and now, in a different way, she +became more and more necessary to Kazan. They were happy in their swamp +home. There was plenty of small game about them, and it was warm under +the windfall. Rarely did they go beyond the limits of the swamp to hunt. +Out on the more distant plains and the barren ridges they occasionally +heard the cry of the wolf-pack on the trail of meat, but it no longer +thrilled them with a desire to join in the chase. + +One day they struck farther than usual to the west. They left the swamp, +crossed a plain over which a fire had swept the preceding year, climbed +a ridge, and descended into a second plain. At the bottom Gray Wolf +stopped and sniffed the air. At these times Kazan always watched her, +waiting eagerly and nervously if the scent was too faint for him to +catch. But to-day he caught the edge of it, and he knew why Gray Wolf's +ears flattened, and her hindquarters drooped. The scent of game would +have made her rigid and alert. But it was not the game smell. It was +human, and Gray Wolf slunk behind Kazan and whined. For several minutes +they stood without moving or making a sound, and then Kazan led the way +on. Less than three hundred yards away they came to a thick clump of +scrub spruce, and almost ran into a snow-smothered tepee. It was +abandoned. Life and fire had not been there for a long time. But from +the tepee had come the man-smell. With legs rigid and his spine +quivering Kazan approached the opening to the tepee. He looked in. In +the middle of the tepee, lying on the charred embers of a fire, lay a +ragged blanket--and in the blanket was wrapped the body of a little +Indian child. Kazan could see the tiny moccasined feet. But so long had +death been there that he could scarcely smell the presence of it. He +drew back, and saw Gray Wolf cautiously nosing about a long and +peculiarly shaped hummock in the snow. She had traveled about it three +times, but never approaching nearer than a man could have reached with a +rifle barrel. At the end of her third circle she sat down on her +haunches, and Kazan went close to the hummock and sniffed. Under that +bulge in the snow, as well as in the tepee, there was death. They slunk +away, their ears flattened and their tails drooping until they trailed +the snow, and did not stop until they reached their swamp home. Even +there Gray Wolf still sniffed the horror of the plague, and her muscles +twitched and shivered as she lay close at Kazan's side. + +That night the big white moon had around its edge a crimson rim. It +meant cold--intense cold. Always the plague came in the days of greatest +cold--the lower the temperature the more terrible its havoc. It grew +steadily colder that night, and the increased chill penetrated to the +heart of the windfall, and drew Kazan and Gray Wolf closer together. +With dawn, which came at about eight o'clock, Kazan and his blind mate +sallied forth into the day. It was fifty degrees below zero. About them +the trees cracked with reports like pistol-shots. In the thickest spruce +the partridges were humped into round balls of feathers. The snow-shoe +rabbits had burrowed deep under the snow or to the heart of the heaviest +windfalls. Kazan and Gray Wolf found few fresh trails, and after an +hour of fruitless hunting they returned to their lair. Kazan, dog-like, +had buried the half of a rabbit two or three days before, and they dug +this out of the snow and ate the frozen flesh. + +All that day it grew colder--steadily colder. The night that followed +was cloudless, with a white moon and brilliant stars. The temperature +had fallen another ten degrees, and nothing was moving. Traps were never +sprung on such nights, for even the furred things--the mink, and the +ermine, and the lynx--lay snug in the holes and the nests they had found +for themselves. An increasing hunger was not strong enough to drive +Kazan and Gray Wolf from their windfall. The next day there was no break +in the terrible cold, and toward noon Kazan set out on a hunt for meat, +leaving Gray Wolf in the windfall. Being three-quarters dog, food was +more necessary to Kazan than to his mate. Nature has fitted the +wolf-breed for famine, and in ordinary temperature Gray Wolf could have +lived for a fortnight without food. At sixty degrees below zero she +could exist a week, perhaps ten days. Only thirty hours had passed +sinee they had devoured the last of the frozen rabbit, and she was quite +satisfied to remain in their snug retreat. + +But Kazan was hungry. He began to hunt in the face of the wind, +traveling toward the burned plain. He nosed about every windfall that he +came to, and investigated the thickets. A thin shot-like snow had +fallen, and in this--from the windfall to the burn--he found but a +single trail, and that was the trail of an ermine. Under a windfall he +caught the warm scent of a rabbit, but the rabbit was as safe from him +there as were the partridges in the trees, and after an hour of futile +digging and gnawing he gave up his effort to reach it. For three hours +he had hunted when he returned to Gray Wolf. He was exhausted. While +Gray Wolf, with the instinct of the wild, had saved her own strength and +energy, Kazan had been burning up his reserve forces, and was hungrier +than ever. + +The moon rose clear and brilliant in the sky again that night, and Kazan +set out once more on the hunt. He urged Gray Wolf to accompany him, +whining for her outside the windfall--returning for her twice--but +Gray Wolf laid her ears aslant and refused to move. The temperature had +now fallen to sixty-five or seventy degrees below zero, and with it +there came from the north an increasing wind, making the night one in +which human life could not have existed for an hour. By midnight Kazan +was back under the windfall. The wind grew stronger. It began to wail in +mournful dirges over the swamp, and then it burst in fierce shrieking +volleys, with intervals of quiet between. These were the first warnings +from the great barrens that lay between the last lines of timber and the +Arctic. With morning the storm burst in all its fury from out of the +north, and Gray Wolf and Kazan lay close together and shivered as they +listened to the roar of it over the windfall. Once Kazan thrust his head +and shoulders out from the shelter of the fallen trees, but the storm +drove him back. Everything that possessed life had sought shelter, +according to its way and instinct. The furred creatures like the mink +and the ermine were safest, for during the warmer hunting days they were +of the kind that cached meat. The wolves and the foxes had sought out +the windfalls, and the rocks. Winged things, with the exception of the +owls, who were a tenth part body and nine-tenths feathers, burrowed +under snow-drifts or found shelter in thick spruce. To the hoofed and +horned animals the storm meant greatest havoc. The deer, the caribou and +the moose could not crawl under windfalls or creep between rocks. The +best they could do was to lie down in the lee of a drift, and allow +themselves to be covered deep with the protecting snow. Even then they +could not keep their shelter long, for they had to _eat_. For eighteen +hours out of the twenty-four the moose had to feed to keep himself alive +during the winter. His big stomach demanded quantity, and it took him +most of his time to nibble from the tops of bushes the two or three +bushels he needed a day. The caribou required almost as much--the deer +least of the three. + +And the storm kept up that day, and the next, and still a third--three +days and three nights--and the third day and night there came with it a +stinging, shot-like snow that fell two feet deep on the level, and in +drifts of eight and ten. It was the "heavy snow" of the Indians--the +snow that lay like lead on the earth, and under which partridges and +rabbits were smothered in thousands. + +On the fourth day after the beginning of the storm Kazan and Gray Wolf +issued forth from the windfall. There was no longer a wind--no more +falling snow. The whole world lay under a blanket of unbroken white, and +it was intensely cold. + +The plague had worked its havoc with men. Now had come the days of +famine and death for the wild things. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf had been a hundred and forty hours without food. To +Gray Wolf this meant acute discomfort, a growing weakness. To Kazan it +was starvation. Six days and six nights of fasting had drawn in their +ribs and put deep hollows in front of their hindquarters. Kazan's eyes +were red, and they narrowed to slits as he looked forth into the day. +Gray Wolf followed him this time when he went out on the hard snow. +Eagerly and hopefully they began the hunt in the bitter cold. They swung +around the edge of the windfall, where there had always been rabbits. +There were no tracks now, and no scent. They continued in a horseshoe +circle through the swamp, and the only scent they caught was that of a +snow-owl perched up in a spruce. They came to the burn and turned back, +hunting the opposite side of the swamp. On this side there was a ridge. +They climbed the ridge, and from the cap of it looked out over a world +that was barren of life. Ceaselessly Gray Wolf sniffed the air, but she +gave no signal to Kazan. On the top of the ridge Kazan stood panting. +His endurance was gone. On their return through the swamp he stumbled +over an obstacle which he tried to clear with a jump. Hungrier and +weaker, they returned to the windfall. The night that followed was +clear, and brilliant with stars. They hunted the swamp again. Nothing +was moving--save one other creature, and that was a fox. Instinct told +them that it was futile to follow him. + +It was then that the old thought of the cabin returned to Kazan. Two +things the cabin had always meant to him--warmth and food. And far +beyond the ridge was the cabin, where he and Gray Wolf had howled at the +scent of death. He did not think of man--or of that mystery which he had +howled at. He thought only of the cabin, and the cabin had always meant +food. He set off in a straight line for the ridge, and Gray Wolf +followed. They crossed the ridge and the burn beyond, and entered the +edge of a second swamp. Kazan was hunting listlessly now. His head hung +low. His bushy tail dragged in the snow. He was intent on the +cabin--only the cabin. It was his last hope. But Gray Wolf was still +alert, taking in the wind, and lifting her head whenever Kazan stopped +to snuffle his chilled nose in the snow. At last it came--the scent! +Kazan had moved on, but he stopped when he found that Gray Wolf was not +following. All the strength that was in his starved body revealed itself +in a sudden rigid tenseness as he looked at his mate. Her forefeet were +planted firmly to the east; her slim gray head was reaching out for the +scent; her body trembled. + +Then--suddenly--they heard a sound, and with a whining cry Kazan set out +in its direction, with Gray Wolf at his flank. The scent grew stronger +and stronger in Gray Wolf's nostrils, and soon it came to Kazan. It was +not the scent of a rabbit or a partridge. It was big game. They +approached cautiously, keeping full in the wind. The swamp grew +thicker, the spruce more dense, and now--from a hundred yards ahead of +them--there came a crashing of locked and battling horns. Ten seconds +more they climbed over a snowdrift, and Kazan stopped and dropped flat +on his belly. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, her blind eyes +turned to what she could smell but could not see. + +Fifty yards from them a number of moose had gathered for shelter in the +thick spruce. They had eaten clear a space an acre in extent. The trees +were cropped bare as high as they could reach, and the snow was beaten +hard under their feet. There were six animals in the acre, two of them +bulls--and these bulls were fighting, while three cows and a yearling +were huddled in a group watching the mighty duel. Just before the storm +a young bull, sleek, three-quarters grown, and with the small compact +antlers of a four-year-old, had led the three cows and the yearling to +this sheltered spot among the spruce. Until last night he had been +master of the herd. During the night the older bull had invaded his +dominion. The invader was four times as old as the young bull. He was +half again as heavy. His huge palmate horns, knotted and irregular--but +massive--spoke of age. A warrior of a hundred fights, he had not +hesitated to give battle in his effort to rob the younger bull of his +home and family. Three times they had fought since dawn, and the +hard-trodden snow was red with blood. The smell of it came to Kazan's +and Gray Wolf's nostrils. Kazan sniffed hungrily. Queer sounds rolled up +and down in Gray Wolf's throat, and she licked her jaws. + +For a moment the two fighters drew a few yards apart, and stood with +lowered heads. The old bull had not yet won victory. The younger bull +represented youth and endurance; in the older bull those things were +pitted against craft, greater weight, maturer strength--and a head and +horns that were like a battering ram. But in that great hulk of the +older bull there was one other thing--age. His huge sides were panting. +His nostrils were as wide as bells. Then, as if some invisible spirit of +the arena had given the signal, the animals came together again. The +crash of their horns could have been heard half a mile away, and under +twelve hundred pounds of flesh and bone the younger hull went plunging +back upon his haunches. Then was when youth displayed itself. In an +instant he was up, and locking horns with his adversary. Twenty times he +had done this, and each attack had seemed filled with increasing +strength. And now, as if realizing that the last moments of the last +fight had come, he twisted the old bull's neck and fought as he had +never fought before. Kazan and Gray Wolf both heard the sharp crack that +followed--as if a dry stick had been stepped upon and broken. It was +February, and the hoofed animals were already beginning to shed their +horns--especially the older bulls, whose palmate growths drop first. +This fact gave victory to the younger bull in the blood-stained arena a +few yards from Gray Wolf and Kazan. From its socket in the old bull's +skull one of his huge antlers broke with that sharp snapping sound, and +in another moment four inches of stiletto-like horn buried itself back +of his foreleg. In an instant all hope and courage left him, and he +swung backward yard by yard, with the younger bull prodding his neck and +shoulders until blood dripped from him in little streams. At the edge +of the clearing he flung himself free and crashed off into the forest. + +The younger bull did not pursue. He tossed his head, and stood for a few +moments with heaving sides and dilated nostrils, facing in the direction +his vanquished foe had taken. Then he turned, and trotted back to the +still motionless cows and yearling. + +Kazan and Gray Wolf were quivering. Gray Wolf slunk back from the edge +of the clearing, and Kazan followed. No longer were they interested in +the cows and the young bull. From that clearing they had seen meat +driven forth--meat that was beaten in fight, and bleeding. Every +instinct of the wild pack returned to Gray Wolf now--and in Kazan the +mad desire to taste the blood he smelled. Swiftly they turned toward the +blood-stained trail of the old bull, and when they came to it they found +it spattered red. Kazan's jaws dripped as the hot scent drove the blood +like veins of fire through his weakened body. His eyes were reddened by +starvation, and in them there was a light now that they had never known +even in the days of the wolf-pack. + +He set off swiftly, almost forgetful of Gray Wolf. But his mate no +longer required his flank for guidance. With her nose close to the trail +she ran--ran as she had run in the long and thrilling hunts before +blindness came. Half a mile from the spruce thicket they came upon the +old bull. He had sought shelter behind a clump of balsam, and he stood +over a growing pool of blood in the snow. He was still breathing hard. +His massive head, grotesque now with its one antler, was drooping. +Flecks of blood dropped from his distended nostrils. Even then, with the +old bull weakened by starvation, exhaustion and loss of blood, a +wolf-pack would have hung back before attacking. Where they would have +hesitated, Kazan leaped in with a snarling cry. For an instant his fangs +sunk into the thick hide of the bull's throat. Then he was flung +back--twenty feet. Hunger gnawing at his vitals robbed him of all +caution, and he sprang to the attack again--full at the bull's +front--while Gray Wolf crept up unseen behind, seeking in her blindness +the vulnerable part which nature had not taught Kazan to find. + +This time Kazan was caught fairly on the broad palmate leaf of the +bull's antler, and he was flung back again, half stunned. In that same +moment Gray Wolf's long white teeth cut like knives through one of the +bull's rope-like hamstrings. For thirty seconds she kept the hold, while +the bull plunged wildly in his efforts to trample her underfoot. Kazan +was quick to learn, still quicker to be guided by Gray Wolf, and he +leaped in again, snapping for a hold on the bulging cord just above the +knee. He missed, and as he lunged forward on his shoulders Gray Wolf was +flung off. But she had accomplished her purpose. Beaten in open battle +with one of his kind, and now attacked by a still deadlier foe, the old +bull began to retreat. As he went, one hip sank under him at every step. +The tendon of his left leg was bitten half through. + +Without being able to see, Gray Wolf seemed to realize what had +happened. Again she was the pack-wolf--with all the old wolf strategy. +Twice flung back by the old bull's horn, Kazan knew better than to +attack openly again. Gray Wolf trotted after the bull, but he remained +behind for a moment to lick up hungrily mouthfuls of the blood-soaked +snow. Then he followed, and ran close against Gray Wolf's side, fifty +yards behind the bull. There was more blood in the trail now--a thin red +ribbon of it. Fifteen minutes later the bull stopped again, and faced +about, his great head lowered. His eyes were red. There was a droop to +his neck and shoulders that spoke no longer of the unconquerable +fighting spirit that had been a part of him for nearly a score of years. +No longer was he lord of the wilderness about him; no longer was there +defiance in the poise of his splendid head, or the flash of eager fire +in his bloodshot eyes. His breath came with a gasping sound that was +growing more and more distinct. A hunter would have known what it meant. +The stiletto-point of the younger bull's antler had gone home, and the +old bull's lungs were failing him. More than once Gray Wolf had heard +that sound in the early days of her hunting with the pack, and she +understood. Slowly she began to circle about the wounded monarch at a +distance of about twenty yards. Kazan kept at her side. + +Once--twice--twenty times they made that slow circle, and with each turn +they made the old bull turned, and his breath grew heavier and his head +drooped lower. Noon came, and was followed by the more intense cold of +the last half of the day. Twenty circles became a hundred--two +hundred--and more. Under Gray Wolf's and Kazan's feet the snow grew hard +in the path they made. Under the old bull's widespread hoofs the snow +was no longer white--but red. A thousand times before this unseen +tragedy of the wilderness had been enacted. It was an epoch of that life +where life itself means the survival of the fittest, where to live means +to kill, and to die means to perpetuate life. At last, in that steady +and deadly circling of Gray Wolf and Kazan, there came a time when the +old bull did not turn--then a second, a third and a fourth time, and +Gray Wolf seemed to know. With Kazan she drew back from the hard-beaten +trail, and they flattened themselves on their bellies under a dwarf +spruce--and waited. For many minutes the bull stood motionless, his +hamstrung quarter sinking lower and lower. And then with a deep +blood-choked gasp he sank down. + +For a long time Kazan and Gray Wolf did not move, and when at last they +returned to the beaten trail the bull's heavy head was resting on the +snow. Again they began to circle, and now the circle narrowed foot by +foot, until only ten yards--then nine--then eight--separated them from +their prey. The bull attempted to rise, and failed. Gray Wolf heard the +effort. She heard him sink back and suddenly she leaped in swiftly and +silently from behind. Her sharp fangs buried themselves in the bull's +nostrils, and with the first instinct of the husky, Kazan sprang for a +throat hold. This time he was not flung off. It was Gray Wolf's terrible +hold that gave him time to tear through the half-inch hide, and to bury +his teeth deeper and deeper, until at last they reached the jugular. A +gush of warm blood spurted into his face. But he did not let go. Just as +he had held to the jugular of his first buck on that moonlight night a +long time ago, so he held to the old bull now. It was Gray Wolf who +unclamped his jaws. She drew back, sniffing the air, listening. Then, +slowly, she raised her head, and through the frozen and starving +wilderness there went her wailing triumphant cry--the call to meat. + +For them the days of famine had passed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE RIGHT OF FANG + + +After the fight Kazan lay down exhausted in the blood-stained snow, +while faithful Gray Wolf, still filled with the endurance of her wild +wolf breed, tore fiercely at the thick skin on the bull's neck to lay +open the red flesh. When she had done this she did not eat, but ran to +Kazan's side and whined softly as she muzzled him with her nose. After +that they feasted, crouching side by side at the bull's neck and tearing +at the warm sweet flesh. + +The last pale light of the northern day was fading swiftly into night +when they drew back, gorged until there were no longer hollows in their +sides. The faint wind died away. The clouds that had hung in the sky +during the day drifted eastward, and the moon shone brilliant and clear. +For an hour the night continued to grow lighter. To the brilliance of +the moon and the stars there was added now the pale fires of the aurora +borealis, shivering and flashing over the Pole. + +Its hissing crackling monotone, like the creaking of steel +sledge-runners on frost-filled snow, came faintly to the ears of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. + +As yet they had not gone a hundred yards from the dead bull, and at the +first sound of that strange mystery in the northern skies they stopped +and listened to it, alert and suspicious. Then they laid their ears +aslant and trotted slowly back to the meat they had killed. Instinct +told them that it was theirs only by right of fang. They had fought to +kill it. And it was in the law of the wild that they would have to fight +to keep it. In good hunting days they would have gone on and wandered +under the moon and the stars. But long days and nights of starvation had +taught them something different now. + +On that clear and stormless night following the days of plague and +famine, a hundred thousand hungry creatures came out from their retreats +to hunt for food. For eighteen hundred miles east and west and a +thousand miles north and south, slim gaunt-bellied creatures hunted +under the moon and the stars. Something told Kazan and Gray Wolf that +this hunt was on, and never for an instant did they cease their +vigilance. At last they lay down at the edge of the spruce thicket, and +waited. Gray Wolf muzzled Kazan gently with her blind face. The uneasy +whine in her throat was a warning to him. Then she sniffed the air, and +listened--sniffed and listened. + +Suddenly every muscle in their bodies grew rigid. Something living had +passed near them, something that they could not see or hear, and +scarcely scent. It came again, as mysterious as a shadow, and then out +of the air there floated down as silently as a huge snowflake a great +white owl. Kazan saw the hungry winged creature settle on the bull's +shoulder. Like a flash he was out from his cover, Gray Wolf a yard +behind him. With an angry snarl he lunged at the white robber, and his +jaws snapped on empty air. His leap carried him clean over the bull. He +turned, but the owl was gone. + +Nearly all of his old strength had returned to him now. He trotted about +the bull, the hair along his spine bristling like a brush, his eyes +wide and menacing. He snarled at the still air. His jaws clicked, and he +sat back on his haunches and faced the blood-stained trail that the +moose had left before he died. Again that instinct as infallible as +reason told him that danger would come from there. + +Like a red ribbon the trail ran back through the wilderness. The little +swift-moving ermine were everywhere this night, looking like white rats +as they dodged about in the moonlight. They were first to find the +trail, and with all the ferocity of their blood-eating nature followed +it with quick exciting leaps. A fox caught the scent of it a quarter of +a mile to windward, and came nearer. From out of a deep windfall a +beady-eyed, thin-bellied fisher-cat came forth, and stopped with his +feet in the crimson ribbon. + +It was the fisher-cat that brought Kazan out; from under his cover of +spruce again. In the moonlight there was a sharp quick fight, a snarling +and scratching, a cat-like yowl of pain, and the fisher forgot his +hunger in flight. Kazan returned to Gray Wolf with a lacerated and +bleeding nose. Gray Wolf licked it sympathetically, while Kazan stood +rigid and listening. + +The fox swung swiftly away with the wind, warned by the sounds of +conflict. He was not a fighter, but a murderer who killed from behind, +and a little later he leaped upon an owl and tore it into bits for the +half-pound of flesh within the mass of feathers. + +But nothing could drive back those little white outlaws of the +wilderness--the ermine. They would have stolen between the feet of man +to get at the warm flesh and blood of the freshly killed bull. Kazan +hunted them savagely. They were too quick for him, more like elusive +flashes in the moonlight than things of life. They burrowed under the +old bull's body and fed while he raved and filled his mouth with snow. +Gray Wolf sat placidly on her haunches. The little ermine did not +trouble her, and after a time Kazan realized this, and flung himself +down beside her, panting and exhausted. + +For a long time after that the night was almost unbroken by sound. Once +in the far distance there came the cry of a wolf, and now and then, to +punctuate the deathly silence, the snow owl hooted in blood-curdling +protest from his home in the spruce-tops. The moon was straight above +the old bull when Gray Wolf scented the first real danger. Instantly she +gave the warning to Kazan and faced the bloody trail, her lithe body +quivering, her fangs gleaming in the starlight, a snarling whine in her +throat. Only in the face of their deadliest enemy, the lynx--the +terrible fighter who had blinded her long ago in that battle on the Sun +Rock!--did she give such warning as this to Kazan. He sprang ahead of +her, ready for battle even before he caught the scent of the gray +beautiful creature of death stealing over the trail. + +Then came the interruption. From a mile away there burst forth a single +fierce long-drawn howl. + +After all, that was the cry of the true master of the wilderness--the +wolf. It was the cry of hunger. It was the cry that sent men's blood +running more swiftly through their veins, that brought the moose and the +deer to their feet shivering in every limb--the cry that wailed like a +note of death through swamp and forest and over the snow-smothered +ridges until its faintest echoes reached for miles into the starlit +night. + +There was silence, and in that awesome stillness Kazan and Gray Wolf +stood shoulder to shoulder facing the cry, and in response to that cry +there worked within them a strange and mystic change, for what they had +heard was not a warning or a menace but the call of Brotherhood. Away +off there--beyond the lynx and the fox and the fisher-cat, were the +creatures of their kind, the wild-wolf pack, to which the right to all +flesh and blood was common--in which existed that savage socialism of +the wilderness, the Brotherhood of the Wolf. And Gray Wolf, setting back +on her haunches, sent forth the response to that cry--a wailing +triumphant note that told her hungry brethren there was feasting at the +end of the trail. + +And the lynx, between those two cries, sneaked off into the wide and +moonlit spaces of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + +On their haunches Kazan and Gray Wolf waited. Five minutes passed, +ten--fifteen--and Gray Wolf became uneasy. No response had followed her +call. Again she howled, with Kazan quivering and listening beside her, +and again there followed that dead stillness of the night. This was not +the way of the pack. She knew that it had not gone beyond the reach of +her voice and its silence puzzled her. And then in a flash it came to +them both that the pack, or the single wolf whose cry they had heard, +was very near them. The scent was warm. A few moments later Kazan saw a +moving object in the moonlight. It was followed by another, and still +another, until there were five slouching in a half-circle about them, +seventy yards away. Then they laid themselves flat in the snow and were +motionless. + +A snarl turned Kazan's eyes to Gray Wolf. His blind mate had drawn +back. Her white fangs gleamed menacingly in the starlight. Her ears were +flat. Kazan was puzzled. Why was she signaling danger to him when it was +the wolf, and not the lynx, out there in the snow? And why did the +wolves not come in and feast? Slowly he moved toward them, and Gray Wolf +called to him with her whine. He paid no attention to her, but went on, +stepping lightly, his head high in the air, his spine bristling. + +In the scent of the strangers, Kazan was catching something now that was +strangely familiar. It drew him toward them more swiftly and when at +last he stopped twenty yards from where the little group lay flattened +in the snow, his thick brush waved slightly. One of the animals sprang +up and approached. The others followed and in another moment Kazan was +in the midst of them, smelling and smelled, and wagging his tail. They +were dogs, and not wolves. + +In some lonely cabin in the wilderness their master had died, and they +had taken to the forests. They still bore signs of the sledge-traces. +About their necks were moose-hide collars. The hair was worn short at +their flanks, and one still dragged after him three feet of corded +babiche trace. Their eyes gleamed red and hungry in the glow of the moon +and the stars. They were thin, and gaunt and starved, and Kazan suddenly +turned and trotted ahead of them to the side of the dead bull. Then he +fell back and sat proudly on his haunches beside Gray Wolf, listening to +the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh as the starved pack +feasted. + +Gray Wolf slunk closer to Kazan. She muzzled his neck and Kazan gave her +a swift dog-like caress of his tongue, assuring her that all was well. +She flattened herself in the snow when the dogs had finished and came up +in their dog way to sniff at her, and make closer acquaintance with +Kazan. Kazan towered over her, guarding her. One huge red-eyed dog who +still dragged the bit of babiche trace muzzled Gray Wolf's soft neck for +a fraction of a second too long, and Kazan uttered a savage snarl of +warning. The dog drew back, and for a moment their fangs gleamed over +Gray Wolf's blind face. It was the Challenge of the Breed. + +The big husky was the leader of the pack, and if one of the other dogs +had snarled at him, as Kazan snarled he would have leaped at his throat. +But in Kazan, standing fierce and half wild over Gray Wolf, he +recognized none of the serfdom of the sledge-dogs. It was master facing +master; in Kazan it was more than that for he was Gray Wolf's mate. In +an instant more he would have leaped over her body to have fought for +her, more than for the right of leadership. But the big husky turned +away sullenly, growling, still snarling, and vented his rage by nipping +fiercely at the flank of one of his sledge-mates. + +Gray Wolf understood what had happened, though she could not see. She +shrank closer to Kazan. She knew that the moon and the stars had looked +down on that thing that always meant death--the challenge to the right +of mate. With her luring coyness, whining and softly muzzling his +shoulder and neck, she tried to draw Kazan away from the pad-beaten +circle in which the bull lay. Kazan's answer was an ominous rolling of +smothered thunder deep down in his throat. He lay down beside her, +licked her blind face swiftly, and faced the stranger dogs. + +The moon sank lower and lower and at last dropped behind the western +forests. The stars grew paler. One by one they faded from the sky and +after a time there followed the cold gray dawn of the North. In that +dawn the big husky leader rose from the hole he had made in the snow and +returned to the bull. Kazan, alert, was on his feet in an instant and +stood also close to the bull. The two circled ominously, their heads +lowered, their crests bristling. The husky drew away, and Kazan crouched +at the bull's neck and began tearing at the frozen flesh. He was not +hungry. But in this way he showed his right to the flesh, his defiance +of the right of the big husky. + +For a few seconds he forgot Gray Wolf. The husky had slipped back like a +shadow and now he stood again over Gray Wolf, sniffing her neck and +body. Then he whined. In that whine were the passion, the invitation, +the demand of the Wild. So quickly that the eye could scarcely follow +her movement faithful Gray Wolf sank her gleaming fangs in the husky's +shoulder. + +A gray streak--nothing more tangible than a streak of gray, silent and +terrible, shot through the dawn-gloom. It was Kazan. He came without a +snarl, without a cry, and in a moment he and the husky were in the +throes of terrific battle. + +The four other huskies ran in quickly and stood waiting a dozen paces +from the combatants. Gray Wolf lay crouched on her belly. The giant +husky and the quarter-strain wolf-dog were not fighting like sledge-dog +or wolf. For a few moments rage and hatred made them fight like +mongrels. Both had holds. Now one was down, and now the other, and so +swiftly did they change their positions that the four waiting +sledge-dogs were puzzled and stood motionless. Under other conditions +they would have leaped upon the first of the fighters to be thrown upon +his back and torn him to pieces. That was the way of the wolf and the +wolf-dog. But now they stood back, hesitating and fearful. + +The big husky had never been beaten in battle. Great Dane ancestors had +given him a huge bulk and a jaw that could crush an ordinary dog's head. +But in Kazan he was meeting not only the dog and the wolf, but all that +was best in the two. And Kazan had the advantage of a few hours of rest +and a full stomach. More than that, he was fighting for Gray Wolf. His +fangs had sunk deep in the husky's shoulder, and the husky's long teeth +met through the hide and flesh of his neck. An inch deeper, and they +would have pierced his jugular. Kazan knew this, as he crunched his +enemy's shoulder-bone, and every instant--even in their fiercest +struggling--he was guarding against a second and more successful lunge +of those powerful jaws. + +At last the lunge came, and quicker than the wolf itself Kazan freed +himself and leaped back. His chest dripped blood, but he did not feel +the hurt. They began slowly to circle, and now the watching sledge-dogs +drew a step or two nearer, and their jaws drooled nervously and their +red eyes glared as they waited for the fatal moment. Their eyes were on +the big husky. He became the pivot of Kazan's wider circle now, and he +limped as he turned. His shoulder was broken. His ears were flattened +as he watched Kazan. + +Kazan's ears were erect, and his feet touched the snow lightly. All his +fighting cleverness and all his caution had returned to him. The blind +rage of a few moments was gone and he fought now as he had fought his +deadliest enemy, the long-clawed lynx. Five times he circled around the +husky, and then like a shot he was in, sending his whole weight against +the husky's shoulder, with the momentum of a ten-foot leap behind it. +This time he did not try for a hold, but slashed at the husky's jaws. It +was the deadliest of all attacks when that merciless tribunal of death +stood waiting for the first fall of the vanquished. The huge dog was +thrown from his feet. For a fatal moment he rolled upon his side and in +the moment his four sledge-mates were upon him. All of their hatred of +the weeks and months in which the long-fanged leader had bullied them in +the traces was concentrated upon him now and he was literally torn into +pieces. + +Kazan pranced to Gray Wolf's side and with a joyful whine she laid her +head over his neck. Twice he had fought the Fight of Death for her. +Twice he had won. And in her blindness Gray Wolf's soul--if soul she +had--rose in exultation to the cold gray sky, and her breast panted +against Kazan's shoulder as she listened to the crunching of fangs in +the flesh and bone of the foe her lord and master had overthrown. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CALL + + +Followed days of feasting on the frozen flesh of the old bull. In vain +Gray Wolf tried to lure Kazan off into the forests and the swamps. Day +by day the temperature rose. There was hunting now. And Gray Wolf wanted +to be alone--with Kazan. But with Kazan, as with most men, leadership +and power roused new sensations. And he was the leader of the dog-pack, +as he had once been a leader among the wolves. Not only Gray Wolf +followed at his flank now, but the four huskies trailed behind him. Once +more he was experiencing that triumph and strange thrill that he had +almost forgotten and only Gray Wolf, in that eternal night of her +blindness, felt with dread foreboding the danger into which his newly +achieved czarship might lead him. + +For three days and three nights they remained in the neighborhood of the +dead moose, ready to defend it against others, and yet each day and +each night growing less vigilant in their guard. Then came the fourth +night, on which they killed a young doe. Kazan led in that chase and for +the first time, in the excitement of having the pack at his back, he +left his blind mate behind. When they came to the kill he was the first +to leap at its soft throat. And not until he had begun to tear at the +doe's flesh did the others dare to eat. He was master. He could send +them back with a snarl. At the gleam of his fangs they crouched +quivering on their bellies in the snow. + +Kazan's blood was fomented with brute exultation, and the excitement and +fascination that came in the possession of new power took the place of +Gray Wolf each day a little more. She came in half an hour after the +kill, and there was no longer the lithesome alertness to her slender +legs, or gladness in the tilt of her ears or the poise of her head. She +did not eat much of the doe. Her blind face was turned always in Kazan's +direction. Wherever he moved she followed with her unseeing eyes, as if +expecting each moment his old signal to her--that low throat-note that +had called to her so often when they were alone in the wilderness. + +In Kazan, as leader of the pack, there was working a curious change. If +his mates had been wolves it would not have been difficult for Gray Wolf +to have lured him away. But Kazan was among his own kind. He was a dog. +And they were dogs. Fires that had burned down and ceased to warm him +flamed up in him anew. In his life with Gray Wolf one thing had +oppressed him as it could not oppress her, and that thing was +loneliness. Nature had created him of that kind which requires +companionship--not of one but of many. It had given him birth that he +might listen to and obey the commands of the voice of man. He had grown +to hate men, but of the dogs--his kind--he was a part. He had been happy +with Gray Wolf, happier than he had ever been in the companionship of +men and his blood-brothers. But he had been a long time separated from +the life that had once been his and the call of blood made him for a +time forget. And only Gray Wolf, with that wonderful super-instinct +which nature was giving her in place of her lost sight, foresaw the end +to which it was leading him. + +Each day the temperature continued to rise until when the sun was +warmest the snow began to thaw a little. This was two weeks after the +fight near the bull. Gradually the pack had swung eastward, until it was +now fifty miles east and twenty miles south of the old home under the +windfall. More than ever Gray Wolf began to long for their old nest +under the fallen trees. Again with those first promises of spring in +sunshine and air, there was coming also for the second time in her life +the promise of approaching motherhood. + +But her efforts to draw Kazan back were unavailing, and in spite of her +protest he wandered each day a little farther east and south at the head +of his pack. + +Instinct impelled the four huskies to move in that direction. They had +not yet been long enough a part of the wild to forget the necessity of +man and in that direction there was man. In that direction, and not far +from them now, was the Hudson Bay Company's post to which they and their +dead master owed their allegiance. Kazan did not know this, but one day +something happened to bring back visions and desires that widened still +more the gulf between him and Gray Wolf. + +They had come to the cap of a ridge when something stopped them. It was +a man's voice crying shrilly that word of long ago that had so often +stirred the blood in Kazan's own veins--"_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! +m'hoosh!"_--and from the ridge they looked down upon the open space of +the plain, where a team of six dogs was trotting ahead of a sledge, with +a man running behind them, urging them on at every other step with that +cry of "_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!"_ + +Trembling and undecided, the four huskies and the wolf-dog stood on the +ridge with Gray Wolf cringing behind them. Not until man and dogs and +sledge had disappeared did they move, and then they trotted down to the +trail and sniffed at it whiningly and excitedly. For a mile or two they +followed it, Kazan and his mates going fearlessly in the trail. Gray +Wolf hung back, traveling twenty yards to the right of them, with the +hot man-scent driving the blood feverishly through her brain. Only her +love for Kazan--and the faith she still had in him--kept her that near. + +At the edge of a swamp Kazan halted and turned away from the trail. With +the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion +which nothing could quite wipe out--the suspicion that was an +inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf. Gray Wolf whined joyfully +when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her +shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side. + +The "slush" snows followed fast after this. And the "slush" snows meant +spring--and the emptying of the wilderness of human life. Kazan and his +mates soon began to scent the presence and the movement of this life. +They were now within thirty miles of the post. For a hundred miles on +all sides of them the trappers were moving in with their late winter's +catch of furs. From east and west, south and north, all trails led to +the post. The pack was caught in the mesh of them. For a week not a day +passed that they did not cross a fresh trail, and sometimes two or +three. + +Gray Wolf was haunted by constant fear. In her blindness she knew that +they were surrounded by the menace of men. To Kazan what was coming to +pass had more and more ceased to fill him with fear and caution. Three +times that week he heard the shouts of men--and once he heard a white +man's laughter and the barking of dogs as their master tossed them their +daily feed of fish. In the air he caught the pungent scent of camp-fires +and one night, in the far distance, he heard a wild snatch of song, +followed by the yelping and barking of a dog-pack. + +Slowly and surely the lure of man drew him nearer to the post--a mile +to-night, two miles to-morrow, but always nearer. And Gray Wolf, +fighting her losing fight to the end, sensed in the danger-filled air +the nearness of that hour when he would respond to the final call and +she would be left alone. + +These were days of activity and excitement at the fur company's post, +the days of accounting, of profit and of pleasure;--the days when the +wilderness poured in its treasure of fur, to be sent a little later to +London and Paris and the capitals of Europe. And this year there was +more than the usual interest in the foregathering of the forest people. +The plague had wrought its terrible havoc, and not until the fur-hunters +had come to answer to the spring roll-call would it be known accurately +who had lived and who had died. + +The Chippewans and half-breeds from the south began to arrive first, +with their teams of mongrel curs, picked up along the borders of +civilization. Close after them came the hunters from the western barren +lands, bringing with them loads of white fox and caribou skins, and an +army of big-footed, long-legged Mackenzie hounds that pulled like horses +and wailed like whipped puppies when the huskies and Eskimo dogs set +upon them. Packs of fierce Labrador dogs, never vanquished except by +death, came from close to Hudson's Bay. Team after team of little yellow +and gray Eskimo dogs, as quick with their fangs as were their black and +swift-running masters with their hands and feet, met the much larger and +dark-colored Malemutes from the Athabasca. Enemies of all these packs of +fierce huskies trailed in from all sides, fighting, snapping and +snarling, with the lust of killing deep born in them from their wolf +progenitors. + +There was no cessation in the battle of the fangs. It began with the +first brute arrivals. It continued from dawn through the day and around +the camp-fires at night. There was never an end to the strife between +the dogs, and between the men and the dogs. The snow was trailed and +stained with blood and the scent of it added greater fierceness to the +wolf-breeds. + +Half a dozen battles were fought to the death each day and night. Those +that died were chiefly the south-bred curs--mixtures of mastiff, Great +Dane, and sheep-dog--and the fatally slow Mackenzie hounds. About the +post rose the smoke of a hundred camp-fires, and about these fires +gathered the women and the children of the hunters. When the snow was no +longer fit for sledging, Williams, the factor, noted that there were +many who had not come, and the accounts of these he later scratched out +of his ledgers knowing that they were victims of the plague. + +At last came the night of the Big Carnival, For weeks and months women +and children and men had been looking forward to this. In scores of +forest cabins, in smoke-blackened tepees, and even in the frozen homes +of the little Eskimos, anticipation of this wild night of pleasure had +given an added zest to life. It was the Big Circus--the good time given +twice each year by the company to its people. + +This year, to offset the memory of plague and death, the factor had put +forth unusual exertions. His hunters had killed four fat caribou. In the +clearing there were great piles of dry logs, and in the center of all +there rose eight ten-foot tree-butts crotched at the top; and from +crotch to crotch there rested a stout sapling stripped of bark, and on +each sapling was spitted the carcass of a caribou, to be roasted whole +by the heat of the fire beneath. The fires were lighted at dusk, and +Williams himself started the first of those wild songs of the +Northland--the song of the caribou, as the flames leaped up into the +dark night. + + "Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo, + He roas' on high, + Jes' under ze sky. + air-holes beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!" + +"Now!" he yelled. "Now--all together!" And carried away by his +enthusiasm, the forest people awakened from their silence of months, +and the song burst forth in a savage frenzy that reached to the skies. + + * * * * * + +Two miles to the south and west that first thunder of human voice +reached the ears of Kazan and Gray Wolf and the masterless huskies. And +with the voices of men they heard now the excited howlings of dogs. The +huskies faced the direction of the sounds, moving restlessly and +whining. For a few moments Kazan stood as though carven of rock. Then he +turned his head, and his first look was to Gray Wolf. She had slunk back +a dozen feet and lay crouched under the thick cover of a balsam shrub. +Her body, legs and neck were flattened in the snow. She made no sound, +but her lips were drawn back and her teeth shone white. + +Kazan trotted back to her, sniffed at her blind face and whined. Gray +Wolf still did not move. He returned to the dogs and his jaws opened and +closed with a snap. Still more clearly came the wild voice of the +carnival, and no longer to be held back by Kazan's leadership, the four +huskies dropped their heads and slunk like shadows in its direction. +Kazan hesitated, urging Gray Wolf. But not a muscle of Gray Wolf's body +moved. She would have followed him in face of fire but not in face of +man. Not a sound escaped her ears. She heard the quick fall of Kazan's +feet as he left her. In another moment she knew that he was gone. +Then--and not until then--did she lift her head, and from her soft +throat there broke a whimpering cry. + +It was her last call to Kazan. But stronger than that there was running +through Kazan's excited blood the call of man and of dog. The huskies +were far in advance of him now and for a few moments he raced madly to +overtake them. Then he slowed down until he was trotting, and a hundred +yards farther on he stopped. Less than a mile away he could see where +the flames of the great fires were reddening the sky. He gazed back to +see if Gray Wolf was following and then went on until he struck an open +and hard traveled trail. It was beaten with the footprints of men and +dogs, and over it two of the caribou had been dragged a day or two +before. + +At last he came to the thinned out strip of timber that surrounded the +clearing and the flare of the flames was in his eyes. The bedlam of +sound that came to him now was like fire in his brain. He heard the song +and the laughter of men, the shrill cries of women and children, the +barking and snarling and fighting of a hundred dogs. He wanted to rush +out and join them, to become again a part of what he had once been. Yard +by yard he sneaked through the thin timber until he reached the edge of +the clearing. There he stood in the shadow of a spruce and looked out +upon life as he had once lived it, trembling, wistful and yet hesitating +in that final moment. + +A hundred yards away was the savage circle of men and dogs and fire. His +nostrils were filled with the rich aroma of the roasting caribou, and as +he crouched down, still with that wolfish caution that Gray Wolf had +taught him, men with long poles brought the huge carcasses crashing down +upon the melting snow about the fires. In one great rush the horde of +wild revelers crowded in with bared knives, and a snarling mass of dogs +closed in behind them. In another moment he had forgotten Gray Wolf, had +forgotten all that man and the wild had taught him, and like a gray +streak was across the open. + +The dogs were surging back when he reached them, with half a dozen of +the factor's men lashing them in the faces with long caribou-gut whips. +The sting of a lash fell in a fierce cut over an Eskimo dog's shoulder, +and in snapping at the lash his fangs struck Kazan's rump. With +lightning swiftness Kazan returned the cut, and in an instant the jaws +of the dogs had met. In another instant they were down and Kazan had the +Eskimo dog by the throat. + +With shouts the men rushed in. Again and again their whips cut like +knives through the air. Their blows fell on Kazan, who was uppermost, +and as he felt the burning pain of the scourging whips there flooded +through him all at once the fierce memory of the days of old--the days +of the Club and the Lash. He snarled. Slowly he loosened his hold of the +Eskimo dog's throat. And then, out of the mêlée of dogs and men, there +sprang another man--_with a club_! It fell on Kazan's back and the force +of it sent him flat into the snow. It was raised again. Behind the club +there was a face--a brutal, fire-reddened face. It was such a face that +had driven Kazan into the wild, and as the club fell again he evaded the +full weight of its blow and his fangs gleamed like ivory knives. A third +time the club was raised, and this time Kazan met it in mid-air, and his +teeth ripped the length of the man's forearm. + +"Good God!" shrieked the man in pain, and Kazan caught the gleam of a +rifle barrel as he sped toward the forest. A shot followed. Something +like a red-hot coal ran the length of Kazan's hip, and deep in the +forest he stopped to lick at the burning furrow where the bullet had +gone just deep enough to take the skin and hair from his flesh. + + * * * * * + +Gray Wolf was still waiting under the balsam shrub when Kazan returned +to her. Joyously she sprang forth to meet him. Once more the man had +sent back the old Kazan to her. He muzzled her neck and face, and stood +for a few moments with his head resting across her back, listening to +the distant sound. + +Then, with ears laid flat, he set out straight into the north and west. +And now Gray Wolf ran shoulder to shoulder with him like the Gray Wolf +of the days before the dog-pack came; for that wonderful thing that lay +beyond the realm of reason told her that once more she was comrade and +mate, and that their trail that night was leading to their old home +under the windfall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HIS SON + + +It happened that Kazan was to remember three things above all others. He +could never quite forget his old days in the traces, though they were +growing more shadowy and indistinct in his memory as the summers and the +winters passed. Like a dream there came to him a memory of the time he +had gone down to Civilization. Like dreams were the visions that rose +before him now and then of the face of the First Woman, and of the faces +of masters who--to him--had lived ages ago. And never would he quite +forget the Fire, and his fights with man and beast, and his long chases +in the moonlight. But two things were always with him as if they had +been but yesterday, rising clear and unforgetable above all others, like +the two stars in the North that never lost their brilliance. One was +Woman. The other was the terrible fight of that night on the top of the +Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded forever his wild mate, Gray Wolf. +Certain events remain indelibly fixed in the minds of men; and so, in a +not very different way, they remain in the minds of beasts. It takes +neither brain nor reason to measure the depths of sorrow or of +happiness. And Kazan in his unreasoning way knew that contentment and +peace, a full stomach, and caresses and kind words instead of blows had +come to him through Woman, and that comradeship in the wilderness--faith, +loyalty and devotion--were a part of Gray Wolf. The third unforgetable +thing was about to occur in the home they had found for themselves under +the swamp windfall during the days of cold and famine. + +They had left the swamp over a month before when it was smothered deep +in snow. On the day they returned to it the sun was shining warmly in +the first glorious days of spring warmth. Everywhere, big and small, +there were the rushing torrents of melting snows and the crackle of +crumbling ice, the dying cries of thawing rock and earth and tree, and +each night for many nights past the cold pale glow of the aurora +borealis had crept farther and farther toward the Pole in fading glory. +So early as this the poplar buds had begun to swell and the air was +filled with the sweet odor of balsam, spruce and cedar. Where there had +been famine and death and stillness six weeks before, Kazan and Gray +Wolf now stood at the edge of the swamp and breathed the earthy smells +of spring, and listened to the sounds of life. Over their heads a pair +of newly-mated moose-birds fluttered and scolded at them. A big jay sat +pluming himself in the sunshine. Farther in they heard the crack of a +stick broken under a heavy hoof. From the ridge behind them they caught +the raw scent of a mother bear, busy pulling down the tender poplar buds +for her six-weeks-old cubs, born while she was still deep in her winter +sleep. + +In the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air there breathed to +Gray Wolf the mystery of matehood and of motherhood. She whined softly +and rubbed her blind face against Kazan. For days, in her way, she tried +to tell him. More than ever she wanted to curl herself up in that warm +dry nest under the windfall. She had no desire to hunt. The crack of +the dry stick under a cloven hoof and the warm scent of the she-bear and +her cubs roused none of the old instincts in her. She wanted to curl +herself up in the old windfall--and wait. And she tried hard to make +Kazan understand her desire. + +Now that the snow was gone they found that a narrow creek lay between +them and the knoll on which the windfall was situated. Gray Wolf picked +up her ears at the tumult of the little torrent. Since the day of the +Fire, when Kazan and she had saved themselves on the sand-bar, she had +ceased to have the inherent wolf horror of water. She followed +fearlessly, even eagerly, behind Kazan as he sought a place where they +could ford the rushing little stream. On the other side Kazan could see +the big windfall. Gray Wolf could _smell_ it and she whined joyously, +with her blind face turned toward it. A hundred yards up the stream a +big cedar had fallen over it and Kazan began to cross. For a moment Gray +Wolf hesitated, and then followed. Side by side they trotted to the +windfall. With their heads and shoulders in the dark opening to their +nest they scented the air long and cautiously. Then they entered. Kazan +heard Gray Wolf as she flung herself down on the dry floor of the snug +cavern. She was panting, not from exhaustion, but because she was filled +with a sensation of contentment and happiness. In the darkness Kazan's +own jaws fell apart. He, too, was glad to get back to their old home. He +went to Gray Wolf and, panting still harder, she licked his face. It had +but one meaning. And Kazan understood. + +For a moment he lay down beside her, listening, and eyeing the opening +to their nest. Then he began to sniff about the log walls. He was close +to the opening when a sudden fresh scent came to him, and he grew rigid, +and his bristles stood up. The scent was followed by a whimpering, +babyish chatter. A porcupine entered the opening and proceeded to +advance in its foolish fashion, still chattering in that babyish way +that has made its life inviolable at the hands of man. Kazan had heard +that sound before, and like all other beasts had learned to ignore the +presence of the innocuous creature that made it. But just now he did not +stop to consider that what he saw was a porcupine and that at his first +snarl the good-humored little creature would waddle away as fast as it +could, still chattering baby talk to itself. His first reasoning was +that it was a live thing invading the home to which Gray Wolf and he had +just returned. A day later, or perhaps an hour later, he would have +driven it back with a growl. Now he leaped upon it. + +A wild chattering, intermingled with pig-like squeaks, and then a rising +staccato of howls followed the attack. Gray Wolf sprang to the opening. +The porcupine was rolled up in a thousand-spiked ball a dozen feet away, +and she could hear Kazan tearing about in the throes of the direst agony +that can befall a beast of the forests. His face and nose were a mat of +quills. For a few moments he rolled and dug in the wet mold and earth, +pawing madly at the things that pierced his flesh. Then he set off like +all dogs will who have come into contact with the friendly porcupine, +and raced again and again around the windfall, howling at every jump. +Gray Wolf took the matter coolly. It is possible that at times there are +moments of humor in the lives of animals. If so, she saw this one. She +scented the porcupine and she knew that Kazan was full of quills. As +there was nothing to do and nothing to fight she sat back on her +haunches and waited, pricking up her ears every time Kazan passed her in +his mad circuit around the windfall. At his fourth or fifth heat the +porcupine smoothed itself down a little, and continuing the interrupted +thread of its chatter waddled to a near-by poplar, climbed it and began +to gnaw the tender bark from a limb. + +At last Kazan halted before Gray Wolf. The first agony of a hundred +little needles piercing his flesh had deadened into a steady burning +pain. Gray Wolf went over to him and investigated him cautiously. With +her teeth she seized the ends of two or three of the quills and pulled +them out. Kazan was very much dog now. He gave a yelp, and whimpered as +Gray Wolf jerked out a second bunch of quills. Then he flattened himself +on his belly, stretched out his forelegs, closed his eyes, and without +any other sound except an occasional yelp of pain allowed Gray Wolf to +go on with the operation. Fortunately he had escaped getting any of the +quills in his mouth and tongue. But his nose and jaws were soon red +with blood. For an hour Gray Wolf kept faithfully at her task and by the +end of that time had succeeded in pulling out most of the quills. A few +still remained, too short and too deeply inbedded for her to extract +with her teeth. + +After this Kazan went down to the creek and buried his burning muzzle in +the cold water. This gave him some relief, but only for a short time. +The quills that remained worked their way deeper and deeper into his +flesh, like living things. Nose and lips began to swell. Blood and +saliva dripped from his mouth and his eyes grew red. Two hours after +Gray Wolf had retired to her nest under the windfall a quill had +completely pierced his lip and began to prick his tongue. In desperation +Kazan chewed viciously upon a piece of wood. This broke and crumpled the +quill, and destroyed its power to do further harm. Nature had told him +the one thing to do to save himself. Most of that day he spent in +gnawing at wood and crunching mouthfuls of earth and mold between his +jaws. In this way the barb-toothed points of the quills were dulled and +broken as they came through. At dusk he crawled under the windfall, and +Gray Wolf gently licked his muzzle with her soft cool tongue. Frequently +during the night Kazan went to the creek and found relief in its +ice-cold water. + +The next day he had what the forest people call "porcupine mumps." His +face was swollen until Gray Wolf would have laughed if she had been +human, and not blind. His chops bulged like cushions. His eyes were mere +slits. When he went out into the day he blinked, for he could see +scarcely better than his sightless mate. But the pain was mostly gone. +The night that followed he began to think of hunting, and the next +morning before it was yet dawn he brought a rabbit into their den. A few +hours later he would have brought a spruce partridge to Gray Wolf, but +just as he was about to spring upon his feathered prey the soft chatter +of a porcupine a few yards away brought him to a sudden stop. Few things +could make Kazan drop his tail. But that inane and incoherent prattle of +the little spiked beast sent him off at double-quick with his tail +between his legs. As man abhors and evades the creeping serpent, so +Kazan would hereafter evade this little creature of the forests that +never in animal history has been known to lose its good-humor or pick a +quarrel. + +Two weeks of lengthening days, of increasing warmth, of sunshine and +hunting, followed Kazan's adventure with the porcupine. The last of the +snow went rapidly. Out of the earth began to spring tips of green. The +_bakneesh_ vine glistened redder each day, the poplar buds began to +split, and in the sunniest spots, between the rocks of the ridges the +little white snow-flowers began to give a final proof that spring had +come. For the first of those two weeks Gray Wolf hunted frequently with +Kazan. They did not go far. The swamp was alive with small game and each +day or night they killed fresh meat. After the first week Gray Wolf +hunted less. Then came the soft and balmy night, glorious in the +radiance of a full spring moon when she refused to leave the windfall. +Kazan did not urge her. Instinct made him understand, and he did not go +far from the windfall that night in his hunt. When he returned he +brought a rabbit. + +Came then the night when from the darkest corner of the windfall Gray +Wolf warned him back with a low snarl. He stood in the opening, a rabbit +between his jaws. He took no offense at the snarl, but stood for a +moment, gazing into the gloom where Gray Wolf had hidden herself. Then +he dropped the rabbit and lay down squarely in the opening. After a +little he rose restlessly and went outside. But he did not leave the +windfall. It was day when he reentered. He sniffed, as he had sniffed +once before a long time ago, between the boulders at the top of the Sun +Rock. That which was in the air was no longer a mystery to him. He came +nearer and Gray Wolf did not snarl. She whined coaxingly as he touched +her. Then his muzzle found something else. It was soft and warm and made +a queer little sniffling sound. There was a responsive whine in his +throat, and in the darkness came the quick soft caress of Gray Wolf's +tongue. Kazan returned to the sunshine and stretched himself out before +the door of the windfall. His jaws dropped open, for he was filled with +a strange contentment. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + +Robbed once of the joys of parenthood by the murder on the Sun Rock, +both Gray Wolf and Kazan were different from what they would have been +had the big gray lynx not come into their lives at that time. As if it +were but yesterday they remembered the moonlit night when the lynx +brought blindness to Gray Wolf and destroyed her young, and when Kazan +had avenged himself and his mate in his terrible fight to the death with +their enemy. And now, with that soft little handful of life snuggling +close up against her, Gray Wolf saw through her blind eyes the tragic +picture of that night more vividly than ever and she quivered at every +sound, ready to leap in the face of an unseen foe, to rend all flesh +that was not the flesh of Kazan. And ceaselessly, the slightest sound +bringing him to his feet, Kazan watched and guarded. He mistrusted the +moving shadows. The snapping of a twig drew back his upper lip. His +fangs gleamed menacingly when the soft air brought a strange scent. In +him, too, the memory of the Sun Rock, the death of their first young and +the blinding of Gray Wolf, had given birth to a new instinct. Not for an +instant was he off his guard. As surely as one expects the sun to rise +so did he expect that sooner or later their deadly enemy would creep on +them from out of the forest. In another hour such as this the lynx had +brought death. The lynx had brought blindness. And so day and night he +waited and watched for the lynx to come again. And woe unto any other +creature of flesh and blood that dared approach the windfall in these +first days of Gray Wolf's motherhood! + +But peace had spread its wings of sunshine and plenty over the swamp. +There were no intruders, unless the noisy whisky-jacks, the big-eyed +moose-birds, the chattering bush sparrows, and the wood-mice and ermine +could be called such. After the first day or two Kazan went more +frequently into the windfall, and though more than once he nosed +searchingly about Gray Wolf he could find only the one little pup. A +little farther west the Dog-Ribs would have called the pup Ba-ree for +two reasons--because he had no brothers or sisters, and because he was a +mixture of dog and wolf. He was a sleek and lively little fellow from +the beginning, for there was no division of mother strength and +attention. He developed with the true swiftness of the wolf-whelp, and +not with the slowness of the dog-pup. + +For three days he was satisfied to cuddle close against his mother, +feeding when he was hungry, sleeping a great deal and preened and +laundered almost constantly by Gray Wolf's affectionate tongue. From the +fourth day he grew busier and more inquisitive with every hour. He found +his mother's blind face, with tremendous effort he tumbled over her +paws, and once he lost himself completely and sniffled for help when he +rolled fifteen or eighteen inches away from her. It was not long after +this that he began to recognize Kazan as a part of his mother, and he +was scarcely more than a week old when he rolled himself up contentedly +between Kazan's forelegs and went to sleep. Kazan was puzzled. Then +with a deep sigh Gray Wolf laid her head across one of her mate's +forelegs, with her nose touching her runaway baby, and seemed vastly +contented. For half an hour Kazan did not move. + +When he was ten days old Ba-ree discovered there was great sport in +tussling with a bit of rabbit fur. It was a little later when he made +his second exciting discovery--light and sunshine. The sun had now +reached a point where in the middle of the afternoon a bright gleam of +it found its way through an overhead opening in the windfall. At first +Ba-ree would only stare at the golden streak. Then came the time when he +tried to play with it as he played with the rabbit fur. Each day +thereafter he went a little nearer the opening through which Kazan +passed from the windfall into the big world outside. Finally came the +time when he reached the opening and crouched there, blinking and +frightened at what he saw, and now Gray Wolf no longer tried to hold him +back but went out into the sunshine and tried to call him to her. It was +three days before his weak eyes had grown strong enough to permit his +following her, and very quickly after that Ba-ree learned to love the +sun, the warm air, and the sweetness of life, and to dread the darkness +of the closed-in den where he had been born. + +That this world was not altogether so nice as it at first appeared he +was very soon to learn. At the darkening signs of an approaching storm +one day Gray Wolf tried to lure him back under the windfall. It was her +first warning to Ba-ree and he did not understand. Where Gray Wolf +failed, nature came to teach a first lesson. Ba-ree was caught in a +sudden deluge of rain. It flattened him out in pure terror and he was +drenched and half drowned before Gray Wolf caught him between her jaws +and carried him into shelter. One by one after this the first strange +experiences of life came to him, and one by one his instincts received +their birth. Greatest for him of the days to follow was that on which +his inquisitive nose touched the raw flesh of a freshly killed and +bleeding rabbit. It was his first taste of blood. It was sweet. It +filled him with a strange excitement and thereafter he knew what it +meant when Kazan brought in something between his jaws. He soon began +to battle with sticks in place of the soft fur and his teeth grew as +hard and as sharp as little needles. + +The Great Mystery was bared to him at last when Kazan brought in between +his jaws, a big rabbit that was still alive but so badly crushed that it +could not run when dropped to the ground. Ba-ree had learned to know +what rabbits and partridges meant--the sweet warm blood that he loved +better even than he had ever loved his mother's milk. But they had come +to him dead. He had never seen one of the monsters alive. And now the +rabbit that Kazan dropped to the ground, kicking and struggling with a +broken back, sent Ba-ree back appalled. For a few moments he wonderingly +watched the dying throes of Kazan's prey. Both Kazan and Gray Wolf +seemed to understand that this was to be Ba-ree's first lesson in his +education as a slaying and flesh-eating creature, and they stood close +over the rabbit, making no effort to end its struggles. Half a dozen +times Gray Wolf sniffed at the rabbit and then turned her blind face +toward Ba-ree. After the third or fourth time Kazan stretched himself +out on his belly a few feet away and watched the proceedings +attentively. Each time that Gray Wolf lowered her head to muzzle the +rabbit Ba-ree's little ears shot up expectantly. When he saw that +nothing happened and that his mother was not hurt he came a little +nearer. Soon he could reach out, stiff-legged and cautious, and touch +the furry thing that was not yet dead. + +In a last spasmodic convulsion the big rabbit doubled up its rear legs +and gave a kick that sent Ba-ree sprawling back, yelping in terror. He +regained his feet and then, for the first time, anger and the desire to +retaliate took possession of him. The kick had completed his first +education. He came back with less caution, but stiffer-legged, and a +moment later had dug his tiny teeth in the rabbit's neck. He could feel +the throb of life in the soft body, the muscles of the dying rabbit +twitched convulsively under him, and he hung with his teeth until there +was no longer a tremor of life in his first kill. Gray Wolf was +delighted. She caressed Ba-ree with her tongue, and even Kazan +condescended to sniff approvingly of his son when he returned to the +rabbit. And never before had warm sweet blood tasted so good to Ba-ree +as it did to-day. + +Swiftly Ba-ree developed from a blood-tasting into a flesh-eating +animal. One by one the mysteries of life were unfolded to him--the +mating-night chortle of the gray owl, the crash of a falling tree, the +roll of thunder, the rush of running water, the scream of a fisher-cat, +the mooing of the cow moose, and the distant call of his tribe. But +chief of all these mysteries that were already becoming a part of his +instinct was the mystery of scent. One day he wandered fifty yards away +from the windfall and his little nose touched the warm scent of a +rabbit. Instantly, without reasoning or further process of education, he +knew that to get at the sweet flesh and blood which he loved he must +follow the scent. He wriggled slowly along the trail until he came to a +big log, over which the rabbit had vaulted in a long leap, and from this +log he turned back. Each day after this he went on adventures of his +own. At first he was like an explorer without a compass in a vast and +unknown world. Each day he encountered something new, always wonderful, +frequently terrifying. But his terrors grew less and less and his +confidence correspondingly greater. As he found that none of the things +he feared did him any harm he became more and more bold in his +investigations. And his appearance was changing, as well as his view of +things. His round roly-poly body was taking a different form. He became +lithe and quick. The yellow of his coat darkened, and there was a +whitish-gray streak along his back like that along Kazan's. He had his +mother's under-throat and her beautiful grace of head. Otherwise he was +a true son of Kazan. His limbs gave signs of future strength and +massiveness. He was broad across the chest. His eyes were wide apart, +with a little red in the lower corners. The forest people know what to +expect of husky pups who early develop that drop of red. It is a warning +that they are born of the wild and that their mothers, or fathers, are +of the savage hunt-packs. In Ba-ree that tinge of red was so pronounced +that it could mean but one thing. While he was almost half dog, the wild +had claimed him forever. + +Not until the day of his first real battle with a living creature did +Ba-ree come fully into his inheritance. He had gone farther than usual +from the windfall--fully a hundred yards. Here he found a new wonder. It +was the creek. He had heard it before and he had looked down on it from +afar--from a distance of fifty yards at least. But to-day he ventured +going to the edge of it, and there he stood for a long time, with the +water rippling and singing at his feet, gazing across it into the new +world that he saw. Then he moved cautiously along the stream. He had not +gone a dozen steps when there was a furious fluttering close to him, and +one of the fierce big-eyed jays of the Northland was directly in his +path. It could not fly. One of its wings dragged, probably broken in a +struggle with some one of the smaller preying beasts. But for an instant +it was a most startling and defiant bit of life to Ba-ree. + +Then the grayish crest along his back stiffened and he advanced. The +wounded jay remained motionless until Ba-ree was within three feet of +it. In short quick hops it began to retreat. Instantly Ba-ree's +indecision had flown to the four winds. With one sharp excited yelp he +flew at the defiant bird. For a few moments there was a thrilling race, +and Ba-ree's sharp little teeth buried themselves in the jay's feathers. +Swift as a flash the bird's beak began to strike. The jay was the king +of the smaller birds. In nesting season it killed the brush sparrows, +the mild-eyed moose-birds, and the tree-sappers. Again and again it +struck Ba-ree with its powerful beak, but the son of Kazan had now +reached the age of battle and the pain of the blows only made his own +teeth sink deeper. At last he found the flesh; and a puppyish snarl rose +in his throat. Fortunately he had gained a hold under the wing and after +the first dozen blows the jay's resistance grew weaker. Five minutes +later Ba-ree loosened his teeth and drew back a step to look at the +crumpled and motionless creature before him. The jay was dead. He had +won his first battle. And with victory came the wonderful dawning of +that greatest instinct of all, which told him that no longer was he a +drone in the marvelous mechanism of wilderness life--but a part of it +from this time forth. _For he had killed_. + +Half an hour later Gray Wolf came down over his trail. The jay was torn +into bits. Its feathers were scattered about and Ba-ree's little nose +was bloody. Ba-ree was lying in triumph beside his victim. Swiftly Gray +Wolf understood and caressed him joyously. When they returned to the +windfall Ba-ree carried in his jaws what was left of the jay. + +From that hour of his first kill hunting became the chief passion of +Ba-ree's life. When he was not sleeping in the sun, or under the +windfall at night, he was seeking life that he could destroy. He +slaughtered an entire family of wood-mice. Moose-birds were at first the +easiest for him to stalk, and he killed three. Then he encountered an +ermine and the fierce little white outlaw of the forests gave him his +first defeat. Defeat cooled his ardor for a few days, but taught him the +great lesson that there were other fanged and flesh-eating animals +besides himself and that nature had so schemed things that fang must not +prey upon fang--_for food_. Many things had been born in him. +Instinctively he shunned the porcupine without experiencing the torture +of its quills. He came face to face with a fisher-cat one day, a +fortnight after his fight with the ermine. Both were seeking food, and +as there was no food between them to fight over, each went his own way. + +Farther and farther Ba-ree ventured from the windfall, always following +the creek. Sometimes he was gone for hours. At first Gray Wolf was +restless when he was away, but she seldom went with him and after a time +her restlessness left her. Nature was working swiftly. It was Kazan who +was restless now. Moonlight nights had come and the wanderlust was +growing more and more insistent in his veins. And Gray Wolf, too, was +filled with the strange longing to roam at large out into the big world. + +Came then the afternoon when Ba-ree went on his longest hunt. Half a +mile away he killed his first rabbit. He remained beside it until dusk. +The moon rose, big and golden, flooding the forests and plains and +ridges with a light almost like that of day. It was a glorious night. +And Ba-ree found the moon, and left his kill. And the direction in +which he traveled _was away from the windfall_. + +All that night Gray Wolf watched and waited. And when at last the moon +was sinking into the south and west she settled back on her haunches, +turned her blind face to the sky and sent forth her first howl since the +day Ba-ree was born. Nature had come into her own. Far away Ba-ree +heard, but he did not answer. A new world was his. He had said good-by +to the windfall--and home. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE USURPERS + + +It was that glorious season between spring and summer, when the northern +nights were brilliant with moon and stars, that Kazan and Gray Wolf set +up the valley between the two ridges on a long hunt. It was the +beginning of that _wanderlust_ which always comes to the furred and +padded creatures of the wilderness immediately after the young-born of +early spring have left their mothers to find their own way in the big +world. They struck west from their winter home under the windfall in the +swamp. They hunted mostly at night and behind them they left a trail +marked by the partly eaten carcasses of rabbits and partridges. It was +the season of slaughter and not of hunger. Ten miles west of the swamp +they killed a fawn. This, too, they left after a single meal. Their +appetites became satiated with warm flesh and blood. They grew sleek and +fat and each day they basked longer in the warm sunshine. They had few +rivals. The lynxes were in the heavier timber to the south. There were +no wolves. Fisher-cat, marten and mink were numerous along the creek, +but these were neither swift-hunting nor long-fanged. One day they came +upon an old otter. He was a giant of his kind, turning a whitish gray +with the approach of summer. Kazan, grown fat and lazy, watched him +idly. Blind Gray Wolf sniffed at the fishy smell of him in the air. To +them he was no more than a floating stick, a creature out of their +element, along with the fish, and they continued on their way not +knowing that this uncanny creature with the coal-like flappers was soon +to become their ally in one of the strange and deadly feuds of the +wilderness, which are as sanguinary to animal life as the deadliest +feuds of men are to human life. + +The day following their meeting with the otter Gray Wolf and Kazan +continued three miles farther westward, still following the stream. Here +they encountered the interruption to their progress which turned them +over the northward ridge. The obstacle was a huge beaver dam. The dam +was two hundred yards in width and flooded a mile of swamp and timber +above it. Neither Gray Wolf nor Kazan was deeply interested in beavers. +They also moved out of their element, along with the fish and the otter +and swift-winged birds. + +So they turned into the north, not knowing that nature had already +schemed that they four--the dog, wolf, otter and beaver--should soon be +engaged in one of those merciless struggles of the wild which keep +animal life down to the survival of the fittest, and whose tragic +histories are kept secret under the stars and the moon and the winds +that tell no tales. + +For many years no man had come into this valley between the two ridges +to molest the beaver. If a Sarcee trapper had followed down the nameless +creek and had caught the patriarch and chief of the colony, he would at +once have judged him to be very old and his Indian tongue would have +given him a name. He would have called him Broken Tooth, because one of +the four long teeth with which he felled trees and built dams was broken +off. Six years before Broken Tooth had led a few beavers of his own age +down the stream, and they had built their first small dam and their +first lodge. The following April Broken Tooth's mate had four little +baby beavers, and each of the other mothers in the colony increased the +population by two or three or four. At the end of the fourth year this +first generation of children, had they followed the usual law of nature, +would have mated and left the colony to build a dam and lodges of their +own. They mated, but did not emigrate. + +The next year the second generation of children, now four years old, +mated but did not leave, so that in this early summer of the sixth year +the colony was very much like a great city that had been long besieged +by an enemy. It numbered fifteen lodges and over a hundred beavers, not +counting the fourth babies which had been born during March and April. +The dam had been lengthened until it was fully two hundred yards in +length. Water had been made to flood large areas of birch and poplar and +tangled swamps of tender willow and elder. Even with this food was +growing scarce and the lodges were overcrowded. This was because +beavers are almost human in their love for home. Broken Tooth's lodge +was fully nine feet long by seven wide inside, and there were now living +in it children and grandchildren to the number of twenty-seven. For this +reason Broken Tooth was preparing to break the precedent of his tribe. +When Kazan and Gray Wolf sniffed carelessly at the strong scents of the +beaver city, Broken Tooth was marshaling his family, and two of his sons +and their families, for the exodus. + +As yet Broken Tooth was the recognized leader in the colony. No other +beaver had grown to his size and strength. His thick body was fully +three feet long. He weighed at least sixty pounds. His tail was fourteen +inches in length and five in width, and on a still night he could strike +the water a blow that could be heard a quarter of a mile away. His +webbed hindfeet were twice as large as his mate's and he was easily the +swiftest swimmer in the colony. + +Following the afternoon when Gray Wolf and Kazan struck into the north +came the clear still night when Broken Tooth climbed to the top of the +dam, shook himself, and looked down to see that his army was behind +him. The starlit water of the big pond rippled and flashed with the +movement of many bodies. A few of the older beavers clambered up after +Broken Tooth and the old patriarch plunged down into the narrow stream +on the other side of the dam. Now the shining silken bodies of the +emigrants followed him in the starlight. In ones and twos and threes +they climbed over the dam and with them went a dozen children born three +months before. Easily and swiftly they began the journey down-stream, +the youngsters swimming furiously to keep up with their parents. In all +they numbered forty. Broken Tooth swam well in the lead, with his older +workers and battlers behind him. In the rear followed mothers and +children. + +All of that night the journey continued. The otter, their deadliest +enemy--deadlier even than man--hid himself in a thick clump of willows +as they passed. Nature, which sometimes sees beyond the vision of man, +had made him the enemy of these creatures that were passing his +hiding-place in the night. A fish-feeder, he was born to be a conserver +as well as a destroyer of the creatures on which he fed. Perhaps nature +told him that too many beaver dams stopped the run of spawning fish and +that where there were many beavers there were always few fish. Maybe he +reasoned as to why fish-hunting was poor and he went hungry. So, unable +to cope singly with whole tribes of his enemies, he worked to destroy +their dams. How this, in turn, destroyed the beavers will be seen in the +feud in which nature had already schemed that he should play a part with +Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +A dozen times during this night Broken Tooth halted to investigate the +food supplies along the banks. But in the two or three places where he +found plenty of the bark on which they lived it would have been +difficult to have constructed a dam. His wonderful engineering instincts +rose even above food instincts. And when each time he moved onward, no +beaver questioned his judgment by remaining behind. In the early dawn +they crossed the burn and came to the edge of the swamp domain of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. By right of discovery and possession that swamp belonged +to the dog and the wolf. In every part of it they had left their mark of +ownership. But Broken Tooth was a creature of the water and the scent of +his tribe was not keen. He led on, traveling more slowly when they +entered the timber. Just below the windfall home of Kazan and Gray Wolf +he halted, and clambering ashore balanced himself upright on his webbed +hindfeet and broad four-pound tail. Here he had found ideal conditions. +A dam could be constructed easily across the narrow stream, and the +water could be made to flood a big supply of poplar, birch, willow and +alder. Also the place was sheltered by heavy timber, so that the winters +would be warm. Broken Tooth quickly gave his followers to understand +that this was to be their new home. On both sides of the stream they +swarmed into the near-by timber. The babies began at once to nibble +hungrily at the tender bark of willow and alder. The older ones, every +one of them now a working engineer, investigated excitedly, breakfasting +by nibbling off a mouthful of bark now and then. + +That day the work of home-building began. Broken Tooth himself selected +a big birch that leaned over the stream, and began the work of cutting +through the ten-inch butt with his three long teeth. Though the old +patriarch had lost one tooth, the three that remained had not +deteriorated with age. The outer edge of them was formed of the hardest +enamel; the inner side was of soft ivory. They were like the finest +steel chisels, the enamel never wearing away and the softer ivory +replacing itself year by year as it was consumed. Sitting on his +hindlegs, with his forepaws resting against the tree and with his heavy +tail giving him a firm balance, Broken Tooth began gnawing a narrow ring +entirely around the tree. He worked tirelessly for several hours, and +when at last he stopped to rest another workman took up the task. +Meanwhile a dozen beavers were hard at work cutting timber. Long before +Broken Tooth's tree was ready to fall across the stream, a smaller +poplar crashed into the water. The cutting on the big birch was in the +shape of an hour-glass. In twenty hours it fell straight across the +creek. While the beaver prefers to do most of his work at night he is a +day-laborer as well, and Broken Tooth gave his tribe but little rest +during the days that followed. With almost human intelligence the little +engineers kept at their task. Smaller trees were felled, and these were +cut into four or five foot lengths. One by one these lengths were rolled +to the stream, the beavers pushing them with their heads and forepaws, +and by means of brush and small limbs they were fastened securely +against the birch. When the framework was completed the wonderful cement +construction was begun. In this the beavers were the masters of men. +Dynamite was the only force that could hereafter break up what they were +building now. Under their cup-like chins the beavers brought from the +banks a mixture of mud and fine twigs, carrying from half a pound to a +pound at a load and began filling up the framework with it. Their task +seemed tremendous, and yet Broken Tooth's engineers could carry a ton of +this mud and twig mixture during a day and night. In three days the +water was beginning to back, until it rose about the butts of a dozen or +more trees and was flooding a small area of brush. This made work +easier. From now on materials could be cut in the water and easily +floated. While a part of the beaver colony was taking advantage of the +water, others were felling trees end to end with the birch, laying the +working frame of a dam a hundred feet in width. + +They had nearly accomplished this work when one morning Kazan and Gray +Wolf returned to the swamp. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + +A soft wind blowing from the south and east brought the scent of the +invaders to Gray Wolf's nose when they were still half a mile away. She +gave the warning to Kazan and he, too, found the strange scent in the +air. It grew stronger as they advanced. When two hundred yards from the +windfall they heard the sudden crash of a falling tree, and stopped. For +a full minute they stood tense and listening. Then the silence was +broken by a squeaking cry, followed by a splash. Gray Wolf's alert ears +fell back and she turned her blind face understandingly toward Kazan. +They trotted ahead slowly, approaching the windfall from behind. Not +until they had reached the top of the knoll on which it was situated did +Kazan begin to see the wonderful change that had taken place during +their absence. Astounded, they stood while he stared. There was no +longer a little creek below them. Where it had been was a pond that +reached almost to the foot of the knoll. It was fully a hundred feet in +width and the backwater had flooded the trees and bush for five or six +times that distance toward the burn. They had come up quietly and Broken +Tooth's dull-scented workers were unaware of their presence. Not fifty +feet away Broken Tooth himself was gnawing at the butt of a tree. An +equal distance to the right of him four or five of the baby beavers were +at play building a miniature dam of mud and tiny twigs. On the opposite +side of the pond was a steep bank six or seven feet high, and here a few +of the older children--two years old, but still not workmen--were having +great fun climbing the bank and using it as a toboggan-slide. It was +their splashing that Kazan and Gray Wolf had heard. In a dozen different +places the older beavers were at work. + +A few weeks before Kazan had looked upon a similar scene when he had +returned into the north from Broken Tooth's old home. It had not +interested him then. But a quick and thrilling change swept through him +now. The beavers had ceased to be mere water animals, uneatable and +with an odor that displeased him. They were invaders--and enemies. His +fangs bared silently. His crest stiffened like the hair of a brush, and +the muscles of his forelegs and shoulders stood out like whipcords. Not +a sound came from him as he rushed down upon Broken Tooth. The old +beaver was oblivious of danger until Kazan was within twenty feet of +him. Naturally slow of movement on land, he stood for an instant +stupefied. Then he swung down from the tree as Kazan leaped upon him. +Over and over they rolled to the edge of the bank, carried on by the +dog's momentum. In another moment the thick heavy body of the beaver had +slipped like oil from under Kazan and Broken Tooth was safe in his +element, two holes bitten clean through his fleshy tail. Baffled in his +effort to get a death-hold on Broken Tooth, Kazan swung like a flash to +the right. The young beavers had not moved. Astonished and frightened at +what they had seen, they stood as if stupefied. Not until they saw Kazan +tearing toward them did they awaken to action. Three of them reached the +water. The fourth and fifth--baby beavers not more than three months +old--were too late. With a single snap of his jaw Kazan broke the hack +of one. The other he pinned down by the throat and shook as a terrier +shakes a rat. When Gray Wolf trotted down to him both of the little +beavers were dead. She sniffed at their soft little bodies and whined. +Perhaps the baby creatures reminded her of runaway Ba-ree, her own baby, +for there was a note of longing in her whine as she nosed them. It was +the mother whine. + +But if Gray Wolf had visions of her own Kazan understood nothing of +them. He had killed two of the creatures that had dared to invade their +home. To the little beavers he had been as merciless as the gray lynx +that had murdered Gray Wolf's first children on the top of the Sun Rock. +Now that he had sunk his teeth into the flesh of his enemies his blood +was filled with a frenzied desire to kill. He raved along the edge of +the pond, snarling at the uneasy water under which Broken Tooth had +disappeared. All of the beavers had taken refuge in the pond, and its +surface was heaving with the passing of many bodies beneath. Kazan came +to the end of the dam. This was new. Instinctively he knew that it was +the work of Broken Tooth and his tribe and for a few moments he tore +fiercely at the matted sticks and limbs. Suddenly there was an upheaval +of water close to the dam, fifty feet out from the bank, and Broken +Tooth's big gray head appeared. For a tense half minute Broken Tooth and +Kazan measured each other at that distance. Then Broken Tooth drew his +wet shining body out of the water to the top of the dam, and squatted +flat, facing Kazan. The old patriarch was alone. Not another beaver had +shown himself. + +The surface of the pond had now become quiet. Vainly Kazan tried to +discover a footing that would allow him to reach the watchful invader. +But between the solid wall of the dam and the bank there was a tangled +framework through which the water rushed with some violence. Three times +Kazan fought to work his way through that tangle, and three times his +efforts ended in sudden plunges into the water. All this time Broken +Tooth did not move. When at last Kazan gave up the attack the old +engineer slipped over the edge of the dam and disappeared under the +water. He had learned that Kazan, like the lynx, could not fight water +and he spread the news among the members of his colony. + +Gray Wolf and Kazan returned to the windfall and lay down in the warm +sun. Half an hour later Broken Tooth drew himself out on the opposite +shore of the pond. He was followed by other beavers. Across the water +they resumed their work as if nothing had happened. The tree-cutters +returned to their trees. Half a dozen worked in the water, carrying +loads of cement and twigs. The middle of the pond was their dead-line. +Across this not one of them passed. A dozen times during the hour that +followed one of the beavers swam up to the dead-line, and rested there, +looking at the shining little bodies of the babies that Kazan had +killed. Perhaps it was the mother, and perhaps some finer instinct +unknown to Kazan told this to Gray Wolf. For Gray Wolf went down twice +to sniff at the dead bodies, and each time--without seeing--she went +when the mother beaver had come to the dead-line. + +The first fierce animus had worn itself from Kazan's blood, and he now +watched the beavers closely. He had learned that they were not fighters. +They were many to one and yet they ran from him like a lot of rabbits. +Broken Tooth had not even struck at him, and slowly it grew upon him +that these invading creatures that used both the water and land would +have to be hunted as he stalked the rabbit and the partridge. Early in +the afternoon he slipped off into the bush, followed by Gray Wolf. He +had often begun the stalking of a rabbit by moving _away_ from it and he +employed this wolf trick now with the beavers. Beyond the windfall he +turned and began trotting up the creek, with the wind. For a quarter of +a mile the creek was deeper than it had ever been. One of their old +fording places was completely submerged, and at last Kazan plunged in +and swam across, leaving Gray Wolf to wait for him on the windfall side +of the stream. + +Alone he made his way quickly in the direction of the dam, traveling two +hundred yards back from the creek. Twenty yards below the dam a dense +thicket of alder and willow grew close to the creek and Kazan took +advantage of this. He approached within a leap or two of the dam without +being seen and crouched close to the ground, ready to spring forth when +the opportunity came. Most of the beavers were now working in the water. +The four or five still on shore were close to the water and some +distance up-stream. After a wait of several minutes Kazan was almost on +the point of staking everything on a wild rush upon his enemies when a +movement on the dam attracted his attention. Half-way out two or three +beavers were at work strengthening the central structure with cement. +Swift as a flash Kazan darted from his cover to the shelter behind the +dam. Here the water was very shallow, the main portion of the stream +finding a passage close to the opposite shore. Nowhere did it reach to +his belly as he waded out. He was completely hidden from the beavers, +and the wind was in his favor. The noise of running water drowned what +little sound he made. Soon he heard the beaver workmen over him. The +branches of the fallen birch gave him a footing, and he clambered up. + +A moment later his head and shoulders appeared above the top of the +dam. Scarce an arm's length away Broken Tooth was forcing into place a +three-foot length of poplar as big around as a man's arm. He was so busy +that he did not hear or see Kazan. Another beaver gave the warning as he +plunged into the pond. Broken Tooth looked up, and his eyes met Kazan's +bared fangs. There was no time to turn. He threw himself back, but it +was a moment too late. Kazan was upon him. His long fangs sank deep into +Broken Tooth's neck. But the old beaver had thrown himself enough back +to make Kazan lose his footing. At the same moment his chisel-like teeth +got a firm hold of the loose skin at Kazan's throat. Thus clinched, with +Kazan's long teeth buried almost to the beaver's jugular, they plunged +down into the deep water of the pond. + +Broken Tooth weighed sixty pounds. The instant he struck the water he +was in his element, and holding tenaciously to the grip he had obtained +on Kazan's neck he sank like a chunk of iron. Kazan was pulled +completely under. The water rushed into his mouth, his ears, eyes and +nose. He was blinded, and his senses were a roaring tumult. But instead +of struggling to free himself he held his breath and buried his teeth +deeper. They touched the soft bottom and for a moment floundered in the +mud. Then Kazan loosened his hold. He was fighting for his own life +now--and not for Broken Tooth's. With all of the strength of his +powerful limbs he struggled to break loose--to rise to the surface, to +fresh air, to life. He clamped his jaws shut, knowing that to breathe +was to die. On land he could have freed himself from Broken Tooth's hold +without an effort. But under water the old beaver's grip was more deadly +than would have been the fangs of a lynx ashore. There was a sudden +swirl of water as a second beaver circled close about the struggling +pair. Had he closed in with Broken Tooth, Kazan's struggles would +quickly have ceased. + +But nature had not foreseen the day when Broken Tooth would be fighting +with fang. The old patriarch had no particular reason now for holding +Kazan down. He was not vengeful. He did not thirst for blood or death. +Finding that he was free, and that this strange enemy that had twice +leaped upon him could do him no harm, he loosed his hold. It was not a +moment too soon for Kazan. He was struggling weakly when he rose to the +surface of the water. Three-quarters drowned, he succeeded in raising +his forepaws over a slender branch that projected from the dam. This +gave him time to fill his lungs with air, and to cough forth the water +that had almost ended his existence. For ten minutes he clung to the +branch before he dared attempt the short swim ashore. When he reached +the bank he dragged himself up weakly. All the strength was gone from +his body. His limbs shook. His jaws hung loose. He was beaten--completely +beaten. And a creature without a fang had worsted him. He felt the +abasement of it. Drenched and slinking, he went to the windfall, lay +down in the sun, and waited for Gray Wolf. + +Days followed in which Kazan's desire to destroy his beaver enemies +became the consuming passion of his life. Each day the dam became more +formidable. Cement work in the water was carried on by the beavers +swiftly and safely. The water in the pond rose higher each twenty-four +hours, and the pond grew steadily wider. The water had now been turned +into the depression that encircled the windfall, and in another week or +two, if the beavers continued their work, Kazan's and Gray Wolf's home +would be nothing more than a small island in the center of a wide area +of submerged swamp. + +Kazan hunted only for food now, and not for pleasure. Ceaselessly he +watched his opportunity to leap upon incautious members of Broken +Tooth's tribe. The third day after the struggle under the water he +killed a big beaver that approached too close to the willow thicket. The +fifth day two of the young beavers wandered into the flooded depression +back of the windfall and Kazan caught them in shallow water and tore +them into pieces. After these successful assaults the beavers began to +work mostly at night. This was to Kazan's advantage, for he was a +night-hunter. On each of two consecutive nights he killed a beaver. +Counting the young, he had killed seven when the otter came. + +Never had Broken Tooth been placed between two deadlier or more +ferocious enemies than the two that now assailed him. On shore Kazan +was his master because of his swiftness, keener scent, and fighting +trickery. In the water the otter was a still greater menace. He was +swifter than the fish that he caught for food. His teeth were like steel +needles. He was so sleek and slippery that it would have been impossible +for them to hold him with their chisel-like teeth could they have caught +him. The otter, like the beaver, possessed no hunger for blood. Yet in +all the Northland he was the greatest destroyer of their kind--an even +greater destroyer than man. He came and passed like a plague, and it was +in the coldest days of winter that greatest destruction came with him. +In those days he did not assault the beavers in their snug houses. He +did what man could do only with dynamite--made an embrasure through +their dam. Swiftly the water would fall, the surface ice would crash +down, and the beaver houses would be left out of water. Then followed +death for the beavers--starvation and cold. With the protecting water +gone from about their houses, the drained pond a chaotic mass of broken +ice, and the temperature forty or fifty degrees below zero, they would +die within a few hours. For the beaver, with his thick coat of fur, can +stand less cold than man. Through all the long winter the water about +his home is as necessary to him as fire to a child. + +But it was summer now and Broken Tooth and his colony had no very great +fear of the otter. It would cost them some labor to repair the damage he +did, but there was plenty of food and it was warm. For two days the +otter frisked about the dam and the deep water of the pond. Kazan took +him for a beaver, and tried vainly to stalk him. The otter regarded +Kazan suspiciously and kept well out of his way. Neither knew that the +other was an ally. Meanwhile the beavers continued their work with +greater caution. The water in the pond had now risen to a point where +the engineers had begun the construction of three lodges. On the third +day the destructive instinct of the otter began its work. He began to +examine the dam, close down to the foundation. It was not long before he +found a weak spot to begin work on, and with his sharp teeth and small +bullet-like head he commenced his drilling operations. Inch by inch he +worked his way through the dam, burrowing and gnawing over and under the +timbers, and always through the cement. The round hole he made was fully +seven inches in diameter. In six hours he had cut it through the +five-foot base of the dam. + +A torrent of water began to rush from the pond as if forced out by a +hydraulic pump. Kazan and Gray Wolf were hiding in the willows on the +south side of the pond when this happened. They heard the roar of the +stream tearing through the embrasure and Kazan saw the otter crawl up to +the top of the dam and shake himself like a huge water-rat. Within +thirty minutes the water in the pond had fallen perceptibly, and the +force of the water pouring through the hole was constantly increasing +the outlet. In another half hour the foundations of the three lodges, +which had been laid in about ten inches of water, stood on mud. Not +until Broken Tooth discovered that the water was receding from the +houses did he take alarm. He was thrown into a panic, and very soon +every beaver in the colony tearing excitedly about the pond. They swam +swiftly from shore to shore, paying no attention to the dead-line now. +Broken Tooth and the older workmen made for the dam, and with a snarling +cry the otter plunged down among them and out like a flash for the creek +above the pond. Swiftly the water continued to fall and as it fell the +excitement of the beavers increased. They forgot Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +Several of the younger members of the colony drew themselves ashore on +the windfall side of the pond, and whining softly Kazan was about to +slip back through the willows when one of the older beavers waddled up +through the deepening mud close on his ambush. In two leaps Kazan was +upon him, with Gray Wolf a leap behind him. The short fierce struggle in +the mud was seen by the other beavers and they crossed swiftly to the +opposite side of the pond. The water had receded to a half of its +greatest width before Broken Tooth and his workmen discovered the breach +in the wall of the dam. The work of repair was begun at once. For this +work sticks and brush of considerable size were necessary, and to reach +this material the beavers were compelled to drag their heavy bodies +through the ten or fifteen yards of soft mud left by the falling water. +Peril of fang no longer kept them back. Instinct told them that they +were fighting for their existence--that if the embrasure were not filled +up and the water kept in the pond they would very soon be completely +exposed to their enemies. It was a day of slaughter for Gray Wolf and +Kazan. They killed two more beavers in the mud close to the willows. +Then they crossed the creek below the dam and cut off three beavers in +the depression behind the windfall. There was no escape for these three. +They were torn into pieces. Farther up the creek Kazan caught a young +beaver and killed it. + +Late in the afternoon the slaughter ended. Broken Tooth and his +courageous engineers had at last repaired the breach, and the water in +the pond began to rise. + +Half a mile up the creek the big otter was squatted on a log basking in +the last glow of the setting sun. To-morrow he would go and do over +again his work of destruction. That was his method. For him it was play. + +But that strange and unseen arbiter of the forests called O-ee-ki, "the +Spirit," by those who speak the wild tongue, looked down at last with +mercy upon Broken Tooth and his death-stricken tribe. For in that last +glow of sunset Kazan and Gray Wolf slipped stealthily up the creek--to +find the otter basking half asleep on the log. + +The day's work, a full stomach, and the pool of warm sunlight in which +he lay had all combined to make the otter sleepy. He was as motionless +as the log on which he had stretched himself. He was big and gray and +old. For ten years he had lived to prove his cunning superior to that of +man. Vainly traps had been set for him. Wily trappers had built narrow +sluice-ways of rock and tree in small streams for him, but the old otter +had foiled their cunning and escaped the steel jaws waiting at the lower +end of each sluice. The trail he left in soft mud told of his size. A +few trappers had seen him. His soft pelt would long ago have found its +way to London, Paris or Berlin had it not been for his cunning. He was +fit for a princess, a duke or an emperor. For ten years he had lived +and escaped the demands of the rich. + +But this was summer. No trapper would have killed him now, for his pelt +was worthless. Nature and instinct both told him this. At this season he +did not dread man, for there was no man to dread. So he lay asleep on +the log, oblivious to everything but the comfort of sleep and the warmth +of the sun. + +Soft-footed, searching still for signs of the furry enemies who had +invaded their domain, Kazan slipped along the creek. Gray Wolf ran close +at his shoulder. They made no sound, and the wind was in their +favor--bringing scents toward them. It brought the otter smell. To Kazan +and Gray Wolf it was the scent of a water animal, rank and fishy, and +they took it for the beaver. They advanced still more cautiously. Then +Kazan saw the big otter asleep on the log and he gave the warning to +Gray Wolf. She stopped, standing with her head thrown up, while Kazan +made his stealthy advance. The otter stirred uneasily. It was growing +dusk. The golden pool of sunlight had faded away. Back in the darkening +timber an owl greeted night with its first-low call. The otter breathed +deeply. His whiskered muzzle twitched. He was awakening--stirring--when +Kazan leaped upon him. Face to face, in fair fight, the old otter could +have given a good account of himself. But there was no chance now. The +wild itself had for the first time in his life become his deadliest +enemy. It was not man now--but O-ee-ki, "the Spirit," that had laid its +hand upon him. And from the Spirit there was no escape. Kazan's fangs +sank into his soft jugular. Perhaps he died without knowing what it was +that had leaped upon him. For he died--quickly, and Kazan and Gray Wolf +went on their way, hunting still for enemies to slaughter, and not +knowing that in the otter they had killed the one ally who would have +driven the beavers from their swamp home. + +The days that followed grew more and more hopeless for Kazan and Gray +Wolf. With the otter gone Broken Tooth and his tribe held the winning +hand. Each day the water backed a little farther into the depression +surrounding the windfall. By the middle of July only a narrow strip of +land connected the windfall hummock with the dry land of the swamp. In +deep water the beavers now worked unmolested. Inch by inch the water +rose, until there came the day when it began to overflow the connecting +strip. For the last time Kazan and Gray Wolf passed from their windfall +home and traveled up the stream between the two ridges. The creek held a +new meaning for them now and as they traveled they sniffed its odors and +listened to its sounds with an interest they had never known before. It +was an interest mingled a little with fear, for something in the manner +in which the beavers had beaten them reminded Kazan and Gray Wolf of +_man_. And that night, when in the radiance of the big white moon they +came within scent of the beaver colony that Broken Tooth had left, they +turned quickly northward into the plains. Thus had brave old Broken +Tooth taught them to respect the flesh and blood and handiwork of his +tribe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + +July and August of 1911 were months of great fires in the Northland. The +swamp home of Kazan and Gray Wolf, and the green valley between the two +ridges, had escaped the seas of devastating flame; but now, as they set +forth on their wandering adventures again, it was not long before their +padded feet came in contact with the seared and blackened desolation +that had followed so closely after the plague and starvation of the +preceding winter. In his humiliation and defeat, after being driven from +his swamp home by the beavers, Kazan led his blind mate first into the +south. Twenty miles beyond the ridge they struck the fire-killed +forests. Winds from Hudson's Bay had driven the flames in an unbroken +sea into the west, and they had left not a vestige of life or a patch of +green. Blind Gray Wolf could not see the blackened world, but she +_sensed_ it. It recalled to her memory of that other fire, after the +battle on the Sun Rock; and all of her wonderful instincts, sharpened +and developed by her blindness, told her that to the north--and not +south--lay the hunting-grounds they were seeking. The strain of dog that +was in Kazan still pulled him south. It was not because he sought man, +for to man he had now become as deadly an enemy as Gray Wolf herself. It +was simply dog instinct to travel southward; in the face of fire it was +wolf instinct to travel northward. At the end of the third day Gray Wolf +won. They recrossed the little valley between the two ridges, and swung +north and west into the Athabasca country, striking a course that would +ultimately bring them to the headwaters of the McFarlane River. + +Late in the preceding autumn a prospector had come up to Fort Smith, on +the Slave River, with a pickle bottle filled with gold dust and nuggets. +He had made the find on the McFarlane. The first mails had taken the +news to the outside world, and by midwinter the earliest members of a +treasure-hunting horde were rushing into the country by snow-shoe and +dog-sledge. Other finds came thick and fast. The McFarlane was rich in +free gold, and miners by the score staked out their claims along it and +began work. Latecomers swung to new fields farther north and east, and +to Fort Smith came rumors of "finds" richer than those of the Yukon. A +score of men at first--then a hundred, five hundred, a thousand--rushed +into the new country. Most of these were from the prairie countries to +the south, and from the placer beds of the Saskatchewan and the Frazer. +From the far North, traveling by way of the Mackenzie and the Liard, +came a smaller number of seasoned prospectors and adventurers from the +Yukon--men who knew what it meant to starve and freeze and die by +inches. + +One of these late comers was Sandy McTrigger. There were several reasons +why Sandy had left the Yukon. He was "in bad" with the police who +patrolled the country west of Dawson, and he was "broke." In spite of +these facts he was one of the best prospectors that had ever followed +the shores of the Klondike. He had made discoveries running up to a +million or two, and had promptly lost them through gambling and drink. +He had no conscience, and little fear. Brutality was the chief thing +written in his face. His undershot jaw, his wide eyes, low forehead and +grizzly mop of red hair proclaimed him at once as a man not to be +trusted beyond one's own vision or the reach of a bullet. It was +suspected that he had killed a couple of men, and robbed others, but as +yet the police had failed to get anything "on" him. But along with this +bad side of him, Sandy McTrigger possessed a coolness and a courage +which even his worst enemies could not but admire, and also certain +mental depths which his unpleasant features did not proclaim. + +Inside of six months Red Gold City had sprung up on the McFarlane, a +hundred and fifty miles from Fort Smith, and Fort Smith was five hundred +miles from civilization. When Sandy came he looked over the crude +collection of shacks, gambling houses and saloons in the new town, and +made up his mind that the time was not ripe for any of his "inside" +schemes just yet. He gambled a little, and won sufficient to buy himself +grub and half an outfit. A feature of this outfit was an old +muzzle-loading rifle. Sandy, who always carried the latest Savage on +the market, laughed at it. But it was the best his finances would allow +of. He started south--up the McFarlane. Beyond a certain point on the +river prospectors had found no gold. Sandy pushed confidently _beyond_ +this point. Not until he was in new country did he begin his search. +Slowly he worked his way up a small tributary whose headwaters were +fifty or sixty miles to the south and east. Here and there he found +fairly good placer gold. He might have panned six or eight dollars' +worth a day. With this much he was disgusted. Week after week he +continued to work his way up-stream, and the farther he went the poorer +his pans became. At last only occasionally did he find colors. After +such disgusting weeks as these Sandy was dangerous--when in the company +of others. Alone he was harmless. + +One afternoon he ran his canoe ashore on a white strip of sand. This was +at a bend, where the stream had widened, and gave promise of at least a +few colors. He had bent down close to the edge of the water when +something caught his attention on the wet sand. What he saw were the +footprints of animals. Two had come down to drink. They had stood side +by side. And the footprints were fresh--made not more than an hour or +two before. A gleam of interest shot into Sandy's eyes. He looked behind +him, and up and down the stream. + +"Wolves," he grunted. "Wish I could 'a' shot at 'em with that old +minute-gun back there. Gawd--listen to that! And in broad daylight, +too!" + +He jumped to his feet, staring off into the bush. + +A quarter of a mile away Gray Wolf had caught the dreaded scent of man +in the wind, and was giving voice to her warning. It was a long wailing +howl, and not until its last echoes had died away did Sandy McTrigger +move. Then he returned to the canoe, took out his old gun, put a fresh +cap on the nipple and disappeared quickly over the edge of the bank. + +For a week Kazan and Gray Wolf had been wandering about the headwaters +of the McFarlane and this was the first time since the preceding winter +that Gray Wolf had caught the scent of man in the air. When the wind +brought the danger-signal to her she was alone. Two or three minutes +before the scent came to her Kazan had left her side in swift pursuit of +a snow-shoe rabbit, and she lay flat on her belly under a bush, waiting +for him. In these moments when she was alone Gray Wolf was constantly +sniffing the air. Blindness had developed her scent and hearing until +they were next to infallible. First she had heard the rattle of Sandy +McTrigger's paddle against the side of his canoe a quarter of a mile +away. Scent had followed swiftly. Five minutes after her warning howl +Kazan stood at her side, his head flung up, his jaws open and panting. +Sandy had hunted Arctic foxes, and he was using the Eskimo tactics now, +swinging in a half-circle until he should come up in the face of the +wind. Kazan caught a single whiff of the man-tainted air and his spine +grew stiff. But blind Gray Wolf was keener than the little red-eyed fox +of the North. Her pointed nose slowly followed Sandy's progress. She +heard a dry stick crack under his feet three hundred yards away. She +caught the metallic click of his gun-barrel as it struck a birch +sapling. The moment she lost Sandy in the wind she whined and rubbed +herself against Kazan and trotted a few steps to the southwest. + +At times such as this Kazan seldom refused to take guidance from her. +They trotted away side by side and by the time Sandy was creeping up +snake-like with the wind in his face, Kazan was peering from the fringe +of river brush down upon the canoe on the white strip of sand. When +Sandy returned, after an hour of futile stalking, two fresh tracks led +straight down to the canoe. He looked at them in amazement and then a +sinister grin wrinkled his ugly face. He chuckled as he went to his kit +and dug out a small rubber bag. From this he drew a tightly corked +bottle, filled with gelatine capsules. In each little capsule were five +grains of strychnine. There were dark hints that once upon a time Sandy +McTrigger had tried one of these capsules by dropping it in a cup of +coffee and giving it to a man, but the police had never proved it. He +was expert in the use of poison. Probably he had killed a thousand foxes +in his time, and he chuckled again as he counted out a dozen of the +capsules and thought how easy it would be to get this inquisitive pair +of wolves. Two or three days before he had killed a caribou, and each of +the capsules he now rolled up in a little ball of deer fat, doing the +work with short sticks in place of his fingers, so that there would be +no man-smell clinging to the death-baits. Before sundown Sandy set out +at right-angles over the plain, planting the baits. Most of them he hung +to low bushes. Others he dropped in worn rabbit and caribou trails. Then +he returned to the creek and cooked his supper. + +Then next morning he was up early, and off to the poison baits. The +first bait was untouched. The second was as he had planted it. The third +was gone. A thrill shot through Sandy as he looked about him. Somewhere +within a radius of two or three hundred yards he would find his game. +Then his glance fell to the ground under the bush where he had hung the +poison capsule and an oath broke from his lips. The bait had not been +eaten. The caribou fat lay scattered under the bush and still imbedded +in the largest portion of it was the little white capsule--unbroken. It +was Sandy's first experience with a wild creature whose instincts were +sharpened by blindness, and he was puzzled. He had never known this to +happen before. If a fox or a wolf could be lured to the point of +touching a bait, it followed that the bait was eaten. Sandy went on to +the fourth and the fifth baits. They were untouched. The sixth was torn +to pieces, like the third. In this instance the capsule was broken and +the white powder scattered. Two more poison baits Sandy found pulled +down in this manner. He knew that Kazan and Gray Wolf had done the work, +for he found the marks of their feet in a dozen different places. The +accumulated bad humor of weeks of futile labor found vent in his +disappointment and anger. At last he had found something tangible to +curse. The failure of his poison baits he accepted as a sort of climax +to his general bad luck. Everything was against him, he believed, and he +made up his mind to return to Red Gold City. Early in the afternoon he +launched his canoe and drifted down-stream with the current. He was +content to let the current do all of the work to-day, and he used his +paddle just enough to keep his slender craft head on. He leaned back +comfortably and smoked his pipe, with the old rifle between his knees. +The wind was in his face and he kept a sharp watch for game. + +It was late in the afternoon when Kazan and Gray Wolf came out on a +sand-bar five or six miles down-stream. Kazan was lapping up the cool +water when Sandy drifted quietly around a bend a hundred yards above +them. If the wind had been right, or if Sandy had been using his paddle, +Gray Wolf would have detected danger. It was the metallic click-click of +the old-fashioned lock of Sandy's rifle that awakened her to a sense of +peril. Instantly she was thrilled by the nearness of it. Kazan heard the +sound and stopped drinking to face it. In that moment Sandy pressed the +trigger. A belch of smoke, a roar of gunpowder, and Kazan felt a red-hot +stream of fire pass with the swiftness of a lightning-flash through his +brain. He stumbled back, his legs gave way under him, and he crumpled +down in a limp heap. Gray Wolf darted like a streak off into the bush. +Blind, she had not seen Kazan wilt down upon the white sand. Not until +she was a quarter of a mile away from the terrifying thunder of the +white man's rifle did she stop and wait for him. + +Sandy McTrigger grounded his canoe on the sand-bar with an exultant +yell. + +"Got you, you old devil, didn't I?" he cried. "I'd 'a' got the other, +too, if I'd 'a' had something besides this damned old relic!" + +He turned Kazan's head over with the butt of his gun, and the leer of +satisfaction in his face gave place to a sudden look of amazement. For +the first time he saw the collar about Kazan's neck. + +"My Gawd, it ain't a wolf," he gasped. "It's a dog, Sandy McTrigger--_a +dog!"_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +SANDY'S METHOD + + +McTrigger dropped on his knees in the sand. The look of exultation was +gone from his face. He twisted the collar about the dog's limp neck +until he came to the worn plate, on which he could make out the faintly +engraved letters _K-a-z-a-n_. He spelled the letters out one by one, and +the look in his face was of one who still disbelieved what he had seen +and heard. + +"A dog!" he exclaimed again. "A dog, Sandy McTrigger an' a--a beauty!" + +He rose to his feet and looked down on his victim. A pool of blood lay +in the white sand at the end of Kazan's nose. After a moment Sandy bent +over to see where his bullet had struck. His inspection filled him with +a new and greater interest. The heavy ball from the muzzle-loader had +struck Kazan fairly on top of the head. It was a glancing blow that had +not even broken the skull, and like a flash Sandy understood the +quivering and twitching of Kazan's shoulders and legs. He had thought +that they were the last muscular throes of death. But Kazan was not +dying. He was only stunned, and would be on his feet again in a few +minutes. Sandy was a connoisseur of dogs--of dogs that had worn sledge +traces. He had lived among them two-thirds of his life. He could tell +their age, their value, and a part of their history at a glance. In the +snow he could tell the trail of a Mackenzie hound from that of a +Malemute, and the track of an Eskimo dog from that of a Yukon husky. He +looked at Kazan's feet. They were wolf feet, and he chuckled. Kazan was +part wild. He was big and powerful, and Sandy thought of the coming +winter, and of the high prices that dogs would bring at Red Gold City. +He went to the canoe and returned with a roll of stout moose-hide +babiche. Then he sat down cross-legged in front of Kazan and began +making a muzzle. He did this by plaiting babiche thongs in the same +manner that one does in making the web of a snow-shoe. In ten minutes he +had the muzzle over Kazan's nose and fastened securely about his neck. +To the dog's collar he then fastened a ten-foot rope of babiche. After +that he sat back and waited for Kazan to come to life. + +When Kazan first lifted his head he could not see. There was a red film +before his eyes. But this passed away swiftly and he saw the man. His +first instinct was to rise to his feet. Three times he fell back before +he could stand up. Sandy was squatted six feet from him, holding the end +of the babiche, and grinning. Kazan's fangs gleamed back. He growled, +and the crest along his spine rose menacingly. Sandy jumped to his feet. + +"Guess I know what you're figgering on," he said. "I've had _your_ kind +before. The dam' wolves have turned you bad, an' you'll need a whole lot +of club before you're right again. Now, look here." + +Sandy had taken the precaution of bringing a thick club along with the +babiche. He picked it up from where he had dropped it in the sand. +Kazan's strength had fairly returned to him now. He was no longer dizzy. +The mist had cleared away from his eyes. Before him he saw once more his +old enemy, man--man and the club. All of the wild ferocity of his +nature was roused in an instant. Without reasoning he knew that Gray +Wolf was gone, and that this man was accountable for her going. He knew +that this man had also brought him his own hurt, and what he ascribed to +the man he also attributed to the club. In his newer undertaking of +things, born of freedom and Gray Wolf, Man and Club were one and +inseparable. With a snarl he leaped at Sandy. The man was not expecting +a direct assault, and before he could raise his club or spring aside +Kazan had landed full on his chest. The muzzle about Kazan's jaws saved +him. Fangs that would have torn his throat open snapped harmlessly. +Under the weight of the dog's body he fell back, as if struck down by a +catapult. + +As quick as a cat he was on his feet again, with the end of the babiche +twisted several times about his hand. Kazan leaped again, and this time +he was met by a furious swing of the club. It smashed against his +shoulder, and sent him down in the sand. Before he could recover Sandy +was upon him, with all the fury of a man gone mad. He shortened the +babiche by twisting it again and again about his hand, and the club rose +and fell with the skill and strength of one long accustomed to its use. +The first blows served only to add to Kazan's hatred of man, and the +ferocity and fearlessness of his attacks. Again and again he leaped in, +and each time the club fell upon him with a force that threatened to +break his bones. There was a tense hard look about Sandy's cruel mouth. +He had never known a dog like this before, and he was a bit nervous, +even with Kazan muzzled. Three times Kazan's fangs would have sunk deep +in his flesh had it not been for the babiche. And if the thongs about +his jaws should slip, or break--. + +Sandy followed up the thought with a smashing blow that landed on +Kazan's head, and once more the old battler fell limp upon the sand. +McTrigger's breath was coming in quick gasps. He was almost winded. Not +until the club slipped from his hand did he realize how desperate the +fight had been. Before Kazan recovered from the blow that had stunned +him Sandy examined the muzzle and strengthened it by adding another +babiche thong. Then he dragged Kazan to a log that high water had +thrown up on the shore a few yards away and made the end of the babiche +rope fast to a dead snag. After that he pulled his canoe higher up on +the sand, and began to prepare camp for the night. + +For some minutes after Kazan's stunned senses had become normal he lay +motionless, watching Sandy McTrigger. Every bone in his body gave him +pain. His jaws were sore and bleeding. His upper lip was smashed where +the club had fallen. One eye was almost closed. Several times Sandy came +near, much pleased at what he regarded as the good results of the +beating. Each time he brought the club. The third time he prodded Kazan +with it, and the dog snarled and snapped savagely at the end of it. That +was what Sandy wanted--it was an old trick of the dog-slaver. Instantly +he was using the club again, until with a whining cry Kazan slunk under +the protection of the snag to which he was fastened. He could scarcely +drag himself. His right forepaw was smashed. His hindquarters sank under +him. For a time after this second beating he could not have escaped had +he been free. + +Sandy was in unusually good humor. + +"I'll take the devil out of you all right," he told Kazan for the +twentieth time. "There's nothin' like beatin's to make dogs an' wimmin +live up to the mark. A month from now you'll be worth two hundred +dollars or I'll skin you alive!" + +Three or four times before dusk Sandy worked to rouse Kazan's animosity. +But there was no longer any desire left in Kazan to fight. His two +terrific beatings, and the crushing blow of the bullet against his +skull, had made him sick. He lay with his head between his forepaws, his +eyes closed, and did not see McTrigger. He paid no attention to the meat +that was thrown under his nose. He did not know when the last of the sun +sank behind the western forests, or when the darkness came. But at last +something roused him from his stupor. To his dazed and sickened brain it +came like a call from out of the far past, and he raised his head and +listened. Out on the sand McTrigger had built a fire, and the man stood +in the red glow of it now, facing the dark shadows beyond the shoreline. +He, too, was listening. What had roused Kazan came again now--the lost +mourning cry of Gray Wolf far out on the plain. + +With a whine Kazan was on his feet, tugging at the babiche. Sandy +snatched up his club, and leaped toward him. + +"Down, you brute!" he commanded. + +In the firelight the club rose and fell with ferocious quickness. When +McTrigger returned to the fire he was breathing hard again. He tossed +his club beside the blankets he had spread out for a bed. It was a +different looking club now. It was covered with blood and hair. + +"Guess that'll take the spirit out of him," he chuckled. "It'll do +that--or kill 'im!" + +Several times that night Kazan heard Gray Wolf's call. He whined softly +in response, fearing the club. He watched the fire until the last embers +of it died out, and then cautiously dragged himself from under the snag. +Two or three times he tried to stand on his feet, but fell back each +time. His legs were not broken, but the pain of standing on them was +excruciating. He was hot and feverish. All that night he had craved a +drink of water. When Sandy crawled out from between his blankets in the +early dawn he gave him both meat and water. Kazan drank the water, but +would not touch the meat. Sandy regarded the change in him with +satisfaction. By the time the sun was up he had finished his breakfast +and was ready to leave. He approached Kazan fearlessly now, without the +club. Untying the babiche he dragged the dog to the canoe. Kazan slunk +in the sand while his captor fastened the end of the hide rope to the +stern of the canoe. Sandy grinned. What was about to happen would be fun +for him. In the Yukon he had learned how to take the spirit out of dogs. + +He pushed off, bow foremost. Bracing himself with his paddle he then +began to pull Kazan toward the water. In a few moments Kazan stood with +his forefeet planted in the damp sand at the edge of the stream. For a +brief interval Sandy allowed the babiche to fall slack. Then with a +sudden powerful pull he jerked Kazan out into the water. Instantly he +sent the canoe into midstream, swung it quickly down with the current, +and began to paddle enough to keep the babiche taut about his victim's +neck. In spite of his sickness and injuries Kazan was now compelled to +swim to keep his head above water. In the wash of the canoe, and with +Sandy's strokes growing steadily stronger, his position became each +moment one of increasing torture. At times his shaggy head was pulled +completely under water. At others Sandy would wait until he had drifted +alongside, and then thrust him under with the end of his paddle. He grew +weaker. At the end of a half-mile he was drowning. Not until then did +Sandy pull him alongside and drag him into the canoe. The dog fell limp +and gasping in the bottom. Brutal though Sandy's methods had been, they +had worked his purpose. In Kazan there was no longer a desire to fight. +He no longer struggled for freedom. He knew that this man was his +master, and for the time his spirit was gone. All he desired now was to +be allowed to lie in the bottom of the canoe, out of reach of the club, +and safe from the water. The club lay between him and the man. The end +of it was within a foot or two of his nose, and what he smelled was his +own blood. + +For five days and five nights the journey down-stream continued, and +McTrigger's process of civilizing Kazan was continued in three more +beatings with the club, and another resort to the water torture. On the +morning of the sixth day they reached Red Gold City, and McTrigger put +up his tent close to the river. Somewhere he obtained a chain for Kazan, +and after fastening the dog securely back of the tent he cut off the +babiche muzzle. + +"You can't put on meat in a muzzle," he told his prisoner. "An' I want +you to git strong--an' fierce as hell. I've got an idee. It's an idee +you can lick your weight in wildcats. We'll pull off a stunt pretty soon +that'll fill our pockets with dust. I've done it afore, and we can do it +_here_. Wolf an' dog--s'elp me Gawd but it'll be a drawin' card!" + +Twice a day after this he brought fresh raw meat to Kazan. Quickly +Kazan's spirit and courage returned to him. The soreness left his limbs. +His battered jaws healed. And after the fourth day each time that Sandy +came with meat he greeted him with the challenge of his snarling fangs. +McTrigger did not beat him now. He gave him no fish, no tallow and +meal--nothing but raw meat. He traveled five miles up the river to bring +in the fresh entrail of a caribou that had been killed. One day Sandy +brought another man with him and when the stranger came a step too near +Kazan made a sudden swift lunge at him. The man jumped back with a +startled oath. + +"He'll do," he growled. "He's lighter by ten or fifteen pounds than the +Dane, but he's got the teeth, an' the quickness, an' he'll give a good +show before he goes under." + +"I'll make you a bet of twenty-five per cent. of my share that he don't +go under," offered Sandy. + +"Done!" said the other. "How long before he'll be ready?" + +Sandy thought a moment. + +"Another week," he said. "He won't have his weight before then. A week +from to-day, we'll say. Next Tuesday night. Does that suit you, Harker?" + +Harker nodded. + +"Next Tuesday night," he agreed. Then he added, "I'll make it a _half_ +of my share that the Dane kills your wolf-dog." + +Sandy took a long look at Kazan. + +"I'll just take you on that," he said. Then, as he shook Harker's hand, +"I don't believe there's a dog between here and the Yukon that can kill +the wolf!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +PROFESSOR McGILL + + +Red Gold City was ripe for a night of relaxation. There had been some +gambling, a few fights and enough liquor to create excitement now and +then, but the presence of the mounted police had served to keep things +unusually tame compared with events a few hundred miles farther north, +in the Dawson country. The entertainment proposed by Sandy McTrigger and +Jan Harker met with excited favor. The news spread for twenty miles +about Red Gold City and there had never been greater excitement in the +town than on the afternoon and night of the big fight. This was largely +because Kazan and the huge Dane had been placed on exhibition, each dog +in a specially made cage of his own, and a fever of betting began. Three +hundred men, each of whom was paying five dollars to see the battle, +viewed the gladiators through the bars of their cages. Harker's dog was +a combination of Great Dane and mastiff, born in the North, and bred to +the traces. Betting favored him by the odds of two to one. Occasionally +it ran three to one. At these odds there was plenty of Kazan money. +Those who were risking their money on him were the older wilderness +men--men who had spent their lives among dogs, and who knew what the red +glint in Kazan's eyes meant. An old Kootenay miner spoke low in +another's ear: + +"I'd bet on 'im even. I'd give odds if I had to. He'll fight all around +the Dane. The Dane won't have no method." + +"But he's got the weight," said the other dubiously. "Look at his jaws, +an' his shoulders--" + +"An' his big feet, an' his soft throat, an' the clumsy thickness of his +belly," interrupted the Kootenay man. "For Gawd's sake, man, take my +word for it, an' don't put your money on the Dane!" + +Others thrust themselves between them. At first Kazan had snarled at all +these faces about him. But now he lay back against the boarded side of +the cage and eyed them sullenly from between his forepaws. + +The fight was to be pulled off in Barker's place, a combination of +saloon and cafe. The benches and tables had been cleared out and in the +center of the one big room a cage ten feet square rested on a platform +three and a half feet from the floor. Seats for the three hundred +spectators were drawn closely around this. Suspended just above the open +top of the cage were two big oil lamps with glass reflectors. + +It was eight o'clock when Harker, McTrigger and two other men bore Kazan +to the arena by means of the wooden bars that projected from the bottom +of his cage. The big Dane was already in the fighting cage. He stood +blinking his eyes in the brilliant light of the reflecting lamps. He +pricked up his ears when he saw Kazan. Kazan did not show his fangs. +Neither revealed the expected animosity. It was the first they had seen +of each other, and a murmur of disappointment swept the ranks of the +three hundred men. The Dane remained as motionless as a rock when Kazan +was prodded from his own cage into the fighting cage. He did not leap or +snarl. He regarded Kazan with a dubious questioning poise to his +splendid head, and then looked again to the expectant and excited faces +of the waiting men. For a few moments Kazan stood stiff-legged, facing +the Dane. Then his shoulders dropped, and he, too, coolly faced the +crowd that had expected a fight to the death. A laugh of derision swept +through the closely seated rows. Catcalls, jeering taunts flung at +McTrigger and Harker, and angry voices demanding their money back +mingled with a tumult of growing discontent. Sandy's face was red with +mortification and rage. The blue veins in Barker's forehead had swollen +twice their normal size. He shook his fist in the face of the crowd, and +shouted: + +"Wait! Give 'em a chance, you dam' fools!" + +At his words every voice was stilled. Kazan had turned. He was facing +the huge Dane. And the Dane had turned his eyes to Kazan. Cautiously, +prepared for a lunge or a sidestep, Kazan advanced a little. The Dane's +shoulders bristled. He, too, advanced upon Kazan. Four feet apart they +stood rigid. One could have heard a whisper in the room now. Sandy and +Harker, standing close to the cage, scarcely breathed. Splendid in every +limb and muscle, warriors of a hundred fights, and fearless to the point +of death, the two half-wolf victims of man stood facing each other. None +could see the questioning look in their brute eyes. None knew that in +this thrilling moment the unseen hand of the wonderful Spirit God of the +wilderness hovered between them, and that one of its miracles was +descending upon them. It was _understanding_. Meeting in the +open--rivals in the traces--they would have been rolling in the throes +of terrific battle. But _here_ came that mute appeal of brotherhood. In +the final moment, when only a step separated them, and when men expected +to see the first mad lunge, the splendid Dane slowly raised his head and +looked over Kazan's back through the glare of the lights. Harker +trembled, and under his breath he cursed. The Dane's throat was open to +Kazan. But between the beasts had passed the voiceless pledge of peace. +Kazan did not leap. He turned. And shoulder to shoulder--splendid in +their contempt of man--they stood and looked through the bars of their +prison into the one of human faces. + +A roar burst from the crowd--a roar of anger, of demand, of threat. In +his rage Harker drew a revolver and leveled it at the Dane. Above the +tumult of the crowd a single voice stopped him. + +"Hold!" it demanded. "Hold--in the name of the law!" + +For a moment there was silence. Every face turned in the direction of +the voice. Two men stood on chairs behind the last row. One was Sergeant +Brokaw, of the Royal Northwest Mounted. It was he who had spoken. He was +holding up a hand, commanding silence and attention. On the chair beside +him stood another man. He was thin, with drooping shoulders, and a pale +smooth face--a little man, whose physique and hollow cheeks told nothing +of the years he had spent close up along the raw edge of the Arctic. It +was he who spoke now, while the sergeant held up his hand. His voice was +low and quiet: + +"I'll give the owners five hundred dollars for those dogs," he said. + +Every man in the room heard the offer. Harker looked at Sandy. For an +instant their heads were close together. + +"They won't fight, and they'll make good team-mates," the little man +went on. "I'll give the owners five hundred dollars." + +Harker raised a hand. + +"Make it six," he said. "Make it six and they're yours." + +The little man hesitated. Then he nodded. + +"I'll give you six hundred," he agreed. + +Murmurs of discontent rose throughout the crowd. Harker climbed to the +edge of the platform. + +"We ain't to blame because they wouldn't fight," he shouted, "but if +there's any of you small enough to want your money back you can git it +as you go out. The dogs laid down on us, that's all. We ain't to blame." + +The little man was edging his way between the chairs, accompanied by the +sergeant of police. With his pale face close to the sapling bars of the +cage he looked at Kazan and the big Dane. + +"I guess we'll be good friends," he said, and he spoke so low that only +the dogs heard his voice. "It's a big price, but we'll charge it to the +Smithsonian, lads. I'm going to need a couple of four-footed friends of +your moral caliber." + +And no one knew why Kazan and the Dane drew nearer to the little +scientist's side of the cage as he pulled out a big roll of bills and +counted out six hundred dollars for Harker and Sandy McTrigger. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ALONE IN DARKNESS + + +Never had the terror and loneliness of blindness fallen upon Gray Wolf +as in the days that followed the shooting of Kazan and his capture by +Sandy McTrigger. For hours after the shot she crouched in the bush back +from the river, waiting for him to come to her. She had faith that he +would come, as he had come a thousand times before, and she lay close on +her belly, sniffing the air, and whining when it brought no scent of her +mate. Day and night were alike an endless chaos of darkness to her now, +but she knew when the sun went down. She sensed the first deepening +shadows of evening, and she knew that the stars were out, and that the +river lay in moonlight. It was a night to roam, and after a time she +moved restlessly about in a small circle on the plain, and sent out her +first inquiring call for Kazan. Up from the river came the pungent odor +of smoke, and instinctively she knew that it was this smoke, and the +nearness of man, that was keeping Kazan from her. But she went no nearer +than that first circle made by her padded feet. Blindness had taught her +to wait. Since the day of the battle on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had +destroyed her eyes, Kazan had never failed her. Three times she called +for him in the early night. Then she made herself a nest under a +_banskian_ shrub, and waited until dawn. + +Just how she knew when night blotted out the last glow of the sun, so +without seeing she knew when day came. Not until she felt the warmth of +the sun on her back did her anxiety overcome her caution. Slowly she +moved toward the river, sniffing the air and whining. There was no +longer the smell of smoke in the air, and she could not catch the scent +of man. She followed her own trail back to the sand-bar, and in the +fringe of thick bush overhanging the white shore of the stream she +stopped and listened. After a little she scrambled down and went +straight to the spot where she and Kazan were drinking when the shot +came. And there her nose struck the sand still wet and thick with +Kazan's blood. She knew it was the blood of her mate, for the scent of +him was all about her in the sand, mingled with the man-smell of Sandy +McTrigger. She sniffed the trail of his body to the edge of the stream, +where Sandy had dragged him to the canoe. She found the fallen tree to +which he had been tied. And then she came upon one of the two clubs that +Sandy had used to beat wounded Kazan into submissiveness. It was covered +with blood and hair, and all at once Gray Wolf lay back on her haunches +and turned her blind face to the sky, and there rose from her throat a +cry for Kazan that drifted for miles on the wings of the south wind. +Never had Gray Wolf given quite that cry before. It was not the "call" +that comes with the moonlit nights, and neither was it the hunt-cry, nor +the she-wolf's yearning for matehood. It carried with it the lament of +death. And after that one cry Gray Wolf slunk back to the fringe of bush +over the river, and lay with her face turned to the stream. + +A strange terror fell upon her. She had grown accustomed to darkness, +but never before had she been _alone_ in that darkness. Always there +had been the guardianship of Kazan's presence. She heard the clucking +sound of a spruce hen in the bush a few yards away, and now that sound +came to her as if from out of another world. A ground-mouse rustled +through the grass close to her forepaws, and she snapped at it, and +closed her teeth on a rock. The muscles of her shoulders twitched +tremulously and she shivered as if stricken by intense cold. She was +terrified by the darkness that shut out the world from her, and she +pawed at her closed eyes, as if she might open them to light. Early in +the afternoon she wandered back on the plain. It was different. It +frightened her, and soon she returned to the beach, and snuggled down +under the tree where Kazan had lain. She was not so frightened here. The +smell of Kazan was strong about her. For an hour she lay motionless, +with her head resting on the club clotted with his hair and blood. Night +found her still there. And when the moon and the stars came out she +crawled back into the pit in the white sand that Kazan's body had made +under the tree. + +With dawn she went down to the edge of the stream to drink. She could +not see that the day was almost as dark as night, and that the +gray-black sky was a chaos of slumbering storm. But she could smell the +presence of it in the thick air, and could _feel_ the forked flashes of +lightning that rolled up with the dense pall from the south and west. +The distant rumbling of thunder grew louder, and she huddled herself +again under the tree. For hours the storm crashed over her, and the rain +fell in a deluge. When it had finished she slunk out from her shelter +like a thing beaten. Vainly she sought for one last scent of Kazan. The +club was washed clean. Again the sand was white where Kazan's blood had +reddened it. Even under the tree there was no sign of him left. + +Until now only the terror of being alone in the pit of darkness that +enveloped her had oppressed Gray Wolf. With afternoon came hunger. It +was this hunger that drew her from the sand-bar, and she wandered back +into the plain. A dozen times she scented game, and each time it evaded +her. Even a ground-mouse that she cornered under a root, and dug out +with her paws, escaped her fangs. + +Thirty-six hours before this Kazan and Gray Wolf had left a half of +their last kill a mile of two farther back on the plain. The kill was +one of the big barren rabbits, and Gray Wolf turned in its direction. +She did not require sight to find it. In her was developed to its finest +point that sixth sense of the animal kingdom, the sense of orientation, +and as straight as a pigeon might have winged its flight she cut through +the bush to the spot where they had cached the rabbit. A white fox had +been there ahead of her, and she found only scattered bits of hair and +fur. What the fox had left the moose-birds and bush-jays had carried +away. Hungrily Gray Wolf turned back to the river. + +That night she slept again where Kazan had lain, and three times she +called for him without answer. A heavy dew fell, and it drenched the +last vestige of her mate's scent out of the sand. But still through the +day that followed, and the day that followed that, blind Gray Wolf clung +to the narrow rim of white sand. On the fourth day her hunger reached a +point where she gnawed the bark from willow bushes. It was on this day +that she made a discovery. She was drinking, when her sensitive nose +touched something in the water's edge that was smooth, and bore a faint +odor of flesh. It was one of the big northern river clams. She pawed it +ashore, sniffing at the hard shell. Then she crunched it between her +teeth. She had never tasted sweeter meat than that which she found +inside, and she began hunting for other clams. She found many of them, +and ate until she was no longer hungry. For three days more she remained +on the bar. + +And then, one night, the call came to her. It set her quivering with a +strange new excitement--something that may have been a new hope, and in +the moonlight she trotted nervously up and down the shining strip of +sand, facing now the north, and now the south, and then the east and the +west--her head flung up, listening, as if in the soft wind of the night +she was trying to locate the whispering lure of a wonderful voice. And +whatever it was that came to her came from out of the south and east. +Off there--across the barren, far beyond the outer edge of the northern +timber-line--was _home_. And off there, in her brute way, she reasoned +that she must find Kazan. The call did not come from their old windfall +home in the swamp. It came from beyond that, and in a flashing vision +there rose through her blindness a picture of the towering Sun Rock, of +the winding trail that led to it, and the cabin on the plain. It was +there that blindness had come to her. It was there that day had ended, +and eternal night had begun. And it was there that she had mothered her +first-born. Nature had registered these things so that they could never +be wiped out of her memory, and when the call came it was from the +sunlit world where she had last known light and life and had last seen +the moon and the stars in the blue night of the skies. + +And to that call she responded, leaving the river and its food behind +her--straight out into the face of darkness and starvation, no longer +fearing death or the emptiness of the world she could not see; for ahead +of her, two hundred miles away, she could see the Sun Rock, the winding +trail, the nest of her first-born between the two big rocks--_and +Kazan_! + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + +Sixty miles farther north Kazan lay at the end of his fine steel chain, +watching little Professor McGill mixing a pail of tallow and bran. A +dozen yards from him lay the big Dane, his huge jaws drooling in +anticipation of the unusual feast which McGill was preparing. He showed +signs of pleasure when McGill approached him with a quart of the +mixture, and he gulped it between his huge jaws. The little man with the +cold blue eyes and the gray-blond hair stroked his back without fear. +His attitude was different when he turned to Kazan. His movements were +filled with caution, and yet his eyes and his lips were smiling, and he +gave the wolf-dog no evidence of his fear, if it could be called fear. + +The little professor, who was up in the north country for the +Smithsonian Institution, had spent a third of his life among dogs. He +loved them, and understood them. He had written a number of magazine +articles on dog intellect that had attracted wide attention among +naturalists. It was largely because he loved dogs, and understood them +more than most men, that he had bought Kazan and the big Dane on the +night when Sandy McTrigger and his partner had tried to get them to +fight to the death in the Red Gold City saloon. The refusal of the two +splendid beasts to kill each other for the pleasure of the three hundred +men who had assembled to witness the fight delighted him. He had already +planned a paper on the incident. Sandy had told him the story of Kazan's +capture, and of his wild mate, Gray Wolf, and the professor had asked +him a thousand questions. But each day Kazan puzzled him more. No amount +of kindness on his part could bring a responsive gleam in Kazan's eyes. +Not once did Kazan signify a willingness to become friends. And yet he +did not snarl at McGill, or snap at his hands when they came within +reach. Quite frequently Sandy McTrigger came over to the little cabin +where McGill was staying, and three times Kazan leaped at the end of +his chain to get at him, and his white fangs gleamed as long as Sandy +was in sight. Alone with McGill he became quiet. Something told him that +McGill had come as a friend that night when he and the big Dane stood +shoulder to shoulder in the cage that had been built for a slaughter +pen. Away down in his brute heart he held McGill apart from other men. +He had no desire to harm him. He tolerated him, but showed none of the +growing affection of the huge Dane. It was this fact that puzzled +McGill. He had never before known a dog that he could not make love him. + +To-day he placed the tallow and bran before Kazan, and the smile in his +face gave way to a look of perplexity. Kazan's lips had drawn suddenly +back. A fierce snarl rolled deep in his throat. The hair along his spine +stood up. His muscles twitched. Instinctively the professor turned. +Sandy McTrigger had come up quietly behind him. His brutal face wore a +grin as he looked at Kazan. + +"It's a fool job--tryin' to make friends with _him_" he said. Then he +added, with a sudden interested gleam in his eyes, "When you startin'?" + +"With first frost," replied McGill. "It ought to come soon. I'm going to +join Sergeant Conroy and his party at Fond du Lac by the first of +October." + +"And you're going up to Fond du Lac--alone?" queried Sandy. "Why don't +you take a man?" + +The little professor laughed softly. + +"Why?" he asked. "I've been through the Athabasca waterways a dozen +times, and know the trail as well as I know Broadway. Besides, I like to +be alone. And the work isn't too hard, with the currents all flowing to +the north and east." + +Sandy was looking at the Dane, with his back to McGill. An exultant +gleam shot for an instant into his eyes. + +"You're taking the dogs?" + +"Yes." + +Sandy lighted his pipe, and spoke like one strangely curious. + +"Must cost a heap to take these trips o' yourn, don't it?" + +"My last cost about seven thousand dollars. This will cost five," said +McGill. + +"Gawd!" breathed Sandy. "An' you carry all that along with you! Ain't +you afraid--something might happen--?" + +The little professor was looking the other way now. The carelessness in +his face and manner changed. His blue eyes grew a shade darker. A hard +smile which Sandy did not see hovered about his lips for an instant. +Then he turned, laughing. + +"I'm a very light sleeper," he said. "A footstep at night rouses me. +Even a man's breathing awakes me, when I make up my mind that I must be +on my guard. And, besides"--he drew from his pocket a blue-steeled +Savage automatic--"I know how to use _this_." He pointed to a knot in +the wall of the cabin. "Observe," he said. Five times he fired at twenty +paces, and when Sandy went up to look at the knot he gave a gasp. There +was one jagged hole where the knot had been. + +"Pretty good," he grinned. "Most men couldn't do better'n that with a +rifle." + +When Sandy left, McGill followed him with a suspicious gleam in his +eyes, and a curious smile on his lips. Then he turned to Kazan. + +"Guess you've got him figgered out about right, old man," he laughed +softly. "I don't blame you very much for wanting to get him by the +throat. Perhaps--" + +He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and went into the cabin. Kazan +dropped his head between his forepaws, and lay still, with wide-open +eyes. It was late afternoon, early in September, and each night brought +now the first chill breaths of autumn. Kazan watched the last glow of +the sun as it faded out of the southern skies. Darkness always followed +swiftly after that, and with darkness came more fiercely his wild +longing for freedom. Night after night he had gnawed at his steel chain. +Night after night he had watched the stars, and the moon, and had +listened for Gray Wolf's call, while the big Dane lay sleeping. To-night +it was colder than usual, and the keen tang of the wind that came fresh +from the west stirred him strangely. It set his blood afire with what +the Indians call the Frost Hunger. Lethargic summer was gone and the +days and nights of hunting were at hand. He wanted to leap out into +freedom and run until he was exhausted, with Gray Wolf at his side. He +knew that Gray Wolf was off there--where the stars hung low in the clear +sky, and that she was waiting. He strained at the end of his chain, and +whined. All that night he was restless--more restless than he had been +at any time before. Once, in the far distance, he heard a cry that he +thought was the cry of Gray Wolf, and his answer roused McGill from deep +sleep. It was dawn, and the little professor dressed himself and came +out of the cabin. With satisfaction he noted the exhilarating snap in +the air. He wet his fingers and held them above his head, chuckling when +he found the wind had swung into the north. He went to Kazan, and talked +to him. Among other things he said, "This'll put the black flies to +sleep, Kazan. A day or two more of it and we'll start." + +Five days later McGill led first the Dane, and then Kazan, to a packed +canoe. Sandy McTrigger saw them off, and Kazan watched for a chance to +leap at him. Sandy kept his distance, and McGill watched the two with a +thought that set the blood running swiftly behind the mask of his +careless smile. They had slipped a mile down-stream when he leaned over +and laid a fearless hand on Kazan's head. Something in the touch of that +hand, and in the professor's voice, kept Kazan from a desire to snap at +him. He tolerated the friendship with expressionless eyes and a +motionless body. + +"I was beginning to fear I wouldn't have much sleep, old boy," chuckled +McGill ambiguously, "but I guess I can take a nap now and then with +_you_ along!" + +He made camp that night fifteen miles up the lake shore. The big Dane he +fastened to a sapling twenty yards from his small silk tent, but Kazan's +chain he made fast to the butt of a stunted birch that held down the +tent-flap. Before he went into the tent for the night McGill pulled out +his automatic and examined it with care. + +For three days the journey continued without a mishap along the shore of +Lake Athabasca. On the fourth night McGill pitched his tent in a clump +of _banskian_ pine a hundred yards back from the water. All that day the +wind had come steadily from behind them, and for at least a half of the +day the professor had been watching Kazan closely. From the west there +had now and then come a scent that stirred him uneasily. Since noon he +had sniffed that wind. Twice McGill had heard him growling deep in his +throat, and once, when the scent had come stronger than usual, he had +bared his fangs, and the bristles stood up along his spine. For an hour +after striking camp the little professor did not build a fire, but sat +looking up the shore of the lake through his hunting glass. It was dusk +when he returned to where he had put up his tent and chained the dogs. +For a few moments he stood unobserved, looking at the wolf-dog. Kazan +was still uneasy. He lay _facing_ the west. McGill made note of this, +for the big Dane lay behind Kazan--to the east. Under ordinary +conditions Kazan would have faced him. He was sure now that there was +something in the west wind. A little shiver ran up his back as he +thought of what it might be. + +Behind a rock he built a very small fire, and prepared supper. After +this he went into the tent, and when he came out he carried a blanket +under his arm. He chuckled as he stood for a moment over Kazan. + +"We're not going to sleep in there to-night, old hoy," he said. "I don't +like what you've found in the west wind. It may he a--_thunder-storm!_" +He laughed at his joke, and buried himself in a clump of stunted +_banskians_ thirty paces from the tent. Here he rolled himself in his +blanket, and went to sleep. + +It was a quiet starlit night, and hours afterward Kazan dropped his nose +between his forepaws and drowsed. It was the snap of a twig that roused +him. The sound did not awaken the sluggish Dane but instantly Kazan's +head was alert, his keen nostrils sniffing the air. What he had smelled +all day was heavy about him now. He lay still and quivering. Slowly, +from out of the _banskians_ behind the tent, there came a figure. It was +not the little professor. It approached cautiously, with lowered head +and hunched shoulders, and the starlight revealed the murderous face of +Sandy McTrigger. Kazan crouched low. He laid his head flat between his +forepaws. His long fangs gleamed. But he made no sound that betrayed his +concealment under a thick _banskian_ shrub. Step by step Sandy +approached, and at last he reached the flap of the tent. He did not +carry a club or a whip in his hand now. In the place of either of those +was the glitter of steel. At the door to the tent he paused, and peered +in, his back to Kazan. + +Silently, swiftly--the wolf now in every movement, Kazan came to his +feet. He forgot the chain that held him. Ten feet away stood the enemy +he hated above all others he had ever known. Every ounce of strength in +his splendid body gathered itself for the spring. And then he leaped. +This time the chain did not pull him back, almost neck-broken. Age and +the elements had weakened the leather collar he had worn since the days +of his slavery in the traces, and it gave way with a snap. Sandy turned, +and in a second leap Kazan's fangs sank into the flesh of his arm. With +a startled cry the man fell, and as they rolled over on the ground the +big Dane's deep voice rolled out in thunderous alarm as he tugged at his +leash. In the fall Kazan's hold was broken. In an instant he was on his +feet, ready for another attack. And then the change came. He was +_free_. The collar was gone from his neck. The forest, the stars, the +whispering wind were all about him. _Here_ were men, and off there +was--Gray Wolf! His ears dropped, and he turned swiftly, and slipped +like a shadow back into the glorious freedom of his world. + +A hundred yards away something stopped him for an instant. It was not +the big Dane's voice, but the sharp _crack--crack--crack_, of the little +professor's automatic. And above that sound there rose the voice of +Sandy McTrigger in a weird and terrible cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AN EMPTY WORLD + + +Mile after mile Kazan went on. For a time he was oppressed by the +shivering note of death that had come to him in Sandy McTrigger's cry, +and he slipped through the _banskians_ like a shadow, his ears +flattened, his tail trailing, his hindquarters betraying that curious +slinking quality of the wolf and dog stealing away from danger. Then he +came out upon a plain, and the stillness, the billion stars in the clear +vault of the sky, and the keen air that carried with it a breath of the +Arctic barrens made him alert and questioning. He faced the direction of +the wind. Somewhere off there, far to the south and west, was Gray Wolf. +For the first time in many weeks he sat back on his haunches and gave +the deep and vibrant call that echoed weirdly for miles about him. Back +in the _banskians_ the big Dane heard it, and whined. From over the +still body of Sandy McTrigger the little professor looked up with a +white tense face, and listened for a second cry. But instinct told Kazan +that to that first call there would be no answer, and now he struck out +swiftly, galloping mile after mile, as a dog follows the trail of its +master home. He did not turn hack to the lake, nor was his direction +toward Red Gold City. As straight as he might have followed a road +blazed by the hand of man he cut across the forty miles of plain and +swamp and forest and rocky ridge that lay between him and the McFarlane. +All that night he did not call again for Gray Wolf. With him reasoning +was a process brought about by habit--by precedent--and as Gray Wolf had +waited for him many times before he knew that she would be waiting for +him now near the sand-bar. + +By dawn he had reached the river, within three miles of the sand-bar. +Scarcely was the sun up when he stood on the white strip of sand where +he and Gray Wolf had come down to drink. Expectantly and confidently he +looked about him for Gray Wolf, whining softly, and wagging his tail. He +began to search for her scent, but rains had washed even her footprints +from the clean sand. All that day he searched for her along the river +and out on the plain. He went to where they had killed their last +rabbit. He sniffed at the bushes where the poison baits had hung. Again +and again he sat back on his haunches and sent out his mating cry to +her. And slowly, as he did these things, nature was working in him that +miracle of the wild which the Crees have named the "spirit call." As it +had worked in Gray Wolf, so now it stirred the blood of Kazan. With the +going of the sun, and the sweeping about him of shadowy night, he turned +more and more to the south and east. His whole world was made up of the +trails over which he had hunted. Beyond those places he did not know +that there was such a thing as existence. And in that world, small in +his understanding of things, was Gray Wolf. He could not miss her. That +world, in his comprehension of it, ran from the McFarlane in a narrow +trail through the forests and over the plains to the little valley from +which the beavers had driven them. If Gray Wolf was not here--she was +there, and tirelessly he resumed his quest of her. + +Not until the stars were fading out of the sky again, and gray day was +giving place to night, did exhaustion and hunger stop him. He killed a +rabbit, and for hours after he had feasted he lay close to his kill, and +slept. Then he went on. + +The fourth night he came to the little valley between the two ridges, +and under the stars, more brilliant now in the chill clearness of the +early autumn nights, he followed the creek down into their old swamp +home. It was broad day when he reached the edge of the great beaver pond +that now completely surrounded the windfall under which Gray-Wolf's +second-born had come into the world. Broken Tooth and the other beavers +had wrought a big change in what had once been his home and Gray Wolf's, +and for many minutes Kazan stood silent and motionless at the edge of +the pond, sniffing the air heavy with the unpleasant odor of the +usurpers. Until now his spirit had remained unbroken. Footsore, with +thinned sides and gaunt head, he circled slowly through the swamp. All +that day he searched. And his crest lay flat now, and there was a hunted +look in the droop of his shoulders and in the shifting look of his +eyes. Gray Wolf was gone. + +Slowly nature was impinging that fact upon him. She had passed out of +his world and out of his life, and he was filled with a loneliness and a +grief so great that the forest seemed strange, and the stillness of the +wild a thing that now oppressed and frightened him. Once more the dog in +him was mastering the wolf. With Gray Wolf he had possessed the world of +freedom. Without her, that world was so big and strange and empty that +it appalled him. Late in the afternoon he came upon a little pile of +crushed clamshells on the shore of the stream. He sniffed at +them--turned away--went back, and sniffed again. It was where Gray Wolf +had made a last feast in the swamp before continuing south. But the +scent she had left behind was not strong enough to tell Kazan, and for a +second time he turned away. That night he slunk under a log, and cried +himself to sleep. Deep in the night he grieved in his uneasy slumber, +like a child. And day after day, and night after night, Kazan remained a +slinking creature of the big swamp, mourning for the one creature that +had brought him out of chaos into light, who had filled his world for +him, and who, in going from him, had taken from this world even the +things that Gray Wolf had lost in her blindness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + +In the golden glow of the autumn sun there came up the stream overlooked +by the Sun Rock one day a man, a woman and a child in a canoe. +Civilization had done for lovely Joan what it had done for many another +wild flower transplanted from the depths of the wilderness. Her cheeks +were thin. Her blue eyes had lost their luster. She coughed, and when +she coughed the man looked at her with love and fear in his eyes. But +now, slowly, the man had begun to see the transformation, and on the day +their canoe pointed up the stream and into the wonderful valley that had +been their home before the call of the distant city came to them, he +noted the flush gathering once more in her cheeks, the fuller redness of +her lips, and the gathering glow of happiness and content in her eyes. +He laughed softly as he saw these things, and he blessed the forests. In +the canoe she had leaned back, with her head almost against his +shoulder, and he stopped paddling to draw her to him, and run his +fingers through the soft golden masses of her hair. + +"You are happy again, Joan," he laughed joyously. "The doctors were +right. You are a part of the forests." + +"Yes, I am happy," she whispered, and suddenly there came a little +thrill into her voice, and she pointed to a white finger of sand running +out into the stream. "Do you remember--years and years ago, it +seems--that Kazan left us here? _She_ was on the sand over there, +calling to him. Do you remember?" There was a little tremble about her +mouth, and she added, "I wonder--where they--have gone." + +The cabin was as they had left it. Only the crimson _bakneesh_ had grown +up about it, and shrubs and tall grass had sprung up near its walls. +Once more it took on life, and day by day the color came deeper into +Joan's cheeks, and her voice was filled with its old wild sweetness of +song. Joan's husband cleared the trails over his old trap-lines, and +Joan and the little Joan, who romped and talked now, transformed the +cabin into _home_. One night the man returned to the cabin late, and +when he came in there was a glow of excitement in Joan's blue eyes, and +a tremble in her voice when she greeted him. + +"Did you hear it?" she asked. "Did you hear--_the call_?" + +He nodded, stroking her soft hair. + +"I was a mile back in the creek swamp," he said. "I heard it!" + +Joan's hands clutched his arms. + +"It wasn't Kazan," she said. "I would recognize _his_ voice. But it +seemed to me it was like the other--the call that came that morning from +the sand-bar, his _mate_?" + +The man was thinking. Joan's fingers tightened. She was breathing a +little quickly. + +"Will you promise me this?" she asked, "Will you promise me that you +will never hunt or trap for wolves?" + +"I had thought of that," he replied. "I thought of it--after I heard the +call. Yes, I will promise." + +Joan's arms stole up about his neck. + +"We loved Kazan," she whispered. "And you might kill him--or _her_" + +Suddenly she stopped. Both listened. The door was a little ajar, and to +them there came again the wailing mate-call of the wolf. Joan ran to the +door. Her husband followed. Together they stood silent, and with tense +breath Joan pointed over the starlit plain. + +"Listen! Listen!" she commanded. "It's her cry, _and it came from the +Sun Rock_!" + +She ran out into the night, forgetting that the man was close behind her +now, forgetting that little Joan was alone in her bed. And to them, from +miles and miles across the plain, there came a wailing cry in answer--a +cry that seemed a part of the wind, and that thrilled Joan until her +breath broke in a strange sob. + +Farther out on the plain she went and then stopped, with the golden glow +of the autumn moon and the stars shimmering in her hair and eyes. It was +many minutes before the cry came again, and then it was so near that +Joan put her hands to her mouth, and her cry rang out over the plain as +in the days of old. + +"_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +At the top of the Sun Rock, Gray Wolf--gaunt and thinned by +starvation--heard the woman's cry, and the call that was in her throat +died away in a whine. And to the north a swiftly moving shadow stopped +for a moment, and stood like a thing of rock under the starlight. It was +Kazan. A strange fire leaped through his body. Every fiber of his brute +understanding was afire with the knowledge that here was _home_. It was +here, long ago, that he had lived, and loved, and fought--and all at +once the dreams that had grown faded and indistinct in his memory came +back to him as real living things. For, coming to him faintly over the +plain, _he heard Joan's voice!_ + +In the starlight Joan stood, tense and white, when from out of the pale +mists of the moon-glow he came to her, cringing on his belly, panting +and wind-run, and with a strange whining note in his throat. And as Joan +went to him, her arms reaching out, her lips sobbing his name over and +over again, the man stood and looked down upon them with the wonder of a +new and greater understanding in his face. He had no fear of the +wolf-dog now. And as Joan's arms hugged Kazan's great shaggy head up to +her he heard the whining gasping joy of the beast and the sobbing +whispering voice of the girl, and with tensely gripped hands he faced +the Sun Rock. + +"My Gawd," he breathed. "I believe--it's so--" + +As if in response to the thought in his mind, there came once more +across the plain Gray Wolf's mate-seeking cry of grief and of +loneliness. Swiftly as though struck by a lash Kazan was on his +feet--oblivious of Joan's touch, of her voice, of the presence of the +man. In another instant he was gone, and Joan flung herself against her +husband's breast, and almost fiercely took his face between her two +hands. + +"_Now_ do you believe?" she cried pantingly. "_Now_ do you believe in +the God of my world--the God I have lived with, the God that gives souls +to the wild things, the God that--that has brought--us, +all--together--once more--_home_!" + +His arms closed gently about her. + +"I believe, my Joan," he whispered. + +"And you understand--now--what it means, 'Thou shalt not kill'?" + +"Except that it brings us life--yes, I understand," he replied. + +Her warm soft hands stroked his face. Her blue eyes, filled with the +glory of the stars, looked up into his. + +"Kazan and _she_--you and I--and the baby! Are you sorry--that we came +back?" she asked. + +So close he drew her against his breast that she did not hear the words +he whispered in the soft warmth of her hair. And after that, for many +hours, they sat in the starlight in front of the cabin door. But they +did not hear again that lonely cry from the Sun Rock. Joan and her +husband understood. + +"He'll visit us again to-morrow," the man said at last. "Come, Joan, let +us go to bed." + +Together they entered the cabin. + +And that night, side by side, Kazan and Gray Wolf hunted again in the +moonlit plain. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + +***** This file should be named 10084-8.txt or 10084-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/0/8/10084/ + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/10084-8.zip b/old/10084-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..409fcb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084-8.zip diff --git a/old/10084-h.zip b/old/10084-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e62fb3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084-h.zip diff --git a/old/10084-h/001.jpg b/old/10084-h/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e59849f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084-h/001.jpg diff --git a/old/10084-h/002.jpg b/old/10084-h/002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9e3a5f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084-h/002.jpg diff --git a/old/10084-h/003.jpg b/old/10084-h/003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..072238e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084-h/003.jpg diff --git a/old/10084-h/004.jpg b/old/10084-h/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2fa8bba --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084-h/004.jpg diff --git a/old/10084-h/10084-h.htm b/old/10084-h/10084-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad678a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084-h/10084-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6858 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" ?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + h1,h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps } + h1,h2 { margin-top: 2em } + li,.smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + img { border-style: none } + p {margin: 2em 20% 1em 20%} + ol,ul {margin: 3em 20% 3em 20%} + blockquote {margin: 3em 20% 3em 25%} + hr ( margin: 2em 0% 2em 0% } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + + --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Kazan + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: November 14, 2003 [EBook #10084] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + + + + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p align="center"><img src="001.jpg" alt="[Illustration: He heard Joan's voice]" /></p> + +<h1>Kazan</h1> + +<h2>By James Oliver Curwood</h2> + +<h3>Author of<br /> +The Danger Trail, Etc.</h3> + +<h3>Illustrated by<br /> +Gayle Hoskins and Frank Hoffman</h3> + +<h3>New York<br /> +Grosset & Dunlap Publishers</h3> + +<h3>Copyright 1914<br /> +The Bobbs-Merrill Company</h3> + +<p align="center">WRITTEN FOR AND ORIGINALLY +PUBLISHED IN THE RED BOOK MAGAZINE</p> + + + + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<ol type="upper-roman"> +<li><a href="#1">The Miracle</a></li> +<li><a href="#2">Into The North</a></li> +<li><a href="#3">Mccready Pays The Debt</a></li> +<li><a href="#4">Free From Bonds</a></li> +<li><a href="#5">The Fight In The Snow</a></li> +<li><a href="#6">Joan</a></li> +<li><a href="#7">Out Of The Blizzard</a></li> +<li><a href="#8">The Great Change</a></li> +<li><a href="#9">The Tragedy On Sun Rock</a></li> +<li><a href="#10">The Days Of Fire</a></li> +<li><a href="#11">Always Two By Two</a></li> +<li><a href="#12">The Red Death</a></li> +<li><a href="#13">The Trail Of Hunger</a></li> +<li><a href="#14">The Right Of Fang</a></li> +<li><a href="#15">A Fight Under The Stars</a></li> +<li><a href="#16">The Call</a></li> +<li><a href="#17">His Son</a></li> +<li><a href="#18">The Education Of Ba-Ree</a></li> +<li><a href="#19">The Usurpers</a></li> +<li><a href="#20">A Feud In The Wilderness</a></li> +<li><a href="#21">A Shot On The Sand-Bar</a></li> +<li><a href="#22">Sandy'S Method</a></li> +<li><a href="#23">Professor Mcgill</a></li> +<li><a href="#24">Alone In Darkness</a></li> +<li><a href="#25">The Last Of Mctrigger</a></li> +<li><a href="#26">An Empty World</a></li> +<li><a href="#27">The Call Of Sun Rock</a></li> +</ol> + + + +<a name="1"></a> +<h2>Chapter I</h2> + +<h3>The Miracle</h3> + +<p>Kazan lay mute and motionless, his gray nose between his forepaws, his +eyes half closed. A rock could have appeared scarcely less lifeless than +he; not a muscle twitched; not a hair moved; not an eyelid quivered. Yet +every drop of the wild blood in his splendid body was racing in a +ferment of excitement that Kazan had never before experienced; every +nerve and fiber of his wonderful muscles was tense as steel wire. +Quarter-strain wolf, three-quarters "husky," he had lived the four years +of his life in the wilderness. He had felt the pangs of starvation. He +knew what it meant to freeze. He had listened to the wailing winds of +the long Arctic night over the barrens. He had heard the thunder of the +torrent and the cataract, and had cowered under the mighty crash of the +storm. His throat and sides were scarred by battle, and his eyes were +red with the blister of the snows. He was called Kazan, the Wild Dog, +because he was a giant among his kind and as fearless, even, as the men +who drove him through the perils of a frozen world.</p> + +<p>He had never known fear—until now. He had never felt in him before the +desire to <i>run</i>—not even on that terrible day in the forest when he had +fought and killed the big gray lynx. He did not know what it was that +frightened him, but he knew that he was in another world, and that many +things in it startled and alarmed him. It was his first glimpse of +civilization. He wished that his master would come back into the strange +room where he had left him. It was a room filled with hideous things. +There were great human faces on the wall, but they did not move or +speak, but stared at him in a way he had never seen people look before. +He remembered having looked on a master who lay very quiet and very cold +in the snow, and he had sat back on his haunches and wailed forth the +death song; but these people on the walls looked alive, and yet seemed +dead.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Kazan lifted his ears a little. He heard steps, then low +voices. One of them was his master's voice. But the other—it sent a +little tremor through him! Once, so long ago that it must have been in +his puppyhood days, he seemed to have had a dream of a laugh that was +like the girl's laugh—a laugh that was all at once filled with a +wonderful happiness, the thrill of a wonderful love, and a sweetness +that made Kazan lift his head as they came in. He looked straight at +them, his red eyes gleaming. At once he knew that she must be dear to +his master, for his master's arm was about her. In the glow of the light +he saw that her hair was very bright, and that there was the color of +the crimson <i>bakneesh</i> vine in her face and the blue of the <i>bakneesh</i> +flower in her shining eyes. Suddenly she saw him, and with a little cry +darted toward him.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" shouted the man. "He's dangerous! Kazan—"</p> + +<p>She was on her knees beside him, all fluffy and sweet and beautiful, her +eyes shining wonderfully, her hands about to touch him. Should he cringe +back? Should he snap? Was she one of the things on the wall, and his +enemy? Should he leap at her white throat? He saw the man running +forward, pale as death. Then her hand fell upon his head and the touch +sent a thrill through him that quivered in every nerve of his body. With +both hands she turned up his head. Her face was very close, and he heard +her say, almost sobbingly:</p> + +<p>"And you are Kazan—dear old Kazan, my Kazan, my hero dog—who brought +him home to me when all the others had died! My Kazan—my hero!"</p> + +<p>And then, miracle of miracles, her face was crushed down against him, +and he felt her sweet warm touch.</p> + +<p>In those moments Kazan did not move. He scarcely breathed. It seemed a +long time before the girl lifted her face from him. And when she did, +there were tears in her blue eyes, and the man was standing above them, +his hands gripped tight, his jaws set.</p> + +<p>"I never knew him to let any one touch him—with their naked hand," he +said in a tense wondering voice. "Move back quietly, Isobel. Good +heaven—look at that!"</p> + +<p>Kazan whined softly, his bloodshot eyes on the girl's face. He wanted to +feel her hand again; he wanted to touch her face. Would they beat him +with a club, he wondered, if he <i>dared</i>! He meant no harm now. He would +kill for her. He cringed toward her, inch by inch, his eyes never +faltering. He heard what the man said—"Good heaven! Look at that!"—and +he shuddered. But no blow fell to drive him back. His cold muzzle +touched her filmy dress, and she looked at him, without moving, her wet +eyes blazing like stars.</p> + +<p>"See!" she whispered. "See!"</p> + +<p>Half an inch more—an inch, two inches, and he gave his big gray body a +hunch toward her. Now his muzzle traveled slowly upward—over her foot, +to her lap, and at last touched the warm little hand that lay there. His +eyes were still on her face: he saw a queer throbbing in her bare white +throat, and then a trembling of her lips as she looked up at the man +with a wonderful look. He, too, knelt down beside them, and put his arm +about the girl again, and patted the dog on his head. Kazan did not like +the man's touch. He mistrusted it, as nature had taught him to mistrust +the touch of all men's hands, but he permitted it because he saw that it +in some way pleased the girl.</p> + +<p>"Kazan, old boy, you wouldn't hurt her, would you?" said his master +softly. "We both love her, don't we, boy? Can't help it, can we? And +she's ours, Kazan, all <i>ours</i>! She belongs to you and to me, and we're +going to take care of her all our lives, and if we ever have to we'll +fight for her like hell—won't we? Eh, Kazan, old boy?"</p> + +<p>For a long time after they left him where he was lying on the rug, +Kazan's eyes did not leave the girl. He watched and listened—and all +the time there grew more and more in him the craving to creep up to them +and touch the girl's hand, or her dress, or her foot. After a time his +master said something, and with a little laugh the girl jumped up and +ran to a big, square, shining thing that stood crosswise in a corner, +and which had a row of white teeth longer than his own body. He had +wondered what those teeth were for. The girl's fingers touched them now, +and all the whispering of winds that he had ever heard, all the music of +the waterfalls and the rapids and the trilling of birds in spring-time, +could not equal the sounds they made. It was his first music. For a +moment it startled and frightened him, and then he felt the fright pass +away and a strange tingling in his body. He wanted to sit back on his +haunches and howl, as he had howled at the billion stars in the skies on +cold winter nights. But something kept him from doing that. It was the +girl. Slowly he began slinking toward her. He felt the eyes of the man +upon him, and stopped. Then a little more—inches at a time, with his +throat and jaw straight out along the floor! He was half-way to +her—half-way across the room—when the wonderful sounds grew very soft +and very low.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he heard the man urge in a low quick voice. "Go on! Don't +stop!"</p> + +<p>The girl turned her head, saw Kazan cringing there on the floor, and +continued to play. The man was still looking, but his eyes could not +keep Kazan back now. He went nearer, still nearer, until at last his +outreaching muzzle touched her dress where it lay piled on the floor. +And then—he lay trembling, for she had begun to sing. He had heard a +Cree woman crooning in front of her tepee; he had heard the wild chant +of the caribou song—but he had never heard anything like this +wonderful sweetness that fell from the lips of the girl. He forgot his +master's presence now. Quietly, cringingly, so that she would not know, +he lifted his head. He saw her looking at him; there was something in +her wonderful eyes that gave him confidence, and he laid his head in her +lap. For the second time he felt the touch of a woman's hand, and he +closed his eyes with a long sighing breath. The music stopped. There +came a little fluttering sound above him, like a laugh and a sob in one. +He heard his master cough.</p> + +<p>"I've always loved the old rascal—but I never thought he'd do that," he +said; and his voice sounded queer to Kazan.</p> + + + + +<a name="2"></a> +<h2>Chapter II</h2> + +<h3>Into The North</h3> + +<p>Wonderful days followed for Kazan. He missed the forests and deep snows. +He missed the daily strife of keeping his team-mates in trace, the +yapping at his heels, the straight long pull over the open spaces and +the barrens. He missed the "Koosh—koosh—Hoo-yah!" of the driver, the +spiteful snap of his twenty-foot caribou-gut whip, and that yelping and +straining behind him that told him he had his followers in line. But +something had come to take the place of that which he missed. It was in +the room, in the air all about him, even when the girl or his master was +not near. Wherever she had been, he found the presence of that strange +thing that took away his loneliness. It was the woman scent, and +sometimes it made him whine softly when the girl herself was actually +with him. He was not lonely, nights, when he should have been out +howling at the stars. He was not lonely, because one night he prowled +about until he found a certain door, and when the girl opened that door +in the morning she found him curled up tight against it. She had reached +down and hugged him, the thick smother of her long hair falling all over +him in a delightful perfume; thereafter she placed a rug before the door +for him to sleep on. All through the long nights he knew that she was +just beyond the door, and he was content. Each day he thought less and +less of the wild places, and more of her.</p> + +<p>Then there came the beginning of the change. There was a strange hurry +and excitement around him, and the girl paid less attention to him. He +grew uneasy. He sniffed the change in the air, and he began to study his +master's face. Then there came the morning, very early, when the babiche +collar and the iron chain were fastened to him again. Not until he had +followed his master out through the door and into the street did he +begin to understand. They were sending him away! He sat suddenly back on +his haunches and refused to budge.</p> + +<p>"Come, Kazan," coaxed the man. "Come on, boy."</p> + +<p>He hung back and showed his white fangs. He expected the lash of a whip +or the blow of a club, but neither came. His master laughed and took him +back to the house. When they left it again, the girl was with them and +walked with her hand touching his head. It was she who persuaded him to +leap up through a big dark hole into the still darker interior of a car, +and it was she who lured him to the darkest corner of all, where his +master fastened his chain. Then they went out, laughing like two +children. For hours after that, Kazan lay still and tense, listening to +the queer rumble of wheels under him. Several times those wheels +stopped, and he heard voices outside. At last he was sure that he heard +a familiar voice, and he strained at his chain and whined. The closed +door slid back. A man with a lantern climbed in, followed by his master. +He paid no attention to them, but glared out through the opening into +the gloom of night. He almost broke loose when he leaped down upon the +white snow, but when he saw no one there, he stood rigid, sniffing the +air. Over him were the stars he had howled at all his life, and about +him were the forests, black and silent, shutting them in like a wall. +Vainly he sought for that one scent that was missing, and Thorpe heard +the low note of grief in his shaggy throat. He took the lantern and held +it above his head, at the same time loosening his hold on the leash. At +that signal there came a voice from out of the night. It came from +behind them, and Kazan whirled so suddenly that the loosely held chain +slipped from the man's hand. He saw the glow of other lanterns. And +then, once more, the voice—</p> + +<p>"Kaa-aa-zan!"</p> + +<p>He was off like a bolt. Thorpe laughed to himself as he followed.</p> + +<p>"The old pirate!" he chuckled.</p> + +<p>When he came to the lantern-lighted space back of the caboose, Thorpe +found Kazan crouching down at a woman's feet. It was Thorpe's wife. She +smiled triumphantly at him as he came up out of the gloom.</p> + +<p>"You've won!" he laughed, not unhappily. "I'd have wagered my last +dollar he wouldn't do that for any voice on earth. You've won! Kazan, +you brute, I've lost you!"</p> + +<p>His face suddenly sobered as Isobel stooped to pick up the end of the +chain.</p> + +<p>"He's yours, Issy," he added quickly, "but you must let me care for him +until—we <i>know</i>. Give me the chain. I won't trust him even now. He's a +wolf. I've seen him take an Indian's hand off at a single snap. I've +seen him tear out another dog's jugular in one leap. He's an outlaw—a +bad dog—in spite of the fact that he hung to me like a hero and brought +me out alive. I can't trust him. Give me the chain—"</p> + +<p>He did not finish. With the snarl of a wild beast Kazan had leaped to +his feet. His lips drew up and bared his long fangs. His spine +stiffened, and with a sudden cry of warning, Thorpe dropped a hand to +the revolver at his belt.</p> + +<p>Kazan paid no attention to him. Another form had approached out of the +night, and stood now in the circle of illumination made by the lanterns. +It was McCready, who was to accompany Thorpe and his young wife back to +the Red River camp, where Thorpe was in charge of the building of the +new Trans-continental. The man was straight, powerfully built and clean +shaven. His jaw was so square that it was brutal, and there was a glow +in his eyes that was almost like the passion in Kazan's as he looked at +Isobel.</p> + +<p>Her red and white stocking-cap had slipped free of her head and was +hanging over her shoulder. The dull blaze of the lanterns shone in the +warm glow of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, suddenly +turned to him, were as blue as the bluest <i>bakneesh</i> flower and glowed +like diamonds. McCready shifted his gaze, and instantly her hand fell on +Kazan's head. For the first time the dog did not seem to feel her touch. +He still snarled at McCready, the rumbling menace in his throat growing +deeper. Thorpe's wife tugged at the chain.</p> + +<p>"Down, Kazan—down!" she commanded.</p> + +<p>At the sound of her voice he relaxed.</p> + +<p>"Down!" she repeated, and her free hand fell on his head again. He slunk +to her feet. But his lips were still drawn back. Thorpe was watching +him. He wondered at the deadly venom that shot from the wolfish eyes, +and looked at McCready. The big guide had uncoiled his long dog-whip. A +strange look had come into his face. He was staring hard at Kazan. +Suddenly he leaned forward, with both hands on his knees, and for a +tense moment or two he seemed to forget that Isobel Thorpe's wonderful +blue eyes were looking at him.</p> + +<p>"Hoo-koosh, Pedro—<i>charge</i>!"</p> + +<p>That one word—<i>charge</i>—was taught only to the dogs in the service of +the Northwest Mounted Police. Kazan did not move. McCready straightened, +and quick as a shot sent the long lash of his whip curling out into the +night with a crack like a pistol report.</p> + +<p>"Charge, Pedro—<i>charge</i>!"</p> + +<p>The rumble in Kazan's throat deepened to a snarling growl, but not a +muscle of his body moved. McCready turned to Thorpe.</p> + +<p>"I could have sworn that I knew that dog," he said. "If it's Pedro, he's +<i>bad</i>!"</p> + +<p>Thorpe was taking the chain. Only the girl saw the look that came for an +instant into McCready's face. It made her shiver. A few minutes before, +when the train had first stopped at Les Pas, she had offered her hand +to this man and she had seen the same thing then. But even as she +shuddered she recalled the many things her husband had told her of the +forest people. She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough +manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and +suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of +fear and dislike.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make +friends with him?"</p> + +<p>She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain. +McCready came to her side as she bent over the dog. His back was to +Thorpe as he hunched down. Isobel's bowed head was within a foot of his +face. He could see the glow in her cheek and the pouting curve of her +mouth as she quieted the low rumbling in Kazan's throat. Thorpe stood +ready to pull back on the chain, but for a moment McCready was between +him and his wife, and he could not see McCready's face. The man's eyes +were not on Kazan. He was staring at the girl.</p> + +<p>"You're brave," he said. "I don't dare do that. He would take off my +hand!"</p> + +<p>He took the lantern from Thorpe and led the way to a narrow snow-path +branching off, from the track. Hidden back in the thick spruce was the +camp that Thorpe had left a fortnight before. There were two tents there +now in place of the one that he and his guide had used. A big fire was +burning in front of them. Close to the fire was a long sledge, and +fastened to trees just within the outer circle of firelight Kazan saw +the shadowy forms and gleaming eyes of his team-mates. He stood stiff +and motionless while Thorpe fastened him to a sledge. Once more he was +back in his forests—and in command. His mistress was laughing and +clapping her hands delightedly in the excitement of the strange and +wonderful life of which she had now become a part. Thorpe had thrown +back the flap of their tent, and she was entering ahead of him. She did +not look back. She spoke no word to him. He whined, and turned his red +eyes on McCready.</p> + +<p>In the tent Thorpe was saying:</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry old Jackpine wouldn't go back with us, Issy. He drove me +down, but for love or money I couldn't get him to return. He's a Mission +Indian, and I'd give a month's salary to have you see him handle the +dogs. I'm not sure about this man McCready. He's a queer chap, the +Company's agent here tells me, and knows the woods like a book. But dogs +don't like a stranger. Kazan isn't going to take to him worth a cent!"</p> + +<p>Kazan heard the girl's voice, and stood rigid and motionless listening +to it. He did not hear or see McCready when he came up stealthily behind +him. The man's voice came as suddenly as a shot at his heels.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pedro</i>!"</p> + +<p>In an instant Kazan cringed as if touched by a lash.</p> + +<p>"Got you that time—didn't I, you old devil!" whispered McCready, his +face strangely pale in the firelight. "Changed your name, eh? But I +<i>got</i> you—didn't I?"</p> + + + + +<a name="3"></a> +<h2>Chapter III</h2> + +<h3>McCready Pays The Debt</h3> + +<p>For a long time after he had uttered those words McCready sat in silence +beside the fire. Only for a moment or two at a time did his eyes leave +Kazan. After a little, when he was sure that Thorpe and Isobel had +retired for the night, he went into his own tent and returned with a +flask of whisky. During the next half-hour he drank frequently. Then he +went over and sat on the end of the sledge, just beyond the reach of +Kazan's chain.</p> + +<p>"Got you, didn't I?" he repeated, the effect of the liquor beginning to +show in the glitter of his eyes. "Wonder who changed your name, Pedro. +And how the devil did <i>he</i> come by you? Ho, ho, if you could only +talk—"</p> + +<p>They heard Thorpe's voice inside the tent. It was followed by a low +girlish peal of laughter, and McCready jerked himself erect. His face +blazed suddenly red, and he rose to his feet, dropping the flask in his +coat pocket. Walking around the fire, he tiptoed cautiously to the +shadow of a tree close to the tent and stood there for many minutes +listening. His eyes burned with a fiery madness when he returned to the +sledge and Kazan. It was midnight before he went into his own tent.</p> + +<p>In the warmth of the fire, Kazan's eyes slowly closed. He slumbered +uneasily, and his brain was filled with troubled pictures. At times he +was fighting, and his jaws snapped. At others he was straining at the +end of his chain, with McCready or his mistress just out of reach. He +felt the gentle touch of the girl's hand again and heard the wonderful +sweetness of her voice as she sang to him and his master, and his body +trembled and twitched with the thrills that had filled him that night. +And then the picture changed. He was running at the head of a splendid +team—six dogs of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police—and his master was +calling him Pedro! The scene shifted. They were in camp. His master was +young and smooth-faced and he helped from the sledge another man whose +hands were fastened in front of him by curious black rings. Again it was +later—and he was lying before a great fire. His master was sitting +opposite him, with his back to a tent, and as he looked, there came out +of the tent the man with the black rings—only now the rings were gone +and his hands were free, and in one of them he carried a heavy club. He +heard the terrible blow of the club as it fell on his master's head—and +the sound of it aroused him from his restless sleep.</p> + +<p>He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. +The fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that +precedes dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready. Again he was +standing close to the tent of his mistress, and he knew now that this +was the man who had worn the black iron rings, and that it was he who +had beaten him with whip and club for many long days after he had killed +his master. McCready heard the menace in his throat and came back +quickly to the fire. He began to whistle and draw the half-burned logs +together, and as the fire blazed up afresh he shouted to awaken Thorp +and Isobel. In a few minutes Thorpe appeared at the tent-flap and his +wife followed him out. Her loose hair rippled in billows of gold about +her shoulders and she sat down on the sledge, close to Kazan, and began +brushing it. McCready came up behind her and fumbled among the packages +on the sledge. As if by accident one of his hands buried itself for an +instant in the rich tresses that flowed down her back. She did not at +first feel the caressing touch of his fingers, and Thorpe's back was +toward them.</p> + +<p>Only Kazan saw the stealthy movement of the hand, the fondling clutch of +the fingers in her hair, and the mad passion burning in the eyes of the +man. Quicker than a lynx, the dog had leaped the length of his chain +across the sledge. McCready sprang back just in time, and as Kazan +reached the end of his chain he was jerked back so that his body struck +sidewise against the girl. Thorpe had turned in time to see the end of +the leap. He believed that Kazan had sprung at Isobel, and in his horror +no word or cry escaped his lips as he dragged her from where she had +half fallen over the sledge. He saw that she was not hurt, and he +reached for his revolver. It was in his holster in the tent. At his feet +was McCready's whip, and in the passion of the moment he seized it and +sprang upon Kazan. The dog crouched in the snow. He made no move to +escape or to attack. Only once in his life could he remember having +received a beating like that which Thorpe inflicted upon him now. But +not a whimper or a growl escaped him.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="002.jpg" alt="[Illustration: "Not another blow!"]" /></p> + +<p>And then, suddenly, his mistress ran forward and caught the whip poised +above Thorpe's head.</p> + +<p>"Not another blow!" she cried, and something in her voice held him from +striking. McCready did not hear what she said then, but a strange look +came into Thorpe's eyes, and without a word he followed his wife into +their tent.</p> + +<p>"Kazan did not leap at me," she whispered, and she was trembling with a +sudden excitement. Her face was deathly white. "That man was behind me," +she went on, clutching her husband by the arm. "I felt him touch me—and +then Kazan sprang. He wouldn't bite <i>me</i>. It's the <i>man</i>! There's +something—wrong—"</p> + +<p>She was almost sobbing, and Thorpe drew her close in his arms.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't thought before—but it's strange," he said. "Didn't McCready +say something about knowing the dog? It's possible. Perhaps he's had +Kazan before and abused him in a way that the dog has not forgotten. +To-morrow I'll find out. But until I know—will you promise to keep away +from Kazan?"</p> + +<p>Isobel gave the promise. When they came out from the tent Kazan lifted +his great head. The stinging lash had closed one of his eyes and his +mouth was dripping blood. Isobel gave a low sob, but did not go near +him. Half blinded, he knew that his mistress had stopped his punishment, +and he whined softly, and wagged his thick tail in the snow.</p> + +<p>Never had he felt so miserable as through the long hard hours of the day +that followed, when he broke the trail for his team-mates into the +North. One of his eyes was closed and filled with stinging fire, and his +body was sore from the blows of the caribou lash. But it was not +physical pain that gave the sullen droop to his head and robbed his body +of that keen quick alertness of the lead-dog—the commander of his +mates. It was his spirit. For the first time in his life, it was broken. +McCready had beaten him—long ago; his master had beaten him; and +during all this day their voices were fierce and vengeful in his ears. +But it was his mistress who hurt him most. She held aloof from him, +always beyond they reach of his leash; and when they stopped to rest, +and again in camp, she looked at him with strange and wondering eyes, +and did not speak. She, too, was ready to beat him. He believed that, +and so slunk away from her and crouched on his belly in the snow. With +him, a broken spirit meant a broken heart, and that night he lurked in +one of the deepest shadows about the camp-fire and grieved alone. None +knew that it was grief—unless it was the girl. She did not move toward +him. She did not speak to him. But she watched him closely—and studied +him hardest when he was looking at McCready.</p> + +<p>Later, after Thorpe and his wife had gone into their tent, it began to +snow, and the effect of the snow upon McCready puzzled Kazan. The man +was restless, and he drank frequently from the flask that he had used +the night before. In the firelight his face grew redder and redder, and +Kazan could see the strange gleam of his teeth as he gazed at the tent +in which his mistress was sleeping. Again and again he went close to +that tent, and listened. Twice he heard movement. The last time, it was +the sound of Thorpe's deep breathing. McCready hurried back to the fire +and turned his face straight up to the sky. The snow was falling so +thickly that when he lowered his face he blinked and wiped his eyes. +Then he went out into the gloom and bent low over the trail they had +made a few hours before. It was almost obliterated by the falling snow. +Another hour and there would be no trail—nothing the next day to tell +whoever might pass that they had come this way. By morning it would +cover everything, even the fire, if he allowed it to die down. McCready +drank again, out in the darkness. Low words of an insane joy burst from +his lips. His head was hot with a drunken fire. His heart beat madly, +but scarcely more furiously than did Kazan's when the dog saw that +McCready was returning <i>with a club</i>! The club he placed on end against +a tree. Then he took a lantern from the sledge and lighted it. He +approached Thorpe's tent-flap, the lantern in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Ho, Thorpe—Thorpe!" he called.</p> + +<p>There was no answer. He could hear Thorpe breathing. He drew the flap +aside a little, and raised his voice.</p> + +<p>"Thorpe!"</p> + +<p>Still there was no movement inside, and he untied the flap strings and +thrust in his lantern. The light flashed on Isobel's golden head, and +McCready stared at it, his eyes burning like red coals, until he saw +that Thorpe was awakening. Quickly he dropped the flap and rustled it +from the outside.</p> + +<p>"Ho, Thorpe!—Thorpe!" he called again.</p> + +<p>This time Thorpe replied.</p> + +<p>"Hello, McCready—is that you?"</p> + +<p>McCready drew the flap back a little, and spoke in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Can you come out a minute? Something's happening out in the woods. +Don't wake up your wife!"</p> + +<p>He drew back and waited. A minute later Thorpe came quietly out of the +tent. McCready pointed into the thick spruce.</p> + +<p>"I'll swear there's some one nosing around the camp," he said. "I'm +certain that I saw a man out there a few minutes ago, when I went for a +log. It's a good night for stealing dogs. Here—you take the lantern! If +I wasn't clean fooled, we'll find a trail in the snow."</p> + +<p>He gave Thorpe the lantern and picked up the heavy club. A growl rose in +Kazan's throat, but he choked it back. He wanted to snarl forth his +warning, to leap at the end of his leash, but he knew that if he did +that, they would return and beat him. So he lay still, trembling and +shivering, and whining softly. He watched them until they +disappeared—and then waited—listened. At last he heard the crunch of +snow. He was not surprised to see McCready come back alone. He had +expected him to return alone. For he knew what a club meant!</p> + +<p>McCready's face was terrible now. It was like a beast's. He was hatless. +Kazan slunk deeper in his shadow at the low horrible laugh that fell +from his lips—for the man still held the club. In a moment he dropped +that, and approached the tent. He drew back the flap and peered in. +Thorpe's wife was sleeping, and as quietly as a cat he entered and hung +the lantern on a nail in the tent-pole. His movement did not awaken her, +and for a few moments he stood there, staring—staring.</p> + +<p>Outside, crouching in the deep shadow, Kazan tried to fathom the meaning +of these strange things that were happening. Why had his master and +McCready gone out into the forest? Why had not his master returned? It +was his master, and not McCready, who belonged in that tent. Then why +was McCready there? He watched McCready as he entered, and suddenly the +dog was on his feet, his back tense and bristling, his limbs rigid. He +saw McCready's huge shadow on the canvas, and a moment later there came +a strange piercing cry. In the wild terror of that cry he recognized +<i>her</i> voice—and he leaped toward the tent. The leash stopped him, +choking the snarl in his throat. He saw the shadows struggling now, and +there came cry after cry. She was calling to his master, and with his +master's name she was calling <i>him</i>!</p> + +<p>"<i>Kazan</i>—<i>Kazan</i>—"</p> + +<p>He leaped again, and was thrown upon his back. A second and a third +time he sprang the length of the leash into the night, and the babiche +cord about his neck cut into his flesh like a knife. He stopped for an +instant, gasping for breath. The shadows were still fighting. Now they +were upright! Now they were crumpling down! With a fierce snarl he flung +his whole weight once more at the end of the chain. There was a snap, as +the thong about his neck gave way.</p> + +<p>In half a dozen bounds Kazan made the tent and rushed under the flap. +With a snarl he was at McCready's throat. The first snap of his powerful +jaws was death, but he did not know that. He knew only that his mistress +was there, and that he was fighting for her. There came one choking +gasping cry that ended with a terrible sob; it was McCready. The man +sank from his knees upon his back, and Kazan thrust his fangs deeper +into his enemy's throat; he felt the warm blood.</p> + +<p>The dog's mistress was calling to him now. She was pulling at his shaggy +neck. But he would not loose his hold—not for a long time. When he did, +his mistress looked down once upon the man and covered her face with +her hands. Then she sank down upon the blankets. She was very still. Her +face and hands were cold, and Kazan muzzled them tenderly. Her eyes were +closed. He snuggled up close against her, with his ready jaws turned +toward the dead man. Why was she so still, he wondered?</p> + +<p>A long time passed, and then she moved. Her eyes opened. Her hand +touched him.</p> + +<p>Then he heard a step outside.</p> + +<p>It was his master, and with that old thrill of fear—fear of the +club—he went swiftly to the door. Yes, there was his master in the +firelight—and in his hand he held the club. He was coming slowly, +almost falling at each step, and his face was red with blood. But he had +<i>the club</i>! He would beat him again—beat him terribly for hurting +McCready; so Kazan slipped quietly under the tent-flap and stole off +into the shadows. From out the gloom of the thick spruce he looked back, +and a low whine of love and grief rose and died softly in his throat. +They would beat him always now—after <i>that</i>. Even <i>she</i> would beat him. +They would hunt him down, and beat him when they found him.</p> + +<p>From out of the glow of the fire he turned his wolfish head to the +depths of the forest. There were no clubs or stinging lashes out in that +gloom. They would never find him there.</p> + +<p>For another moment he wavered. And then, as silently as one of the wild +creatures whose blood was partly his, he stole away into the blackness +of the night.</p> + + + + +<a name="4"></a> +<h2>Chapter IV</h2> + +<h3>Free From Bonds</h3> + +<p>There was a low moaning of the wind in the spruce-tops as Kazan slunk +off into the blackness and mystery of the forest. For hours he lay near +the camp, his red and blistered eyes gazing steadily at the tent wherein +the terrible thing had happened a little while before.</p> + +<p>He knew now what death was. He could tell it farther than man. He could +smell it in the air. And he knew that there was death all about him, and +that he was the cause of it. He lay on his belly in the deep snow and +shivered, and the three-quarters of him that was dog whined in a +grief-stricken way, while the quarter that was wolf still revealed +itself menacingly in his fangs, and in the vengeful glare of his eyes.</p> + +<p>Three times the man—his master—came out of the tent, and shouted +loudly, "Kazan—Kazan—Kazan!"</p> + +<p>Three times the woman came with him. In the firelight Kazan could see +her shining hair streaming about her, as he had seen it in the tent, +when he had leaped up and killed the other man. In her blue eyes there +was the same wild terror, and her face was white as the snow. And the +second and third time, she too called, "Kazan—Kazan—Kazan!"—and all +that part of him that was dog, and not wolf, trembled joyously at the +sound of her voice, and he almost crept in to take his beating. But fear +of the club was the greater, and he held back, hour after hour, until +now it was silent again in the tent, and he could no longer see their +shadows, and the fire was dying down.</p> + +<p>Cautiously he crept out from the thick gloom, working his way on his +belly toward the packed sledge, and what remained of the burned logs. +Beyond that sledge, hidden in the darkness of the trees, was the body of +the man he had killed, covered with a blanket. Thorpe, his master, had +dragged it there.</p> + +<p>He lay down, with his nose to the warm coals and his eyes leveled +between his forepaws, straight at the closed tent-flap. He meant to +keep awake, to watch, to be ready to slink off into the forest at the +first movement there. But a warmth was rising from out of the gray ash +of the fire-bed, and his eyes closed. Twice—three times—he fought +himself back into watchfulness; but the last time his eyes came only +half open, and closed heavily again.</p> + +<p>And now, in his sleep, he whined softly, and the splendid muscles of his +legs and shoulders twitched, and sudden shuddering ripples ran along his +tawny spine. Thorpe, who was in the tent, if he had seen him, would have +known that he was dreaming. And Thorpe's wife, whose golden head lay +close against his breast, and who shuddered and trembled now and then +even as Kazan was doing, would have known what he was dreaming about.</p> + +<p>In his sleep he was leaping again at the end of his chain. His jaws +snapped like castanets of steel,—and the sound awakened him, and he +sprang to his feet, his spine as stiff as a brush, and his snarling +fangs bared like ivory knives. He had awakened just in time. There was +movement in the tent. His master was awake, and if he did not escape—</p> + +<p>He sped swiftly into the thick spruce, and paused, flat and hidden, with +only his head showing from behind a tree. He knew that his master would +not spare him. Three times Thorpe had beaten him for snapping at +McCready. The last time he would have shot him if the girl had not saved +him. And now he had torn McCready's throat. He had taken the life from +him, and his master would not spare him. Even the woman could not save +him.</p> + +<p>Kazan was sorry that his master had returned, dazed and bleeding, after +he had torn McCready's jugular. Then he would have had her always. She +would have loved him. She did love him. And he would have followed her, +and fought for her always, and died for her when the time came. But +Thorpe had come in from the forest again, and Kazan had slunk away +quickly—for Thorpe meant to him what all men meant to him now: the +club, the whip and the strange things that spat fire and death. And +now—</p> + +<p>Thorpe had come out from the tent. It was approaching dawn, and in his +hand he held a rifle. A moment later the girl came out, and her hand +caught the man's arm. They looked toward the thing covered by the +blanket. Then she spoke to Thorpe and he suddenly straightened and +threw back his head.</p> + +<p>"H-o-o-o-o—Kazan—Kazan—Kazan!" he called.</p> + +<p>A shiver ran through Kazan. The man was trying to inveigle him back. He +had in his hand the thing that killed.</p> + +<p>"Kazan—Kazan—Ka-a-a-a-zan!" he shouted again.</p> + +<p>Kazan sneaked cautiously back from the tree. He knew that distance meant +nothing to the cold thing of death that Thorpe held in his hand. He +turned his head once, and whined softly, and for an instant a great +longing filled his reddened eyes as he saw the last of the girl.</p> + +<p>He knew, now, that he was leaving her forever, and there was an ache in +his heart that had never been there before, a pain that was not of the +club or whip, of cold or hunger, but which was greater than them all, +and which filled him with a desire to throw back his head and cry out +his loneliness to the gray emptiness of the sky.</p> + +<p>Back in the camp the girl's voice quivered.</p> + +<p>"He is gone."</p> + +<p>The man's strong voice choked a little.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is gone. <i>He knew</i>—and I didn't. I'd give—a year of my +life—if I hadn't whipped him yesterday and last night. He won't come +back."</p> + +<p>Isobel Thorpe's hand tightened on his arm.</p> + +<p>"He will!" she cried. "He won't leave me. He loved me, if he was savage +and terrible. And he knows that I love him. He'll come back—"</p> + +<p>"Listen!"</p> + +<p>From deep in the forest there came a long wailing howl, filled with a +plaintive sadness. It was Kazan's farewell to the woman.</p> + +<p>After that cry Kazan sat for a long time on his haunches, sniffing the +new freedom of the air, and watching the deep black pits in the forest +about him, as they faded away before dawn. 'Now and then, since the day +the traders had first bought him and put him into sledge-traces away +over on the Mackenzie, he had often thought of this freedom longingly, +the wolf blood in him urging him to take it. But he had never quite +dared. It thrilled him now. There were no clubs here, no whips, none of +the man-beasts whom he had first learned to distrust, and then to hate. +It was his misfortune—that quarter-strain of wolf; and the clubs, +instead of subduing him, had added to the savagery that was born in him. +Men had been his worst enemies. They had beaten him time and again until +he was almost dead. They called him "bad," and stepped wide of him, and +never missed the chance to snap a whip over his back. His body was +covered with scars they had given him.</p> + +<p>He had never felt kindness, or love, until the first night the woman had +put her warm little hand on his head, and had snuggled her face close +down to his, while Thorpe—her husband—had cried out in horror. He had +almost buried his fangs in her white flesh, but in an instant her gentle +touch, and her sweet voice, had sent through him that wonderful thrill +that was his first knowledge of love. And now it was a man who was +driving him from her, away from the hand that had never held a club or a +whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper into the forest.</p> + +<p>He came to the edge of a swamp as day broke. For a time he had been +filled with a strange uneasiness, and light did not quite dispel it. At +last he was free of men. He could detect nothing that reminded him of +their hated presence in the air. But neither could he smell the presence +of other dogs, of the sledge, the fire, of companionship and food, and +so far back as he could remember they had always been a part of his +life.</p> + +<p>Here it was very quiet. The swamp lay in a hollow between two +ridge-mountains, and the spruce and cedar grew low and thick—so thick +that there was almost no snow under them, and day was like twilight. Two +things he began to miss more than all others—food and company. Both the +wolf and the dog that was in him demanded the first, and that part of +him that was dog longed for the latter. To both desires the wolf blood +that was strong in him rose responsively. It told him that somewhere in +this silent world between the two ridges there was companionship, and +that all he had to do to find it was to sit back on his haunches, and +cry out his loneliness. More than once something trembled in his deep +chest, rose in his throat, and ended there in a whine. It was the wolf +howl, not yet quite born.</p> + +<p>Food came more easily than voice. Toward midday he cornered a big white +rabbit under a log, and killed it. The warm flesh and blood was better +than frozen fish, or tallow and bran, and the feast he had gave him +confidence. That afternoon he chased many rabbits, and killed two more. +Until now, he had never known the delight of pursuing and killing at +will, even though he did not eat all he killed.</p> + +<p>But there was no fight in the rabbits. They died too easily. They were +very sweet and tender to eat, when he was hungry, but the first thrill +of killing them passed away after a time. He wanted something bigger. He +no longer slunk along as if he were afraid, or as if he wanted to remain +hidden. He held his head up. His back bristled. His tail swung free and +bushy, like a wolf's. Every hair in his body quivered with the electric +energy of life and action. He traveled north and west. It was the call +of early days—the days away up on the Mackenzie. The Mackenzie was a +thousand miles away.</p> + +<p>He came upon many trails in the snow that day, and sniffed the scents +left by the hoofs of moose and caribou, and the fur-padded feet of a +lynx. He followed a fox, and the trail led him to a place shut in by +tall spruce, where the snow was beaten down and reddened with blood. +There was an owl's head, feathers, wings and entrails lying here, and he +knew that there were other hunters abroad besides himself.</p> + +<p>Toward evening he came upon tracks in the snow that were very much like +his own. They were quite fresh, and there was a warm scent about them +that made him whine, and filled him again with that desire to fall back +upon his haunches and send forth the wolf-cry. This desire grew stronger +in him as the shadows of night deepened in the forest. He had traveled +all day, but he was not tired. There was something about night, now that +there were no men near, that exhilarated him strangely. The wolf blood +in him ran swifter and swifter. To-night it was clear. The sky was +filled with stars. The moon rose. And at last he settled back in the +snow and turned his head straight up to the spruce-tops, and the wolf +came out of him in a long mournful cry which quivered through the still +night for miles.</p> + +<p>For a long time he sat and listened after that howl. He had found +voice—a voice with a strange new note in it, and it gave him still +greater confidence. He had expected an answer, but none came. He had +traveled in the face of the wind, and as he howled, a bull moose crashed +through the scrub timber ahead of him, his horns rattling against the +trees like the tattoo of a clear birch club as he put distance between +himself and that cry.</p> + +<p>Twice Kazan howled before he went on, and he found joy in the practise +of that new note. He came then to the foot of a rough ridge, and turned +up out of the swamp to the top of it. The stars and the moon were nearer +to him there, and on the other side of the ridge he looked down upon a +great sweeping plain, with a frozen lake glistening in the moonlight, +and a white river leading from it off into timber that was neither so +thick nor so black as that in the swamp.</p> + +<p>And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped. From +far off in the plain there came a cry. It was <i>his</i> cry—the wolf-cry. +His jaws snapped. His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his +throat. He wanted to reply, but some strange instinct urged him not to. +That instinct of the wild was already becoming master of him. In the +air, in the whispering of the spruce-tops, in the moon and the stars +themselves, there breathed a spirit which told him that what he had +heard was the wolf-cry, but that it was not the wolf <i>call</i>.</p> + +<p>The other came an hour later, clear and distinct, that same wailing howl +at the beginning—but ending in a staccato of quick sharp yelps that +stirred his blood at once into a fiery excitement that it had never +known before. The same instinct told him that this was the call—the +hunt-cry. It urged him to come quickly. A few moments later it came +again, and this time there was a reply from close down along the foot of +the ridge, and another from so far away that Kazan could scarcely hear +it. The hunt-pack was gathering for the night chase; but Kazan sat quiet +and trembling.</p> + +<p>He was not afraid, but he was not ready to go. The ridge seemed to split +the world for him. Down there it was new, and strange, and without men. +From the other side something seemed pulling him back, and suddenly he +turned his head and gazed back through the moonlit space behind him, and +whined. It was the dog-whine now. The woman was back there. He could +hear her voice. He could feel the touch of her soft hand. He could see +the laughter in her face and eyes, the laughter that had made him warm +and happy. She was calling to him through the forests, and he was torn +between desire to answer that call, and desire to go down into the +plain. For he could also see many men waiting for him with clubs, and he +could hear the cracking of whips, and feel the sting of their lashes.</p> + +<p>For a long time he remained on the top of the ridge that divided his +world. And then, at last, he turned and went down into the plain.</p> + +<p>All that night he kept close to the hunt-pack, but never quite +approached it. This was fortunate for him. He still bore the scent of +traces, and of man. The pack would have torn him into pieces. The first +instinct of the wild is that of self-preservation. It may have been +this, a whisper back through the years of savage forebears, that made +Kazan roll in the snow now and then where the feet of the pack had trod +the thickest.</p> + +<p>That night the pack killed a caribou on the edge of the lake, and +feasted until nearly dawn. Kazan hung in the face of the wind. The smell +of blood and of warm flesh tickled his nostrils, and his sharp ears +could catch the cracking of bones. But the instinct was stronger than +the temptation.</p> + +<p>Not until broad day, when the pack had scattered far and wide over the +plain, did he go boldly to the scene of the kill. He found nothing but +an area of blood-reddened snow, covered with bones, entrails and torn +bits of tough hide. But it was enough, and he rolled in it, and buried +his nose in what was left, and remained all that day close to it, +saturating himself with the scent of it.</p> + +<p>That night, when the moon and the stars came out again, he sat back with +fear and hesitation no longer in him, and announced himself to his new +comrades of the great plain.</p> + +<p>The pack hunted again that night, or else it was a new pack that started +miles to the south, and came up with a doe caribou to the big frozen +lake. The night was almost as clear as day, and from the edge of the +forest Kazan first saw the caribou run out on the lake a third of a mile +away. The pack was about a dozen strong, and had already split into the +fatal horseshoe formation, the two leaders running almost abreast of the +kill, and slowly closing in.</p> + +<p>With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out into the moonlight. He was directly +in the path of the fleeing doe, and bore down upon her with lightning +speed. Two hundred yards away the doe saw him, and swerved to the right, +and the leader on that side met her with open jaws. Kazan was in with +the second leader, and leaped at the doe's soft throat. In a snarling +mass the pack closed in from behind, and the doe went down, with Kazan +half under her body, his fangs sunk deep in her jugular. She lay heavily +on him, but he did not lose his hold. It was his first big kill. His +blood ran like fire. He snarled between his clamped teeth.</p> + +<p>Not until the last quiver had left the body over him did he pull himself +out from under her chest and forelegs. He had killed a rabbit that day +and was not hungry. So he sat back in the snow and waited, while the +ravenous pack tore at the dead doe. After a little he came nearer, nosed +in between two of them, and was nipped for his intrusion.</p> + +<p>As Kazan drew back, still hesitating to mix with his wild brothers, a +big gray form leaped out of the pack and drove straight for his throat. +He had just time to throw his shoulder to the attack, and for a moment +the two rolled over and over in the snow. They were up before the +excitement of sudden battle had drawn the pack from the feast. Slowly +they circled about each other, their white fangs bare, their yellowish +backs bristling like brushes. The fatal ring of wolves drew about the +fighters.</p> + +<p>It was not new to Kazan. A dozen times he had sat in rings like this, +waiting for the final moment. More than once he had fought for his life +within the circle. It was the sledge-dog way of fighting. Unless man +interrupted with a club or a whip it always ended in death. Only one +fighter could come out alive. Sometimes both died. And there was no man +here—only that fatal cordon of waiting white-fanged demons, ready to +leap upon and tear to pieces the first of the fighters who was thrown +upon his side or back. Kazan was a stranger, but he did not fear those +that hemmed him in. The one great law of the pack would compel them to +be fair.</p> + +<p>He kept his eyes only on the big gray leader who had challenged him. +Shoulder to shoulder they continued to circle. Where a few moments +before there had been the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh +there was now silence. Soft-footed and soft-throated mongrel dogs from +the South would have snarled and growled, but Kazan and the wolf were +still, their ears laid forward instead of back, their tails free and +bushy.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the wolf struck in with the swiftness of lightning, and his +jaws came together with the sharpness of steel striking steel. They +missed by an inch. In that same instant Kazan darted in to the side, and +like knives his teeth gashed the wolf's flank.</p> + +<p>They circled again, their eyes growing redder, their lips drawn back +until they seemed to have disappeared. And then Kazan leaped for that +death-grip at the throat—and missed. It was only by an inch again, and +the wolf came back, as he had done, and laid open Kazan's flank so that +the blood ran down his leg and reddened the snow. The burn of that +flank-wound told Kazan that his enemy was old in the game of fighting. +He crouched low, his head straight out, and his throat close to the +snow. It was a trick Kazan had learned in puppyhood—to shield his +throat, and wait.</p> + +<p>Twice the wolf circled about him, and Kazan pivoted slowly, his eyes +half closed. A second time the wolf leaped, and Kazan threw up his +terrible jaws, sure of that fatal grip just in front of the forelegs. +His teeth snapped on empty air. With the nimbleness of a cat the wolf +had gone completely over his back.</p> + +<p>The trick had failed, and with a rumble of the dog-snarl in his throat, +Kazan reached the wolf in a single bound. They met breast to breast. +Their fangs clashed and with the whole weight of his body, Kazan flung +himself against the wolf's shoulders, cleared his jaws, and struck again +for the throat hold. It was another miss—by a hair's breadth—and +before he could recover, the wolf's teeth were buried in the back of +his neck.</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life Kazan felt the terror and the pain of the +death-grip, and with a mighty effort he flung his head a little forward +and snapped blindly. His powerful jaws closed on the wolf's foreleg, +close to the body. There was a cracking of bone and a crunching of +flesh, and the circle of waiting wolves grew tense and alert. One or the +other of the fighters was sure to go down before the holds were broken, +and they but awaited that fatal fall as a signal to leap in to the +death.</p> + +<p>Only the thickness of hair and hide on the back of Kazan's neck, and the +toughness of his muscles, saved him from that terrible fate of the +vanquished. The wolf's teeth sank deep, but not deep enough to reach the +vital spot, and suddenly Kazan put every ounce of strength in his limbs +to the effort, and flung himself up bodily from under his antagonist. +The grip on his neck relaxed, and with another rearing leap he tore +himself free.</p> + +<p>As swift as a whip-lash he whirled on the broken-legged leader of the +pack and with the full rush and weight of his shoulders struck him +fairly in the side. More deadly than the throat-grip had Kazan sometimes +found the lunge when delivered at the right moment. It was deadly now. +The big gray wolf lost his feet, rolled upon his back for an instant, +and the pack rushed in, eager to rend the last of life from the leader +whose power had ceased to exist.</p> + +<p>From out of that gray, snarling, bloody-lipped mass, Kazan drew back, +panting and bleeding. He was weak. There was a curious sickness in his +head. He wanted to lie down in the snow. But the old and infallible +instinct warned him not to betray that weakness. From out of the pack a +slim, lithe, gray she-wolf came up to him, and lay down in the snow +before him, and then rose swiftly and sniffed at his wounds.</p> + +<p>She was young and strong and beautiful, but Kazan did not look at her. +Where the fight had been he was looking, at what little remained of the +old leader. The pack had returned to the feast. He heard again the +cracking of bones and the rending of flesh, and something told him that +hereafter all the wilderness would hear and recognize his voice, and +that when he sat back on his haunches and called to the moon and the +stars, those swift-footed hunters of the big plain would respond to it. +He circled twice about the caribou and the pack, and then trotted off to +the edge of the black spruce forest.</p> + +<p>When he reached the shadows he looked back. Gray Wolf was following him. +She was only a few yards behind. And now she came up to him, a little +timidly, and she, too, looked back to the dark blotch of life out on the +lake. And as she stood there close beside him, Kazan sniffed at +something in the air that was not the scent of blood, nor the perfume of +the balsam and spruce. It was a thing that seemed to come to him from +the clear stars, the cloudless moon, the strange and beautiful quiet of +the night itself. And its presence seemed to be a part of Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>He looked at her, and he found Gray Wolf's eyes alert and questioning. +She was young—so young that she seemed scarcely to have passed out of +puppyhood. Her body was strong and slim and beautifully shaped. In the +moonlight the hair under her throat and along her back shone sleek and +soft. She whined at the red staring light in Kazan's eyes, and it was +not a puppy's whimper. Kazan moved toward her, and stood with his head +over her back, facing the pack. He felt her trembling against his chest. +He looked at the moon and the stars again, the mystery of Gray Wolf and +of the night throbbing in his blood.</p> + +<p>Not much of his life had been spent at the posts. Most of it had been on +the trail—in the traces—and the spirit of the mating season had only +stirred him from afar. But it was very near now. Gray Wolf lifted her +head. Her soft muzzle touched the wound on his neck, and in the +gentleness of that touch, in the low sound in her throat, Kazan felt and +heard again that wonderful something that had come with the caress of +the woman's hand and the sound of her voice.</p> + +<p>He turned, whining, his back bristling, his head high and defiant of the +wilderness which he faced. Gray Wolf trotted close at his side as they +entered into the gloom of the forest.</p> + + + + +<a name="5"></a> +<h2>Chapter V</h2> + +<h3>The Fight In The Snow</h3> + +<p>They found shelter that night under thick balsam, and when they lay down +on the soft carpet of needles which the snow had not covered, Gray Wolf +snuggled her warm body close to Kazan and licked his wounds. The day +broke with a velvety fall of snow, so white and thick that they could +not see a dozen leaps ahead of them in the open. It was quite warm, and +so still that the whole world seemed filled with only the flutter and +whisper of the snowflakes. Through this day Kazan and Gray Wolf traveled +side by side. Time and again he turned his head back to the ridge over +which he had come, and Gray Wolf could not understand the strange note +that trembled in his throat.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon they returned to what was left of the caribou doe on +the lake. In the edge of the forest Gray Wolf hung back. She did not yet +know the meaning of poison-baits, deadfalls and traps, but the instinct +of numberless generations was in her veins, and it told her there was +danger in visiting a second time a thing that had grown cold in death.</p> + +<p>Kazan had seen masters work about carcasses that the wolves had left. He +had seen them conceal traps cleverly, and roll little capsules of +strychnine in the fat of the entrails, and once he had put a foreleg in +a trap, and had experienced its sting and pain and deadly grip. But he +did not have Gray Wolf's fear. He urged her to accompany him to the +white hummocks on the ice, and at last she went with him and sank back +restlessly on her haunches, while he dug out the bones and pieces of +flesh that the snow had kept from freezing. But she would not eat, and +at last Kazan went and sat on his haunches at her side, and with her +looked at what he had dug out from under the snow. He sniffed the air. +He could not smell danger, but Gray Wolf told him that it might be +there.</p> + +<p>She told him many other things in the days and nights that followed. The +third night Kazan himself gathered the hunt-pack and led in the chase. +Three times that month, before the moon left the skies, he led the +chase, and each time there was a kill. But as the snows began to grow +softer under his feet he found a greater and greater companionship in +Gray Wolf, and they hunted alone, living on the big white rabbits. In +all the world he had loved but two things, the girl with the shining +hair and the hands that had caressed him—and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>He did not leave the big plain, and often He took his mate to the top of +the ridge, and he would try to tell her what he had left back there. +With the dark nights the call of the woman became so strong upon him +that he was filled with a longing to go back, and take Gray Wolf with +him.</p> + +<p>Something happened very soon after that. They were crossing the open +plain one day when up on the face of the ridge Kazan saw something that +made his heart stand still. A man, with a dog-sledge and team, was +coming down into their world. The wind had not warned them, and suddenly +Kazan saw something glisten in the man's hands. He knew what it was. It +was the thing that spat fire and thunder, and killed.</p> + +<p>He gave his warning to Gray Wolf, and they were off like the wind, side +by side. And then came the <i>sound</i>—and Kazan's hatred of men burst +forth in a snarl as he leaped. There was a queer humming over their +heads. The sound from behind came again, and this time Gray Wolf gave a +yelp of pain, and rolled over and over in the snow. She was on her feet +again in an instant, and Kazan dropped behind her, and ran there until +they reached the shelter of the timber. Gray Wolf lay down, and began +licking the wound in her shoulder. Kazan faced the ridge. The man was +taking up their trail. He stopped where Gray Wolf had fallen, and +examined the snow. Then he came on.</p> + +<p>Kazan urged Gray Wolf to her feet, and they made for the thick swamp +close to the lake. All that day they kept in the face of the wind, and +when Gray Wolf lay down Kazan stole back over their trail, watching and +sniffing the air.</p> + +<p>For days after that Gray Wolf ran lame, and when once they came upon the +remains of an old camp, Kazan's teeth were bared in snarling hatred of +the man-scent that had been left behind. Growing in him there was a +desire for vengeance—vengeance for his own hurts, and for Gray Wolf's. +He tried to nose out the man-trail under the cover of fresh snow, and +Gray Wolf circled around him anxiously, and tried to lure him deeper +into the forest. At last he followed her sullenly. There was a savage +redness in his eyes.</p> + +<p>Three days later the new moon came. And on the fifth night Kazan struck +a trail. It was fresh—so fresh that he stopped as suddenly as though +struck by a bullet when he ran upon it, and stood with every muscle in +his body quivering, and his hair on end. It was a man-trail. There were +the marks of the sledge, the dogs' feet, and the snow-shoeprints of his +enemy.</p> + +<p>Then he threw up his head to the stars, and from his throat there rolled +out over the wide plains the hunt-cry—the wild and savage call for the +pack. Never had he put the savagery in it that was there to-night. Again +and again he sent forth that call, and then there came an answer and +another and still another, until Gray Wolf herself sat back on her +haunches and added her voice to Kazan's, and far out on the plain a +white and haggard-faced man halted his exhausted dogs to listen, while a +voice said faintly from the sledge:</p> + +<p>"The wolves, father. Are they coming—after us?"</p> + +<p>The man was silent. He was not young. The moon shone in his long white +beard, and added grotesquely to the height of his tall gaunt figure. A +girl had raised her head from a bearskin pillow on the sleigh. Her dark +eyes were filled beautifully with the starlight. She was pale. Her hair +fell in a thick shining braid over her shoulder, and she was hugging +something tightly to her breast.</p> + +<p>"They're on the trail of something—probably a deer," said the man, +looking at the breech of his rifle. "Don't worry, Jo. We'll stop at the +next bit of scrub and see if we can't find enough dry stuff for a +fire.—Wee-ah-h-h-h, boys! Koosh—koosh—" and he snapped his whip over +the backs of his team.</p> + +<p>From the bundle at the girl's breast there came a small wailing cry. And +far back in the plain there answered it the scattered voice of the pack.</p> + +<p>At last Kazan was on the trail of vengeance. He ran slowly at first, +with Gray Wolf close beside him, pausing every three or four hundred +yards to send forth the cry. A gray leaping form joined them from +behind. Another followed. Two came in from the side, and Kazan's +solitary howl gave place to the wild tongue of the pack. Numbers +grew, and with increasing number the pace became swifter. +Four—six—seven—ten—fourteen, by the time the more open and +wind-swept part of the plain was reached.</p> + +<p>It was a strong pack, filled with old and fearless hunters. Gray Wolf +was the youngest, and she kept close to Kazan's shoulders. She could see +nothing of his red-shot eyes and dripping jaws, and would not have +understood if she had seen. But she could <i>feel</i> and she was thrilled by +the spirit of that strange and mysterious savagery that had made Kazan +forget all things but hurt and death.</p> + +<p>The pack made no sound. There was only the panting of breath and the +soft fall of many feet. They ran swiftly and close. And always Kazan was +a leap ahead, with Gray Wolf nosing his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Never had he wanted to kill as he felt the desire in him to kill now. +For the first time he had no fear of man, no fear of the club, of the +whip, or of the thing that blazed forth fire and death. He ran more +swiftly, in order to overtake them and give them battle sooner. All of +the pent-up madness of four years of slavery and abuse at the hands of +men broke loose in thin red streams of fire in his veins, and when at +last he saw a moving blotch far out on the plain ahead of him, the cry +that came out of his throat was one that Gray Wolf did not understand.</p> + +<p>Three hundred yards beyond that moving blotch was the thin line of +timber, and Kazan and his followers bore down swiftly. Half-way to the +timber they were almost upon it, and suddenly it stopped and became a +black and motionless shadow on the snow. From out of it there leaped +that lightning tongue of flame that Kazan had always dreaded, and he +heard the hissing song of the death-bee over his head. He did not mind +it now. He yelped sharply, and the wolves raced in until four of them +were neck-and-neck with him.</p> + +<p>A second flash—and the death-bee drove from breast to tail of a huge +gray fighter close to Gray Wolf. A third—a fourth—a fifth spurt of +that fire from the black shadow, and Kazan himself felt a sudden swift +passing of a red-hot thing along his shoulder, where the man's last +bullet shaved off the hair and stung his flesh.</p> + +<p>Three of the pack had gone down under the fire of the rifle, and half of +the others were swinging to the right and the left. But Kazan drove +straight ahead. Faithfully Gray Wolf followed him.</p> + +<p>The sledge-dogs had been freed from their traces, and before he could +reach the man, whom he saw with his rifle held like a club in his hands, +Kazan was met by the fighting mass of them. He fought like a fiend, and +there was the strength and the fierceness of two mates in the mad +gnashing of Gray Wolf's fangs. Two of the wolves rushed in, and Kazan +heard the terrific, back-breaking thud of the rifle. To him it was the +<i>club</i>. He wanted to reach it. He wanted to reach the man who held it, +and he freed himself from the fighting mass of the dogs and sprang to +the sledge. For the first time he saw that there was something human on +the sledge, and in an instant he was upon it. He buried his jaws deep. +They sank in something soft and hairy, and he opened them for another +lunge. And then he heard the voice! It was <i>her voice</i>! Every muscle in +his body stood still. He became suddenly like flesh turned to lifeless +stone.</p> + +<p><i>Her voice</i>! The bear rug was thrown back and what had been hidden under +it he saw clearly now in the light of the moon and the stars. In him +instinct worked more swiftly than human brain could have given birth to +reason. It was not <i>she</i>. But the voice was the same, and the white +girlish face so close to his own blood-reddened eyes held in it that +same mystery that he had learned to love. And he saw now that which she +was clutching to her breast, and there came from it a strange thrilling +cry—and he knew that here on the sledge he had found not enmity and +death, but that from which he had been driven away in the other world +beyond the ridge.</p> + +<p>In a flash he turned. He snapped at Gray Wolf's flank, and she dropped +away with a startled yelp. It had all happened in a moment, but the man +was almost down. Kazan leaped under his clubbed rifle and drove into the +face of what was left of the pack. His fangs cut like knives. If he had +fought like a demon against the dogs, he fought like ten demons now, and +the man—bleeding and ready to fall—staggered back to the sledge, +marveling at what was happening. For in Gray Wolf there was now the +instinct of matehood, and seeing Kazan tearing and righting the pack she +joined him in the struggle which she could not understand.</p> + +<p>When it was over, Kazan and Gray Wolf were alone out on the plain. The +pack had slunk away into the night, and the same moon and stars that had +given to Kazan the first knowledge of his birthright told him now that +no longer would those wild brothers of the plains respond to his call +when he howled into the sky.</p> + +<p>He was hurt. And Gray Wolf was hurt, but not so badly as Kazan. He was +torn and bleeding. One of his legs was terribly bitten. After a time he +saw a fire in the edge of the forest. The old call was strong upon him. +He wanted to crawl in to it, and feel the girl's hand on his head, as +he had felt that other hand in the world beyond the ridge. He would have +gone—and would have urged Gray Wolf to go with him—but the man was +there. He whined, and Gray Wolf thrust her warm muzzle against his neck. +Something told them both that they were outcasts, that the plains, and +the moon, and the stars were against them now, and they slunk into the +shelter and the gloom of the forest.</p> + +<p>Kazan could not go far. He could still smell the camp when he lay down. +Gray Wolf snuggled close to him. Gently she soothed with her soft tongue +Kazan's bleeding wounds. And Kazan, lifting his head, whined softly to +the stars.</p> + + + + +<a name="6"></a> +<h2>Chapter VI</h2> + +<h3>Joan</h3> + +<p>On the edge of the cedar and spruce forest old Pierre Radisson built the +fire. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds, where the fangs of the wolves +had reached to his flesh, and he felt in his breast that old and +terrible pain, of which no one knew the meaning but himself. He dragged +in log after log, piled them on the fire until the flames leaped tip to +the crisping needles of the limbs above, and heaped a supply close at +hand for use later in the night.</p> + +<p>From the sledge Joan watched him, still wild-eyed and fearful, still +trembling. She was holding her baby close to her breast. Her long heavy +hair smothered her shoulders and arms in a dark lustrous veil that +glistened and rippled in the firelight when she moved. Her young face +was scarcely a woman's to-night, though she was a mother. She looked +like a child.</p> + +<p>Old Pierre laughed as he threw down the last armful of fuel, and stood +breathing hard.</p> + +<p>"It was close, <i>ma cheri</i>" he panted through his white beard. "We were +nearer to death out there on the plain than we will ever be again, I +hope. But we are comfortable now, and warm. Eh? You are no longer +afraid?"</p> + +<p>He sat down beside his daughter, and gently pulled back the soft fur +that enveloped the bundle she held in her arms. He could see one pink +cheek of baby Joan. The eyes of Joan, the mother, were like stars.</p> + +<p>"It was the baby who saved us," she whispered. "The dogs were being torn +to pieces by the wolves, and I saw them leaping upon you, when one of +them sprang to the sledge. At first I thought it was one of the dogs. +But it was a wolf. He tore once at us, and the bearskin saved us. He was +almost at my throat when baby cried, and then he stood there, his red +eyes a foot from us, and I could have sworn again that he was a dog. In +an instant he turned, and was fighting the wolves. I saw him leap upon +one that was almost at your throat."</p> + +<p>"He <i>was</i> a dog," said old Pierre, holding out his hands to the warmth. +"They often wander away from the posts, and join the wolves. I have had +dogs do that. <i>Ma cheri</i>, a dog is a dog all his life. Kicks, abuse, +even the wolves can not change him—for long. He was one of the pack. He +came with them—to kill. But when he found <i>us</i>—"</p> + +<p>"He fought for us," breathed the girl. She gave him the bundle, and +stood up, straight and tall and slim in the firelight. "He fought for +us—and he was terribly hurt," she said. "I saw him drag himself away. +Father, if he is out there—dying—"</p> + +<p>Pierre Radisson stood up. He coughed in a shuddering way, trying to +stifle the sound under his beard. The fleck of crimson that came to his +lips with the cough Joan did not see. She had seen nothing of it during +the six days they had been traveling up from the edge of civilization. +Because of that cough, and the stain that came with it, Pierre had made +more than ordinary haste.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking of that," he said. "He was badly hurt, and I do +not think he went far. Here—take little Joan and sit close to the fire +until I come back."</p> + +<p>The moon and the stars were brilliant in the sky when he went out in the +plain. A short distance from the edge of the timber-line he stood for a +moment upon the spot where the wolves had overtaken them an hour before. +Not one of his four dogs had lived. The snow was red with their blood, +and their bodies lay stiff where they had fallen under the pack. Pierre +shuddered as he looked at them. If the wolves had not turned their first +mad attack upon the dogs, what would have become of himself, Joan and +the baby? He turned away, with another of those hollow coughs that +brought the blood to his lips.</p> + +<p>A few yards to one side he found in the snow the trail of the strange +dog that had come with the wolves, and had turned against them in that +moment when all seemed lost. It was not a clean running trail. It was +more of a furrow in the snow, and Pierre Radisson followed it, expecting +to find the dog dead at the end of it.</p> + +<p>In the sheltered spot to which he had dragged himself in the edge of the +forest Kazan lay for a long time after the fight, alert and watchful. +He felt no very great pain. But he had lost the power to stand upon his +legs. His flanks seemed paralyzed. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, +sniffing the air. They could smell the camp, and Kazan could detect the +two things that were there—<i>man</i> and <i>woman</i>. He knew that the girl was +there, where he could see the glow of the firelight through the spruce +and the cedars. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to drag himself close +in to the fire, and take Gray Wolf with him, and listen to her voice, +and feel the touch of her hand. But the man was there, and to him man +had always meant the club, the whip, pain, death.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf crouched close to his side, and whined softly as she urged +Kazan to flee deeper with her into the forest. At last she understood +that he could not move, and she ran nervously out into the plain, and +back again, until her footprints were thick in the trail she made. The +instincts of matehood were strong in her. It was she who first saw +Pierre Radisson coming over their trail, and she ran swiftly back to +Kazan and gave the warning.</p> + +<p>Then Kazan caught the scent, and he saw the shadowy figure coming +through the starlight. He tried to drag himself back, but he could move +only by inches. The man came rapidly nearer. Kazan caught the glisten of +the rifle in his hand. He heard his hollow cough, and the tread of his +feet in the snow. Gray Wolf crouched shoulder to shoulder with him, +trembling and showing her teeth. When Pierre had approached within fifty +feet of them she slunk back into the deeper shadows of the spruce.</p> + +<p>Kazan's fangs were bared menacingly when Pierre stopped and looked down +at him. With an effort he dragged himself to his feet, but fell back +into the snow again. The man leaned his rifle against a sapling and bent +over him fearlessly. With a fierce growl Kazan snapped at his extended +hands. To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club. He +held out his hand again—cautiously—and spoke in a voice new to Kazan. +The dog snapped again, and growled.</p> + +<p>The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened +hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it. +Again and again the man reached out his hand, and three times Kazan felt +the touch of it, and there was neither threat nor hurt in it. At last +Pierre turned away and went back over the trail.</p> + +<p>When he was out of sight and hearing, Kazan whined, and the crest along +his spine flattened. He looked wistfully toward the glow of the fire. +The man had not hurt him, and the three-quarters of him that was dog +wanted to follow.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf came back, and stood with stiffly planted forefeet at his +side. She had never been this near to man before, except when the pack +had overtaken the sledge out on the plain. She could not understand. +Every instinct that was in her warned her that he was the most dangerous +of all things, more to be feared than the strongest beasts, the storms, +the floods, cold and starvation. And yet this man had not harmed her +mate. She sniffed at Kazan's back and head, where the mittened hand had +touched. Then she trotted back into the darkness again, for beyond the +edge of the forest she once more saw moving life.</p> + +<p>The man was returning, and with him was the girl. Her voice was soft +and sweet, and there was about her the breath and sweetness of woman. +The man stood prepared, but not threatening.</p> + +<p>"Be careful, Joan," he warned.</p> + +<p>She dropped on her knees in the snow, just out of reach.</p> + +<p>"Come, boy—come!" she said gently. She held out her hand. Kazan's +muscles twitched. He moved an inch—two inches toward her. There was the +old light in her eyes and face now, the love and gentleness he had known +once before, when another woman with shining hair and eyes had come into +his life. "Come!" she whispered as she saw him move, and she bent a +little, reached a little farther with her hand, and at last touched his +head.</p> + +<p>Pierre knelt beside her. He was proffering something, and Kazan smelled +meat. But it was the girl's hand that made him tremble and shiver, and +when she drew back, urging him to follow her, he dragged himself +painfully a foot or two through the snow. Not until then did the girl +see his mangled leg. In an instant she had forgotten all caution, and +was down close at his side.</p> + +<p>"He can't walk," she cried, a sudden tremble in her voice. "Look, <i>mon +père!</i> Here is a terrible cut. We must carry him."</p> + +<p>"I guessed that much," replied Radisson. "For that reason I brought the +blanket. <i>Mon Dieu</i>, listen to that!"</p> + +<p>From the darkness of the forest there came a low wailing cry.</p> + +<p>Kazan lifted his head and a trembling whine answered in his throat. It +was Gray Wolf calling to him.</p> + +<p>It was a miracle that Pierre Radisson should put the blanket about +Kazan, and carry him in to the camp, without scratch or bite. It was +this miracle that he achieved, with Joan's arm resting on Kazan's shaggy +neck as she held one end of the blanket. They laid him down close to the +fire, and after a little it was the man again who brought warm water and +washed away the blood from the torn leg, and then put something on it +that was soft and warm and soothing, and finally bound a cloth about it.</p> + +<p>All this Was strange and new to Kazan. Pierre's hand, as well as the +girl's, stroked his head. It was the man who brought him a gruel of meal +and tallow, and urged him to eat, while Joan sat with her chin in her +two hands, looking at the dog, and talking to him. After this, when he +was quite comfortable, and no longer afraid, he heard a strange small +cry from the furry bundle on the sledge that brought his head up with a +jerk.</p> + +<p>Joan saw the movement, and heard the low answering whimper in his +throat. She turned quickly to the bundle, talking and cooing to it as +she took it in her arms, and then she pulled back the bearskin so that +Kazan could see. He had never seen a baby before, and Joan held it out +before him, so that he could look straight at it and see what a +wonderful creature it was. Its little pink face stared steadily at +Kazan. Its tiny fists reached out, and it made queer little sounds at +him, and then suddenly it kicked and screamed with delight and laughed. +At those sounds Kazan's whole body relaxed, and he dragged himself to +the girl's feet.</p> + +<p>"See, he likes the baby!" she cried. "<i>Mon père</i>, we must give him a +name. What shall it be?"</p> + +<p>"Wait till morning for that," replied the father. "It is late, Joan. Go +into the tent, and sleep. We have no dogs now, and will travel slowly. +So we must start early."</p> + +<p>With her hand on the tent-flap, Joan, turned.</p> + +<p>"He came with the wolves," she said. "Let us call him Wolf." With one +arm she was holding the little Joan. The other she stretched out to +Kazan. "Wolf! Wolf!" she called softly.</p> + +<p>Kazan's eyes were on her. He knew that she was speaking to him, and he +drew himself a foot toward her.</p> + +<p>"He knows it already!" she cried. "Good night, <i>mon père</i>."</p> + +<p>For a long time after she had gone into the tent, old Pierre Radisson +sat on the edge of the sledge, facing the fire, with Kazan at his feet. +Suddenly the silence was broken again by Gray Wolf's lonely howl deep in +the forest. Kazan lifted his head and whined.</p> + +<p>"She's calling for you, boy," said Pierre understandingly.</p> + +<p>He coughed, and clutched a hand to his breast, where the pain seemed +rending him.</p> + +<p>"Frost-bitten lung," he said, speaking straight at Kazan. "Got it early +in the winter, up at Fond du Lac. Hope we'll get home—in time—with the +kids."</p> + +<p>In the loneliness and emptiness of the big northern wilderness one falls +into the habit of talking to one's self. But Kazan's head was alert, and +his eyes watchful, so Pierre spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"We've got to get them home, and there's only you and me to do it," he +said, twisting his beard. Suddenly he clenched his fists.</p> + +<p>His hollow racking cough convulsed him again.</p> + +<p>"Home!" he panted, clutching his chest. "It's eighty miles straight +north—to the Churchill—and I pray to God we'll get there—with the +kids—before my lungs give out."</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet, and staggered a little as he walked. There was a +collar about Kazan's neck, and he chained him to the sledge. After that +he dragged three or four small logs upon the fire, and went quietly into +the tent where Joan and the baby were already asleep. Several times +that night Kazan heard the distant voice of Gray Wolf calling for him, +but something told him that he must not answer it now. Toward dawn Gray +Wolf came close in to the camp, and for the first time Kazan replied to +her.</p> + +<p>His howl awakened the man. He came out of the tent, peered for a few +moments up at the sky, built up the fire, and began to prepare +breakfast. He patted Kazan on the head, and gave him a chunk of meat. +Joan came out a few moments later, leaving the baby asleep in the tent. +She ran up and kissed Pierre, and then dropped down on her knees beside +Kazan, and talked to him almost as he had heard her talk to the baby. +When she jumped up to help her father, Kazan followed her, and when Joan +saw him standing firmly upon his legs she gave a cry of pleasure.</p> + +<p>It was a strange journey that began into the North that day. Pierre +Radisson emptied the sledge of everything but the tent, blankets, food +and the furry nest for baby Joan. Then he harnessed himself in the +traces and dragged the sledge over the snow. He coughed incessantly.</p> + +<p>"It's a cough I've had half the winter," lied Pierre, careful that Joan +saw no sign of blood on his lips or beard. "I'll keep in the cabin for a +week when we get home."</p> + +<p>Even Kazan, with that strange beast knowledge which man, unable to +explain, calls instinct, knew that what he said was not the truth. +Perhaps it was largely because he had heard other men cough like this, +and that for generations his sledge-dog ancestors had heard men cough as +Radisson coughed—and had learned what followed it.</p> + +<p>More than once he had scented death in tepees and cabins, which he had +not entered, and more than once he had sniffed at the mystery of death +that was not quite present, but near—just as he had caught at a +distance the subtle warning of storm and of fire. And that strange thing +seemed to be very near to him now, as he followed at the end of his +chain behind the sledge. It made him restless, and half a dozen times, +when the sledge stopped, he sniffed at the bit of humanity buried in the +bearskin. Each time that he did this Joan was quickly at his side, and +twice she patted his scarred and grizzled head until every drop of +blood in his body leaped riotously with a joy which his body did not +reveal.</p> + +<p>This day the chief thing that he came to understand was that the little +creature on the sledge was very precious to the girl who stroked his +head and talked to him, and that it was very helpless. He learned, too, +that Joan was most delighted, and that her voice was softer and thrilled +him more deeply, when he paid attention to that little, warm, living +thing in the bearskin.</p> + +<p>For a long time after they made camp Pierre Radisson sat beside the +fire. To-night he did not smoke. He stared straight into the flames. +When at last he rose to go into the tent with the girl and the baby, he +bent over Kazan and examined his hurt.</p> + +<p>"You've got to work in the traces to-morrow, boy," he said. "We must +make the river by to-morrow night. If we don't—"</p> + +<p>He did not finish. He was choking back one of those tearing coughs when +the tent-flap dropped behind him. Kazan lay stiff and alert, his eyes +filled with a strange anxiety. He did not like to see Radisson enter the +tent, for stronger than ever there hung that oppressive mystery in the +air about him, and it seemed to be a part of Pierre.</p> + +<p>Three times that night he heard faithful Gray Wolf calling for him deep +in the forest, and each time he answered her. Toward dawn she came in +close to camp. Once he caught the scent of her when she circled around +in the wind, and he tugged and whined at the end of his chain, hoping +that she would come in and lie down at his side. But no sooner had +Radisson moved in the tent than Gray Wolf was gone. The man's face was +thinner, and his eyes were redder this morning. His cough was not so +loud or so rending. It was like a wheeze, as if something had given way +inside, and before the girl came out he clutched his hands often at his +throat. Joan's face whitened when she saw him. Anxiety gave way to fear +in her eyes. Pierre Radisson laughed when she flung her arms about him, +and coughed to prove that what he said was true.</p> + +<p>"You see the cough is not so bad, my Joan," he said. "It is breaking up. +You can not have forgotten, <i>ma cheri</i>? It always leaves one red-eyed +and weak."</p> + +<p>It was a cold bleak dark day that followed, and through it Kazan and +the man tugged at the fore of the sledge, with Joan following in the +trail behind. Kazan's wound no longer hurt him. He pulled steadily with +all his splendid strength, and the man never lashed him once, but patted +him with his mittened hand on head and back. The day grew steadily +darker and in the tops of the trees there was the low moaning of a +storm.</p> + +<p>Darkness and the coming of the storm did not drive Pierre Radisson into +camp. "We must reach the river," he said to himself over and over again. +"We must reach the river—we must reach the river—" And he steadily +urged Kazan on to greater effort, while his own strength at the end of +the traces grew less.</p> + +<p>It had begun to storm when Pierre stopped to build a fire at noon. The +snow fell straight down in a white deluge so thick that it hid the tree +trunks fifty yards away. Pierre laughed when Joan shivered and snuggled +close up to him with the baby in her arms. He waited only an hour, and +then fastened Kazan in the traces again, and buckled the straps once +more about his own waist. In the silent gloom that was almost night +Pierre carried his compass in his hand, and at last, late in the +afternoon, they came to a break in the timber-line, and ahead of them +lay a plain, across which Radisson pointed an exultant hand.</p> + +<p>"There's the river, Joan," he said, his voice faint and husky. "We can +camp here now and wait for the storm to pass."</p> + +<p>Under a thick clump of spruce he put up the tent, and then began +gathering fire-wood. Joan helped him. As soon as they had boiled coffee +and eaten a supper of meat and toasted biscuits, Joan went into the tent +and dropped exhausted on her thick bed of balsam boughs, wrapping +herself and the baby up close in the skins and blankets. To-night she +had no word for Kazan. And Pierre was glad that she was too tired to sit +beside the fire and talk. And yet—</p> + +<p>Kazan's alert eyes saw Pierre start suddenly. He rose from his seat on +the sledge and went to the tent. He drew back the flap and thrust in his +head and shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Asleep, Joan?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Almost, father. Won't you please come—soon?"</p> + +<p>"After I smoke," he said. "Are you comfortable?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm so tired—and—sleepy—"</p> + +<p>Pierre laughed softly. In the darkness he was gripping at his throat.</p> + +<p>"We're almost home, Joan. That is our river out there—the Little +Beaver. If I should run away and leave you to-night you could follow it +right to our cabin. It's only forty miles. Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—I know—"</p> + +<p>"Forty miles—straight down the river. You couldn't lose yourself, Joan. +Only you'd have to be careful of air-holes in the ice."</p> + +<p>"Won't you come to bed, father? You're tired—and almost sick."</p> + +<p>"Yes—after I smoke," he repeated. "Joan, will you keep reminding me +to-morrow of the air-holes? I might forget. You can always tell them, +for the snow and the crust over them are whiter than that on the rest of +the ice, and like a sponge. Will you remember—the airholes—"</p> + +<p>"Yes-s-s-s—"</p> + +<p>Pierre dropped the tent-flap and returned to the fire. He staggered as +he walked.</p> + +<p>"Good night, boy," he said. "Guess I'd better go in with the kids. Two +days more—forty miles—two days—"</p> + +<p>Kazan watched him as he entered the tent. He laid his weight against the +end of his chain until the collar shut off his wind. His legs and back +twitched. In that tent where Radisson had gone were Joan and the baby. +He knew that Pierre would not hurt them, but he knew also that with +Pierre Radisson something terrible and impending was hovering very near +to them. He wanted the man outside—by the fire—where he could lie +still, and watch him.</p> + +<p>In the tent there was silence. Nearer to him than before came Gray +Wolf's cry. Each night she was calling earlier, and coming closer to the +camp. He wanted her very near to him to-night, but he did not even whine +in response. He dared not break that strange silence in the tent. He lay +still for a long time, tired and lame from the day's journey, but +sleepless. The fire burned lower; the wind in the tree-tops died away; +and the thick gray clouds rolled like a massive curtain from under the +skies. The stars began to glow white and metallic, and from far in the +North there came faintly a crisping moaning sound, like steel +sleigh-runners running over frosty snow—the mysterious monotone of the +Northern Lights. After that it grew steadily and swiftly colder.</p> + +<p>To-night Gray Wolf did not compass herself by the direction of the wind. +She followed like a sneaking shadow over the trail Pierre Radisson had +made, and when Kazan heard her again, long after midnight, he lay with, +his head erect, and his body rigid, save for a curious twitching of his +muscles. There was a new note in Gray Wolf's voice, a wailing note in +which there was more than the mate-call. It was The Message. And at the +sound of it Kazan rose from out of his silence and his fear, and with +his head turned straight up to the sky he howled as the wild dogs of the +North howl before the tepees of masters who are newly dead.</p> + +<p>Pierre Radisson was dead.</p> + + + + +<a name="7"></a> +<h2>Chapter VII</h2> + +<h3>Out Of The Blizzard</h3> + +<p>It was dawn when the baby snuggled close to Joan's warm breast and +awakened her with its cry of hunger. She opened her eyes, brushed back +the thick hair from her face, and could see where the shadowy form of +her father was lying at the other side of the tent. He was very quiet, +and she was pleased that he was still sleeping. She knew that the day +before he had been very near to exhaustion, and so for half an hour +longer she lay quiet, cooing softly to the baby Joan. Then she arose +cautiously, tucked the baby in the warm blankets and furs, put on her +heavier garments, and went outside.</p> + +<p>By this time it was broad day, and she breathed a sigh of relief when +she saw that the storm had passed. It was bitterly cold. It seemed to +her that she had never known it to be so cold in all her life. The fire +was completely out. Kazan was huddled in a round ball, his nose tucked +under his body. He raised his head, shivering, as Joan came out. With +her heavily moccasined foot Joan scattered the ashes and charred sticks +where the fire had been. There was not a spark left. In returning to the +tent she stopped for a moment beside Kazan, and patted his shaggy head.</p> + +<p>"Poor Wolf!" she said. "I wish I had given you one of the bearskins!"</p> + +<p>She threw back the tent-flap and entered. For the first time she saw her +father's face in the light—and outside, Kazan heard the terrible +moaning cry that broke from her lips. No one could have looked at Pierre +Radisson's face once—and not have understood.</p> + +<p>After that one agonizing cry, Joan flung herself upon her father's +breast, sobbing so softly that even Kazan's sharp ears heard no sound. +She remained there in her grief until every vital energy of womanhood +and motherhood in her girlish body was roused to action by the wailing +cry of baby Joan. Then she sprang to her feet and ran out through the +tent opening. Kazan tugged at the end of his chain to meet her, but she +saw nothing of him now. The terror of the wilderness is greater than +that of death, and in an instant it had fallen upon Joan. It was not +because of fear for herself. It was the baby. The wailing cries from the +tent pierced her like knife-thrusts.</p> + +<p>And then, all at once, there came to her what old Pierre had said the +night before—his words about the river, the air-holes, the home forty +miles away. "<i>You couldn't lose yourself, Joan</i>" He had guessed what +might happen.</p> + +<p>She bundled the baby deep in the furs and returned to the fire-bed. Her +one thought now was that they must have fire. She made a little pile of +birch-bark, covered it with half-burned bits of wood, and went into the +tent for the matches. Pierre Radisson carried them in a water-proof box +in a pocket of his bearskin coat. She sobbed as she kneeled beside him +again, and obtained the box. As the fire flared up she added other bits +of wood, and then some of the larger pieces that Pierre had dragged into +camp. The fire gave her courage. Forty miles—and the river led to their +home! She must make that, with the baby and Wolf. For the first time +she turned to him, and spoke his name as she put her hand on his head. +After that she gave him a chunk of meat which she thawed out over the +fire, and melted the snow for tea. She was not hungry, but she recalled +how her father had made her eat four or five times a day, so she forced +herself to make a breakfast of a biscuit, a shred of meat and as much +hot tea as she could drink.</p> + +<p>The terrible hour she dreaded followed that. She wrapped blankets +closely about her father's body, and tied them with babiche cord. After +that she piled all the furs and blankets that remained on the sledge +close to the fire, and snuggled baby Joan deep down in them. Pulling +down the tent was a task. The ropes were stiff and frozen, and when she +had finished, one of her hands was bleeding. She piled the tent on the +sledge, and then, half, covering her face, turned and looked back.</p> + +<p>Pierre Radisson lay on his balsam bed, with nothing over him now but the +gray sky and the spruce-tops. Kazan stood stiff-legged and sniffed the +air. His spine bristled when Joan went back slowly and kneeled beside +the blanket-wrapped object. When she returned to him her face was white +and tense, and now there was a strange and terrible look in her eyes as +she stared out across the barren. She put him in the traces, and +fastened about her slender waist the strap that Pierre had used. Thus +they struck out for the river, floundering knee-deep in the freshly +fallen and drifted snow. Half-way Joan stumbled in a drift and fell, her +loose hair flying in a shimmering veil over the snow. With a mighty pull +Kazan was at her side, and his cold muzzle touched her face as she drew +herself to her feet. For a moment Joan took his shaggy head between her +two hands.</p> + +<p>"Wolf!" she moaned. "Oh, Wolf!"</p> + +<p>She went on, her breath coming pantingly now, even from her brief +exertion. The snow was not so deep on the ice of the river. But a wind +was rising. It came from the north and east, straight in her face, and +Joan bowed her head as she pulled with Kazan. Half a mile down the river +she stopped, and no longer could she repress the hopelessness that rose +to her lips in a sobbing choking cry. Forty miles! She clutched her +hands at her breast, and stood breathing like one who had been beaten, +her back to the wind. The baby was quiet. Joan went back and peered down +under the furs, and what she saw there spurred her on again almost +fiercely. Twice she stumbled to her knees in the drifts during the next +quarter of a mile.</p> + +<p>After that there was a stretch of wind-swept ice, and Kazan pulled the +sledge alone. Joan walked at his side. There was a pain in her chest. A +thousand needles seemed pricking her face, and suddenly she remembered +the thermometer. She exposed it for a time on the top of the tent. When +she looked at it a few minutes later it was thirty degrees below zero. +Forty miles! And her father had told her that she could make it—and +could not lose herself! But she did not know that even her father would +have been afraid to face the north that day, with the temperature at +thirty below, and a moaning wind bringing the first warning of a +blizzard.</p> + +<p>The timber was far behind her now. Ahead there was nothing but the +pitiless barren, and the timber beyond that was hidden by the gray gloom +of the day. If there had been trees, Joan's heart would not have choked +so with terror. But there was nothing—nothing but that gray ghostly +gloom, with the rim of the sky touching the earth a mile away.</p> + +<p>The snow grew heavy under her feet again. Always she was watching for +those treacherous, frost-coated traps in the ice her father had spoken +of. But she found now that all the ice and snow looked alike to her, and +that there was a growing pain back of her eyes. It was the intense cold.</p> + +<p>The river widened into a small lake, and here the wind struck her in the +face with such force that her weight was taken from the strap, and Kazan +dragged the sledge alone. A few inches of snow impeded her as much as a +foot had done before. Little by little she dropped back. Kazan forged to +her side, every ounce of his magnificent strength in the traces. By the +time they were on the river channel again, Joan was at the back of the +sledge, following in the trail made by Kazan. She was powerless to help +him. She felt more and more the leaden weight of her legs. There was but +one hope—and that was the forest. If they did not reach it soon, within +half an hour, she would be able to go no farther. Over and over again +she moaned a prayer for her baby as she struggled on. She fell in the +snow-drifts. Kazan and the sledge became only a dark blotch to her. And +then, all at once, she saw that they were leaving her. They were not +more than twenty feet ahead of her—but the blotch seemed to be a vast +distance away. Every bit of life and strength in her body was now bent +upon reaching the sledge—and baby Joan.</p> + +<p>It seemed an interminable time before she gained. With the sledge only +six feet ahead of her she struggled for what seemed to her to be an hour +before she could reach out and touch it. With a moan she flung herself +forward, and fell upon it. She no longer heard the wailing of the storm. +She no longer felt discomfort. With her face in the furs under which +baby Joan was buried, there came to her with swiftness and joy a vision +of warmth and home. And then the vision faded away, and was followed by +deep night.</p> + +<p>Kazan stopped in the trail. He came back then and sat down upon his +haunches beside her, waiting for her to move and speak. But she was +very still. He thrust his nose into her loose hair. A whine rose in his +throat, and suddenly he raised his head and sniffed in the face of the +wind. Something came to him with that wind. He muzzled Joan again, hut +she did not stir. Then he went forward, and stood in his traces, ready +for the pull, and looked hack at her. Still she did not move or speak, +and Kazan's whine gave place to a sharp excited bark.</p> + +<p>The strange thing in the wind came to him stronger for a moment. He +began to pull. The sledge-runners had frozen to the snow, and it took +every ounce of his strength to free them. Twice during the next five +minutes he stopped and sniffed the air. The third time that he halted, +in a drift of snow, he returned to Joan's side again, and whined to +awaken her. Then he tugged again at the end of his traces, and foot by +foot he dragged the sledge through the drift. Beyond the drift there was +a stretch of clear ice, and here Kazan rested. During a lull in the wind +the scent came to him stronger than before.</p> + +<p>At the end of the clear ice was a narrow break in the shore, where a +creek ran into the main stream. If Joan had been conscious she would +have urged him straight ahead. But Kazan turned into the break, and for +ten minutes he struggled through the snow without a rest, whining more +and more frequently, until at last the whine broke into a joyous bark. +Ahead of him, close to the creek, was a small cabin. Smoke was rising +out of the chimney. It was the scent of smoke that had come to him in +the wind. A hard level slope reached to the cabin door, and with the +last strength that was in him Kazan dragged his burden up that. Then he +settled himself back beside Joan, lifted his shaggy head to the dark sky +and howled.</p> + +<p>A moment later the door opened. A man came out. Kazan's reddened, +snow-shot eyes followed him watchfully as he ran to the sledge. He heard +his startled exclamation as he bent over Joan. In another lull of the +wind there came from out of the mass of furs on the sledge the wailing, +half-smothered voice of baby Joan.</p> + +<p>A deep sigh of relief heaved up from Kazan's chest. He was exhausted. +His strength was gone. His feet were torn and bleeding. But the voice +of baby Joan filled him with a strange happiness, and he lay down in his +traces, while the man carried Joan and the baby into the life and warmth +of the cabin.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later the man reappeared. He was not old, like Pierre +Radisson. He came close to Kazan, and looked down at him.</p> + +<p>"My God," he said. "And you did that—<i>alone!</i>"</p> + +<p>He bent down fearlessly, unfastened him from the traces, and led him +toward the cabin door. Kazan hesitated but once—almost on the +threshold. He turned his head, swift and alert. From out of the moaning +and wailing of the storm it seemed to him that for a moment he had heard +the voice of Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Then the cabin door closed behind him.</p> + +<p>Back in a shadowy corner of the cabin he lay, while the man prepared +something over a hot stove for Joan. It was a long time before Joan rose +from the cot on which the man had placed her. After that Kazan heard her +sobbing; and then the man made her eat, and for a time they talked. Then +the stranger hung up a big blanket in front of the bunk, and sat down +close to the stove. Quietly Kazan slipped along the wall, and crept +under the bunk. For a long time he could hear the sobbing breath of the +girl. Then all was still.</p> + +<p>The next morning he slipped out through the door when the man opened it, +and sped swiftly into the forest. Half a mile away he found the trail of +Gray Wolf, and called to her. From the frozen river came her reply, and +he went to her.</p> + +<p>Vainly Gray Wolf tried to lure him back into their old haunts—away from +the cabin and the scent of man. Late that morning the man harnessed his +dogs, and from the fringe of the forest Kazan saw him tuck Joan and the +baby among the furs on the sledge, as old Pierre had done. All that day +he followed in the trail of the team, with Gray Wolf slinking behind +him. They traveled until dark; and then, under the stars and the moon +that had followed the storm, the man still urged on his team. It was +deep in the night when they came to another cabin, and the man beat upon +the door. A light, the opening of the door, the joyous welcome of a +man's voice, Joan's sobbing cry—Kazan heard these from the shadows in +which he was hidden, and then slipped back to Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>In the days and weeks that followed Joan's home-coming the lure of the +cabin and of the woman's hand held Kazan. As he had tolerated Pierre, so +now he tolerated the younger man who lived with Joan and the baby. He +knew that the man was very dear to Joan, and that the baby was very dear +to him, as it was to the girl. It was not until the third day that Joan +succeeded in coaxing him into the cabin—and that was the day on which +the man returned with the dead and frozen body of Pierre. It was Joan's +husband who first found the name on the collar he wore, and they began +calling him Kazan.</p> + +<p>Half a mile away, at the summit of a huge mass of rock which the Indians +called the Sun Rock, he and Gray Wolf had found a home; and from here +they went down to their hunts on the plain, and often the girl's voice +reached up to them, calling, "<i>Kazan! Kazan! Kazan</i>!"</p> + +<p>Through all the long winter Kazan hovered thus between the lure of Joan +and the cabin—and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Then came Spring—and the Great Change.</p> + + + + +<a name="8"></a> +<h2>Chapter VIII</h2> + +<h3>The Great Change</h3> + +<p>The rocks, the ridges and the valleys were taking on a warmer glow. The +poplar buds were ready to burst. The scent of balsam and of spruce grew +heavier in the air each day, and all through the wilderness, in plain +and forest, there was the rippling murmur of the spring floods finding +their way to Hudson's Bay. In that great bay there was the rumble and +crash of the ice fields thundering down in the early break-up through +the Roes Welcome—the doorway to the Arctic, and for that reason there +still came with the April wind an occasional sharp breath of winter.</p> + +<p>Kazan had sheltered himself against that wind. Not a breath of air +stirred in the sunny spot the wolf-dog had chosen for himself. He was +more comfortable than he had been at any time during the six months of +terrible winter—and as he slept he dreamed.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf, his wild mate, lay near him, flat on her belly, her forepaws +reaching out, her eyes and nostrils as keen and alert as the smell of +man could make them. For there was that smell of man, as well as of +balsam and spruce, in the warm spring air. She gazed anxiously and +sometimes steadily, at Kazan as he slept. Her own gray spine stiffened +when she saw the tawny hair along Kazan's back bristle at some dream +vision. She whined softly as his upper lip snarled back, showing his +long white fangs. But for the most part Kazan lay quiet, save for the +muscular twitchings of legs, shoulders and muzzle, which always tell +when a dog is dreaming; and as he dreamed there came to the door of the +cabin out on the plain a blue-eyed girl-woman, with a big brown braid +over her shoulder, who called through the cup of her hands, "Kazan, +Kazan, Kazan!"</p> + +<p>The voice reached faintly to the top of the Sun Rock, and Gray Wolf +flattened her ears. Kazan stirred, and in another instant he was awake +and on his feet. He leaped to an outcropping ledge, sniffing the air and +looking far out over the plain that lay below them.</p> + +<p>Over the plain the woman's voice came to them again, and Kazan ran to +the edge of the rock and whined. Gray Wolf stepped softly to his side +and laid her muzzle on his shoulder. She had grown to know what the +Voice meant. Day and night she feared it, more than she feared the scent +or sound of man.</p> + +<p>Since she had given up the pack and her old life for Kazan, the Voice +had become Gray Wolf's greatest enemy, and she hated it. It took Kazan +from her. And wherever it went, Kazan followed.</p> + +<p>Night after night it robbed her of her mate, and left her to wander +alone under the stars and the moon, keeping faithfully to her +loneliness, and never once responding with her own tongue to the +hunt-calls of her wild brothers and sisters in the forests and out on +the plains. Usually she would snarl at the Voice, and sometimes nip +Kazan lightly to show her displeasure. But to-day, as the Voice came a +third time, she slunk back into the darkness of a fissure between two +rocks, and Kazan saw only the fiery glow of her eyes.</p> + +<p>Kazan ran nervously to the trail their feet had worn up to the top of +the Sun Rock, and stood undecided. All day, and yesterday, he had been +uneasy and disturbed. Whatever it was that stirred him seemed to be in +the air, for he could not see it or hear it or scent it. But he could +<i>feel</i> it. He went to the fissure and sniffed at Gray Wolf. Usually she +whined coaxingly. But her response to-day was to draw back her lips +until he could see her white fangs.</p> + +<p>A fourth tune the Voice came to them faintly, and she snapped fiercely +at some unseen thing in the darkness between the two rocks. Kazan went +again to the trail, still hesitating. Then he began to go down. It was a +narrow winding trail, worn only by the pads and claws of animals, for +the Sun Rock was a huge crag that rose almost sheer up for a hundred +feet above the tops of the spruce and balsam, its bald crest catching +the first gleams of the sun in the morning and the last glow of it in +the evening. Gray Wolf had first led Kazan to the security of the +retreat at the top of the rock.</p> + +<p>When he reached the bottom he no longer hesitated, but darted swiftly in +the direction of the cabin. Because of that instinct of the wild that +was still in him, he always approached the cabin with caution. He never +gave warning, and for a moment Joan was startled when she looked up from +her baby and saw Kazan's shaggy head and shoulders in the open door. The +baby struggled and kicked in her delight, and held out her two hands +with cooing cries to Kazan. Joan, too, held out a hand.</p> + +<p>"Kazan!" she cried softly. "Come in, Kazan!"</p> + +<p>Slowly the wild red light in Kazan's eyes softened. He put a forefoot on +the sill, and stood there, while the girl urged him again. Suddenly his +legs seemed to sink a little under him, his tail drooped and he slunk in +with that doggish air of having committed a crime. The creatures he +loved were in the cabin, but the cabin itself he hated. He hated all +cabins, for they all breathed of the club and the whip and bondage. Like +all sledge-dogs he preferred the open snow for a bed, and the +spruce-tops for shelter.</p> + +<p>Joan dropped her hand to his head, and at its touch there thrilled +through him that strange joy that was his reward for leaving Gray Wolf +and the wild. Slowly he raised his head until his black muzzle rested on +her lap, and he closed his eyes while that wonderful little creature +that mystified him so—the baby—prodded him with her tiny feet, and +pulled his tawny hair. He loved these baby-maulings even more than the +touch of Joan's hand.</p> + +<p>Motionless, sphinx-like, undemonstrative in every muscle of his body, +Kazan stood, scarcely breathing. More than once this lack of +demonstration had urged Joan's husband to warn her. But the wolf that +was in Kazan, his wild aloofness, even his mating with Gray Wolf had +made her love him more. She understood, and had faith in him.</p> + +<p>In the days of the last snow Kazan had proved himself. A neighboring +trapper had run over with his team, and the baby Joan had toddled up to +one of the big huskies. There was a fierce snap of jaws, a scream of +horror from Joan, a shout from the men as they leaped toward the pack. +But Kazan was ahead of them all. In a gray streak that traveled with the +speed of a bullet he was at the big husky's throat. When they pulled him +off, the husky was dead. Joan thought of that now, as the baby kicked +and tousled Kazan's head.</p> + +<p>"Good old Kazan," she cried softly, putting her face down close to him. +"We're glad you came, Kazan, for we're going to be alone to-night—baby +and I. Daddy's gone to the post, and you must care for us while he's +away."</p> + +<p>She tickled his nose with the end of her long shining braid. This always +delighted the baby, for in spite of his stoicism Kazan had to sniff and +sometimes to sneeze, and twig his ears. And it pleased him, too. He +loved the sweet scent of Joan's hair.</p> + +<p>"And you'd fight for us, if you had to, wouldn't you?" she went on. Then +she rose quietly. "I must close the door," she said. "I don't want you +to go away again to-day, Kazan. You must stay with us."</p> + +<p>Kazan went off to his corner, and lay down. Just as there had been some +strange thing at the top of the Sun Rock to disturb him that day, so now +there was a mystery that disturbed him in the cabin. He sniffed the air, +trying to fathom its secret. Whatever it was, it seemed to make his +mistress different, too. And she was digging out all sorts of odds and +ends of things about the cabin, and doing them up in packages. Late that +night, before she went to bed, Joan came and snuggled her hand close +down beside him for a few moments.</p> + +<p>"We're going away," she whispered, and there was a curious tremble that +was almost a sob in her voice. "We're going home, Kazan. We're going +away down where his people live—where they have churches, and cities, +and music, and all the beautiful things in the world. And we're going to +take <i>you</i>, Kazan!"</p> + +<p>Kazan didn't understand. But he was happy at having the woman so near to +him, and talking to him. At these times he forgot Gray Wolf. The dog +that was in him surged over his quarter-strain of wildness, and the +woman and the baby alone filled his world. But after Joan had gone to +her bed, and all was quiet in the cabin, his old uneasiness returned. He +rose to his feet and moved stealthily about the cabin, sniffing at the +walls, the door and the things his mistress had done into packages. A +low whine rose in his throat. Joan, half asleep, heard it, and murmured: +"Be quiet, Kazan. Go to sleep—go to sleep—"</p> + +<p>Long after that, Kazan stood rigid in the center of the room, listening, +trembling. And faintly he heard, far away, the wailing cry of, Gray +Wolf. But to-night it was not the cry of loneliness. It sent a thrill +through him. He ran to the door, and whined, but Joan was deep in +slumber and did not hear him. Once more he heard the cry, and only once. +Then the night grew still. He crouched down near the door.</p> + +<p>Joan found him there, still watchful, still listening, when she awoke in +the early morning. She came to open the door for him, and in a moment he +was gone. His feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth as he sped in the +direction of the Sun Rock. Across the plain he could see the cap of it +already painted with a golden glow.</p> + +<p>He came to the narrow winding trail, and wormed his way up it swiftly.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf was not at the top to greet him. But he could smell her, and +the scent of that other thing was strong in the air. His muscles +tightened; his legs grew tense. Deep down in his chest there began the +low rumble of a growl. He knew now what that strange thing was that had +haunted him, and made him uneasy. It was <i>life</i>. Something that lived +and breathed had invaded the home which he and Gray Wolf had chosen. He +bared his long fangs, and a snarl of defiance drew back his lips. +Stiff-legged, prepared to spring, his neck and head reaching out, he +approached the two rocks between which Gray Wolf had crept the night +before. She was still there. And with her was <i>something else</i>. After a +moment the tenseness left Kazan's body. His bristling crest drooped +until it lay flat. His ears shot forward, and he put his head and +shoulders between the two rocks, and whined softly. And Gray Wolf +whined. Slowly Kazan backed out, and faced the rising sun. Then he lay +down, so that his body shielded I the entrance to the chamber between +the rocks.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf was a mother.</p> + + + + +<a name="9"></a> +<h2>Chapter IX</h2> + +<h3>The Tragedy On Sun Rock</h3> + +<p>All that day Kazan guarded the top of the Sun Rock. Fate, and the fear +and brutality of masters, had heretofore kept him from fatherhood, and +he was puzzled. Something told him now that he belonged to the Sun Rock, +and not to the cabin. The call that came to him from over the plain was +not so strong. At dusk Gray Wolf came out from her retreat, and slunk to +his side, whimpering, and nipped gently at his shaggy neck. It was the +old instinct of his fathers that made him respond by caressing Gray +Wolf's face with his tongue. Then Gray Wolf's jaws opened, and she +laughed in short panting breaths, as if she had been hard run. She was +happy, and as they heard a little snuffling sound from between the +rocks, Kazan wagged his tail, and Gray Wolf darted back to her young.</p> + +<p>The babyish cry and its effect upon Gray Wolf taught Kazan his first +lesson in fatherhood. Instinct again told him that Gray Wolf could not +go down to the hunt with him now—that she must stay at the top of the +Sun Rock. So when the moon rose he went down alone, and toward dawn +returned with a big white rabbit between his jaws. It was the wild in +him that made him do this, and Gray Wolf ate ravenously. Then he knew +that each night hereafter he must hunt for Gray Wolf—and the little +whimpering creatures hidden between the two rocks.</p> + +<p>The next day, and still the next, he did not go to the cabin, though he +heard the voices of both the man and the woman calling him. On the fifth +he went down, and Joan and the baby were so glad that the woman hugged +him, and the baby kicked and laughed and screamed at him, while the man +stood by cautiously, watching their demonstrations with a gleam of +disapprobation in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid of him," he told Joan for the hundredth time. "That's the +wolf-gleam in his eyes. He's of a treacherous breed. Sometimes I wish +we'd never brought him home."</p> + +<p>"If we hadn't—where would the baby—have gone?" Joan reminded him, a +little catch in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I had almost forgotten that," said her husband. "Kazan, you old devil, +I guess I love you, too." He laid his hand caressingly on Kazan's head. +"Wonder how he'll take to life down there?" he asked. "He has always +been used to the forests. It'll seem mighty strange."</p> + +<p>"And so—have I—always been used to the forests," whispered Joan. "I +guess that's why I love Kazan—next to you and the baby. Kazan—dear old +Kazan!"</p> + +<p>This time Kazan felt and scented more of that mysterious change in the +cabin. Joan and her husband talked incessantly of their plans when they +were together; and when the man was away Joan talked to the baby, and to +him. And each time that he came down to the cabin during the week that +followed, he grew more and more restless, until at last the man noticed +the change in him.</p> + +<p>"I believe he knows," he said to Joan one evening. "I believe he knows +we're preparing to leave." Then he added: "The river was rising again +to-day. It will be another week before we can start, perhaps longer."</p> + +<p>That same night the moon flooded the top of the Sun Rock with a golden +light, and out into the glow of it came Gray Wolf, with her three little +whelps toddling behind her. There was much about these soft little balls +that tumbled about him and snuggled in his tawny coat that reminded +Kazan of the baby. At times they made the same queer, soft little +sounds, and they staggered about on their four little legs just as +helplessly as baby Joan made her way about on two. He did not fondle +them, as Gray Wolf did, but the touch of them, and their babyish +whimperings, filled him with a kind of pleasure that he had never +experienced before.</p> + +<p>The moon was straight above them, and the night was almost as bright as +day, when he went down again to hunt for Gray Wolf. At the foot of the +rock a big white rabbit popped up ahead of him, and he gave chase. For +half a mile he pursued, until the wolf instinct in him rose over the +dog, and he gave up the futile race. A deer he might have overtaken, but +small game the wolf must hunt as the fox hunts it, and he began to slip +through the thickets slowly and as quietly as a shadow. He was a mile +from the Sun Rock when two quick leaps put Gray Wolf's supper between +his jaws. He trotted back slowly, dropping the big seven-pound snow-shoe +hare now and then to rest.</p> + +<p>When he came to the narrow trail that led to the top of the Sun Rock he +stopped. In that trail was the warm scent of strange feet. The rabbit +fell from his jaws. Every hair in his body was suddenly electrified into +life. What he scented was not the scent of a rabbit, a marten or a +porcupine. Fang and claw had climbed the path ahead of him. And then, +coming faintly to him from the top of the rock, he heard sounds which +sent him up with a terrible whining cry. When he reached the summit he +saw in the white moonlight a scene that stopped him for a single moment. +Close to the edge of the sheer fall to the rocks, fifty feet below, Gray +Wolf was engaged in a death-struggle with a huge gray lynx. She was +down—and under, and from her there came a sudden sharp terrible cry of +pain.</p> + +<p>Kazan flew across the rock. His attack was the swift silent assault of +the wolf, combined with the greater courage, the fury and the strategy +of the husky. Another husky would have died in that first attack. But +the lynx was not a dog or a wolf. It was "Mow-lee, the swift," as the +Sarcees had named it—the quickest creature in the wilderness. Kazan's +inch-long fangs should have sunk deep in its jugular. But in a +fractional part of a second the lynx had thrown itself back like a huge +soft ball, and Kazan's teeth buried themselves in the flesh of its neck +instead of the jugular. And Kazan was not now fighting the fangs of a +wolf in the pack, or of another husky. He was fighting claws—claws that +ripped like twenty razor-edged knives, and which even a jugular hold +could not stop.</p> + +<p>Once he had fought a lynx in a trap, and he had not forgotten the lesson +the battle had taught him. He fought to pull the lynx <i>down</i>, instead of +forcing it on its back, as he would have done with another dog or a +wolf. He knew that when on its back the fierce cat was most dangerous. +One rip of its powerful hindfeet could disembowel him.</p> + +<p>Behind him he heard Gray Wolf sobbing and crying, and he knew that she +was terribly hurt. He was filled with the rage and strength of two dogs, +and his teeth met through the flesh and hide of the cat's throat. But +the big lynx escaped death by half an inch. It would take a fresh grip +to reach the jugular, and suddenly Kazan made the deadly lunge. There +was an instant's freedom for the lynx, and in that moment it flung +itself back, and Kazan gripped at its throat—<i>on top</i>.</p> + +<p>The cat's claws ripped through his flesh, cutting open his side—a +little too high to kill. Another stroke and they would have cut to his +vitals. But they had struggled close to the edge of the rock wall, and +suddenly, without a snarl or a cry, they rolled over. It was fifty or +sixty feet to the rocks of the ledge below, and even as they pitched +over and over in the fall, Kazan's teeth sank deeper. They struck with +terrific force, Kazan uppermost. The shock sent him half a dozen feet +from his enemy. He was up like a flash, dizzy, snarling, on the +defensive. The lynx lay limp and motionless where it had fallen. Kazan +came nearer, still prepared, and sniffed cautiously. Something told him +that the fight was over. He turned and dragged himself slowly along the +ledge to the trail, and returned to Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf was no longer in the moonlight. Close to the two rocks lay the +limp and lifeless little bodies of the three pups. The lynx had torn +them to pieces. With a whine of grief Kazan approached the two boulders +and thrust his head between them. Gray Wolf was there, crying to herself +in that terrible sobbing way. He went in, and began to lick her bleeding +shoulders and head. All the rest of that night she whimpered with pain. +With dawn she dragged herself out to the lifeless little bodies on the +rock.</p> + +<p>And then Kazan saw the terrible work of the lynx. For Gray Wolf was +blind—not for a day or a night, but blind for all time. A gloom that no +sun could break had become her shroud. And perhaps again it was that +instinct of animal creation, which often is more wonderful than man's +reason, that told Kazan what had happened. For he knew now that she was +helpless—more helpless than the little creatures that had gamboled in +the moonlight a few hours before. He remained close beside her all +that day.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="003.jpg" alt="[Illustration: Kazan gripped at its throat]" /></p> + +<p>Vainly that day did Joan call for Kazan. Her voice rose to the Sun Rock, +and Gray Wolf's head snuggled closer to Kazan, and Kazan's ears dropped +back, and he licked her wounds. Late in the afternoon Kazan left Gray +Wolf long enough to run to the bottom of the trail and bring up the +snow-shoe rabbit. Gray Wolf muzzled the fur and flesh, but would not +eat. Still a little later Kazan urged her to follow him to the trail. He +no longer wanted to stay at the top of the Sun Rock, and he no longer +wanted Gray Wolf to stay there. Step by step he drew her down the +winding path away from her dead puppies. She would move only when he was +very near her—so near that she could touch his scarred flank with her +nose.</p> + +<p>They came at last to the point in the trail where they had to leap down +a distance of three or four feet from the edge of a rock, and here Kazan +saw how utterly helpless Gray Wolf had become. She whined, and crouched +twenty times before she dared make the spring, and then she jumped +stiff-legged, and fell in a heap at Kazan's feet. After this Kazan did +not have to urge her so hard, for the fall impinged on her the fact that +she was safe only when her muzzle touched her mate's flank. She followed +him obediently when they reached the plain, trotting with her +foreshoulder to his hip.</p> + +<p>Kazan was heading for a thicket in the creek bottom half a mile away, +and a dozen times in that short distance Gray Wolf stumbled and fell. +And each time that she fell Kazan learned a little more of the +limitations of blindness. Once he sprang off in pursuit of a rabbit, but +he had not taken twenty leaps when he stopped and looked back. Gray Wolf +had not moved an inch. She stood motionless, sniffing the air—waiting +for him! For a full minute Kazan stood, also waiting. Then he returned +to her. Ever after this he returned to the point where he had left Gray +Wolf, knowing that he would find her there.</p> + +<p>All that day they remained in the thicket. In the afternoon he visited +the cabin. Joan and her husband were there, and both saw at once +Kazan's torn side and his lacerated head and shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Pretty near a finish fight for him," said the man, after he had +examined him. "It was either a lynx or a bear. Another wolf could not do +that."</p> + +<p>For half an hour Joan worked over him, talking to him all the time, and +fondling him with her soft hands. She bathed his wounds in warm water, +and then covered them with a healing salve, and Kazan was filled again +with that old restful desire to remain with her always, and never to go +back into the forests. For an hour she let him lie on the edge of her +dress, with his nose touching her foot, while she worked on baby things. +Then she rose to prepare supper, and Kazan got up—a little wearily—and +went to the door. Gray Wolf and the gloom of the night were calling him, +and he answered that call with a slouch of his shoulders and a drooping +head. Its old thrill was gone. He watched his chance, and went out +through the door. The moon had risen when he rejoined Gray Wolf. She +greeted his return with a low whine of joy, and muzzled him with her +blind face. In her helplessness she looked happier than Kazan in all his +strength.</p> + +<p>From now on, during the days that followed, it was a last great fight +between blind and faithful Gray Wolf and the woman. If Joan had known of +what lay in the thicket, if she could once have seen the poor creature +to whom Kazan was now all life—the sun, the stars, the moon, and +food—she would have helped Gray Wolf. But as it was she tried to lure +Kazan more and more to the cabin, and slowly she won.</p> + +<p>At last the great day came, eight days after the fight on the Sun Rock. +Kazan had taken Gray Wolf to a wooded point on the river two days +before, and there he had left her the preceding night when he went to +the cabin. This time a stout babiche thong was tied to the collar round +his neck, and he was fastened to a staple in the log wall. Joan and her +husband were up before it was light next day. The sun was just rising +when they all went out, the man carrying the baby, and Joan leading him. +Joan turned and locked the cabin door, and Kazan heard a sob in her +throat as they followed the man down to the river. The big canoe was +packed and waiting. Joan got in first, with the baby. Then, still +holding the babiche thong, she drew Kazan up close to her, so that he +lay with his weight against her.</p> + +<p>The sun fell warmly on Kazan's back as they shoved off, and he closed +his eyes, and rested his head on Joan's lap. Her hand fell softly on his +shoulder. He heard again that sound which the man could not hear, the +broken sob in her throat, as the canoe moved slowly down to the wooded +point.</p> + +<p>Joan waved her hand back at the cabin, just disappearing behind the +trees.</p> + +<p>"Good-by!" she cried sadly. "Good-by—" And then she buried her face +close down to Kazan and the baby, and sobbed.</p> + +<p>The man stopped paddling.</p> + +<p>"You're not sorry—Joan?" he asked.</p> + +<p>They were drifting past the point now, and the scent of Gray Wolf came +to Kazan's nostrils, rousing him, and bringing a low whine from his +throat.</p> + +<p>"You're not sorry—we're going?" Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied. "Only I've—always lived here—in the forests—and +they're—home!"</p> + +<p>The point with its white finger of sand, was behind them now. And Kazan +was standing rigid, facing it. The man called to him, and Joan lifted +her head. She, too, saw the point, and suddenly the babiche leash +slipped from her fingers, and a strange light leaped into her blue eyes +as she saw what stood at the end of that white tip of sand. It was Gray +Wolf. Her blind eyes were turned toward Kazan. At last Gray Wolf, the +faithful, understood. Scent told her what her eyes could not see. Kazan +and the man-smell were together. And they were going—going—going—</p> + +<p>"Look!" whispered Joan.</p> + +<p>The man turned. Gray Wolf's forefeet were in the water. And now, as the +canoe drifted farther and farther away, she settled back on her +haunches, raised her head to the sun which she could not see and gave +her last long wailing cry for Kazan.</p> + +<p>The canoe lurched. A tawny body shot through the air—and Kazan was +gone.</p> + +<p>The man reached forward for his rifle. Joan's hand stopped him. Her +face was white.</p> + +<p>"Let him go back to her! Let him go—let him go!" she cried. "It is his +place—with her."</p> + +<p>And Kazan reaching the shore, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and +looked for the last time toward the woman. The canoe was drifting slowly +around the first bend. A moment more and it had disappeared. Gray Wolf +had won.</p> + + + + +<a name="10"></a> +<h2>Chapter X</h2> + +<h3>The Days Of Fire</h3> + +<p>From the night of the terrible fight with the big gray lynx on the top +of the Sun Rock, Kazan remembered less and less vividly the old days +when he had been a sledge-dog, and the leader of a pack. He would never +quite forget them, and always there would stand out certain memories +from among the rest, like fires cutting the blackness of night. But as +man dates events from his birth, his marriage, his freedom from a +bondage, or some foundation-step in his career, so all things seemed to +Kazan to begin with two tragedies which had followed one fast upon the +other after the birth of Gray Wolf's pups.</p> + +<p>The first was the fight on the Sun Rock, when the big gray lynx had +blinded his beautiful wolf mate for all time, and had torn her pups into +pieces. He in turn had killed the lynx. But Gray Wolf was still blind. +Vengeance had not been able to give her sight. She could no longer hunt +with him, as they had hunted with the wild wolf-packs out on the plain, +and in the dark forests. So at thought of that night he always snarled, +and his lips curled back to reveal his inch-long fangs.</p> + +<p>The other tragedy was the going of Joan, her baby and her husband. +Something more infallible than reason told Kazan that they would not +come back. Brightest of all the pictures that remained with him was that +of the sunny morning when the woman and the baby he loved, and the man +he endured because of them, had gone away in the canoe, and often he +would go to the point, and gaze longingly down-stream, where he had +leaped from the canoe to return to his blind mate.</p> + +<p>So Kazan's life seemed now to be made up chiefly of three things: his +hatred of everything that bore the scent or mark of the lynx, his +grieving for Joan and the baby, and Gray Wolf. It was natural that the +strongest passion in him should be his hatred of the lynx, for not only +Gray Wolf's blindness and the death of the pups, but even the loss of +the woman and the baby he laid to that fatal struggle on the Sun Rock. +From that hour he became the deadliest enemy of the lynx tribe. Wherever +he struck the scent of the big gray cat he was turned into a snarling +demon, and his hatred grew day by day, as he became more completely a +part of the wild.</p> + +<p>He found that Gray Wolf was more necessary to him now than she had ever +been since the day she had left the wolf-pack for him. He was +three-quarters dog, and the dog-part of him demanded companionship. +There was only Gray Wolf to give him that now. They were alone. +Civilization was four hundred miles south of them. The nearest Hudson's +Bay post was sixty miles to the west. Often, in the days of the woman +and the baby, Gray Wolf had spent her nights alone out in the forest, +waiting and calling for Kazan. Now it was Kazan who was lonely and +uneasy when he was away from her side.</p> + +<p>In her blindness Gray Wolf could no longer hunt with her mate. But +gradually a new code of understanding grew up between them, and through +her blindness they learned many things that they had not known before. +By early summer Gray Wolf could travel with Kazan, if he did not move +too swiftly. She ran at his flank, with her shoulder or muzzle touching +him, and Kazan learned not to leap, but to trot. Very quickly he found +that he must choose the easiest trails for Gray Wolf's feet. When they +came to a space to be bridged by a leap, he would muzzle Gray Wolf and +whine, and she would stand with ears alert—listening. Then Kazan would +take the leap, and she understood the distance she had to cover. She +always over-leaped, which was a good fault.</p> + +<p>In another way, and one that was destined to serve them many times in +the future, she became of greater help than ever to Kazan. Scent and +hearing entirely took the place of sight. Each day developed these +senses more and more, and at the same time there developed between them +the dumb language whereby she could impress upon Kazan what she had +discovered by scent or sound. It became a curious habit of Kazan's +always to look at Gray Wolf when they stopped to listen, or to scent the +air.</p> + +<p>After the fight on the Sun Rock, Kazan had taken his blind mate to a +thick clump of spruce and balsam in the river-bottom, where they +remained until early summer. Every day for weeks Kazan went to the cabin +where Joan and the baby—and the man—had been. For a long time he went +hopefully, looking each day or night to see some sign of life there. But +the door was never open. The boards and saplings at the windows always +remained. Never a spiral of smoke rose from the clay chimney. Grass and +vines began to grow in the path. And fainter and fainter grew that scent +which Kazan could still find about it—the scent of man, of the woman, +the baby.</p> + +<p>One day he found a little baby moccasin under one of the closed windows. +It was old, and worn out, and blackened by snow and rain, but he lay +down beside it, and remained there for a long time, while the baby +Joan—a thousand miles away—was playing with the strange toys of +civilization. Then he returned to Gray Wolf among the spruce and balsam.</p> + +<p>The cabin was the one place to which Gray Wolf would not follow him. At +all other times she was at his side. Now that she had become accustomed +to blindness, she even accompanied him on his hunts, until he struck +game, and began the chase. Then she would wait for him. Kazan usually +hunted the big snow-shoe rabbits. But one night he ran down and killed a +young doe. The kill was too heavy to drag to Gray Wolf, so he returned +to where she was waiting for him and guided her to the feast. In many +ways they became more and more inseparable as the summer lengthened, +until at last, through all the wilderness, their footprints were always +two by two and never one by one.</p> + +<p>Then came the great fire.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf caught the scent of it when it was still two days to the west. +The sun that night went down in a lurid cloud. The moon, drifting into +the west, became blood red. When it dropped behind the wilderness in +this manner, the Indians called it the Bleeding Moon, and the air was +filled with omens.</p> + +<p>All the next day Gray Wolf was nervous, and toward noon Kazan caught in +the air the warning that she had sensed many hours ahead of him. +Steadily the scent grew stronger, and by the middle of the afternoon the +sun was veiled by a film of smoke.</p> + +<p>The flight of the wild things from the triangle of forest between the +junctions of the Pipestone and Cree Rivers would have begun then, but +the wind shifted. It was a fatal shift. The fire was raging from the +west and south. Then the wind swept straight eastward, carrying the +smoke with it, and during this breathing spell all the wild creatures in +the triangle between the two rivers waited. This gave the fire time to +sweep completely, across the base of the forest triangle, cutting off +the last trails of escape.</p> + +<p>Then the wind shifted again, and the fire swept north. The head of the +triangle became a death-trap. All through the night the southern sky was +filled with a lurid glow, and by morning the heat and smoke and ash were +suffocating.</p> + +<p>Panic-striken, Kazan searched vainly for a means of escape. Not for an +instant did he leave Gray Wolf. It would have been easy for him to swim +across either of the two streams, for he was three-quarters dog. But at +the first touch of water on her paws, Gray Wolf drew back, shrinking. +Like all her breed, she would face fire and death before water. Kazan +urged. A dozen times he leaped in, and swam out into the stream. But +Gray Wolf would come no farther than she could wade.</p> + +<p>They could hear the distant murmuring roar of the fire now. Ahead of it +came the wild things. Moose, caribou and deer plunged into the water of +the streams and swam to the safety of the opposite side. Out upon a +white finger of sand lumbered a big black bear with two cubs, and even +the cubs took to the water, and swam across easily. Kazan watched them, +and whined to Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>And then out upon that white finger of sand came other things that +dreaded the water as Gray Wolf dreaded it: a big fat porcupine, a sleek +little marten, a fisher-cat that sniffed the air and wailed like a +child. Those things that could not or would not swim outnumbered the +others three to one. Hundreds of little ermine scurried along the shore +like rats, their squeaking little voices sounding incessantly; foxes ran +swiftly along the banks, seeking a tree or a windfall that might bridge +the water for them; the lynx snarled and faced the fire; and Gray +Wolf's own tribe—the wolves—dared take no deeper step than she.</p> + +<p>Dripping and panting, and half choked by heat and smoke, Kazan came to +Gray Wolf's side. There was but one refuge left near them, and that was +the sand-bar. It reached out for fifty feet into the stream. Quickly he +led his blind mate toward it. As they came through the low bush to the +river-bed, something stopped them both. To their nostrils had come the +scent of a deadlier enemy than fire. A lynx had taken possession of the +sand-bar, and was crouching at the end of it. Three porcupines had +dragged themselves into the edge of the water, and lay there like balls, +their quills alert and quivering. A fisher-cat was snarling at the lynx. +And the lynx, with ears laid back, watched Kazan and Gray Wolf as they +began the invasion of the sand-bar.</p> + +<p>Faithful Gray Wolf was full of fight, and she sprang shoulder to +shoulder with Kazan, her fangs bared. With an angry snap, Kazan drove +her back, and she stood quivering and whining while he advanced. +Light-footed, his pointed ears forward, no menace or threat in his +attitude, he advanced. It was the deadly advance of the husky trained +in battle, skilled in the art of killing. A man from civilization would +have said that the dog was approaching the lynx with friendly +intentions. But the lynx understood. It was the old feud of many +generations—made deadlier now by Kazan's memory of that night at the +top of the Sun Rock.</p> + +<p>Instinct told the fisher-cat what was coming, and it crouched low and +flat; the porcupines, scolding like little children at the presence of +enemies and the thickening clouds of smoke, thrust their quills still +more erect. The lynx lay on its belly, like a cat, its hindquarters +twitching, and gathered for the spring. Kazan's feet seemed scarcely to +touch the sand as he circled lightly around it. The lynx pivoted as he +circled, and then it shot in a round snarling ball over the eight feet +of space that separated them.</p> + +<p>Kazan did not leap aside. He made no effort to escape the attack, but +met it fairly with the full force of his shoulders, as sledge-dog meets +sledge-dog. He was ten pounds heavier than the lynx, and for a moment +the big loose-jointed cat with its twenty knife-like claws was thrown +on its side. Like a flash Kazan took advantage of the moment, and drove +for the back of the cat's neck.</p> + +<p>In that same moment blind Gray Wolf leaped in with a snarling cry, and +fighting under Kazan's belly, she fastened her jaws in one of the cat's +hindlegs. The bone snapped. The lynx, twice outweighed, leaped backward, +dragging both Kazan and Gray Wolf. It fell back down on one of the +porcupines, and a hundred quills drove into its body. Another leap and +it was free—fleeing into the face of the smoke. Kazan did not pursue. +Gray Wolf came to his side and licked his neck, where fresh blood was +crimsoning his tawny hide. The fisher-cat lay as if dead, watching them +with fierce little black eyes. The porcupines continued to chatter, as +if begging for mercy. And then a thick black suffocating pall of smoke +drove low over the sand-bar and with it came air that was furnace-hot.</p> + +<p>At the uttermost end of the sand-bar Kazan and Gray Wolf rolled +themselves into balls and thrust their heads under their bodies. The +fire was very near now. The roar of it was like that of a great +cataract, with now and then a louder crash of falling trees. The air +was filled with ash and burning sparks, and twice Kazan drew forth his +head to snap at blazing embers that fell upon and seared him like hot +irons.</p> + +<p>Close along the edge of the stream grew thick green bush, and when the +fire reached this, it burned more slowly, and the heat grew less. Still, +it was a long time before Kazan and Gray Wolf could draw forth their +heads and breathe more freely. Then they found that the finger of sand +reaching out into the river had saved them. Everywhere in that triangle +between the two rivers the world had turned black, and was hot +underfoot.</p> + +<p>The smoke cleared away. The wind changed again, and swung down cool and +fresh from the west and north. The fisher-cat was the first to move +cautiously back to the forests that had been, but the porcupines were +still rolled into balls when Gray Wolf and Kazan left the sand-bar. They +began to travel up-stream, and before night came, their feet were sore +from hot ash and burning embers.</p> + +<p>The moon was strange and foreboding that night, like a spatter of blood +in the sky, and through the long silent hours there was not even the +hoot of an owl to give a sign that life still existed where yesterday +had been a paradise of wild things. Kazan knew that there was nothing to +hunt, and they continued to travel all that night. With dawn they struck +a narrow swamp along the edge of the stream. Here beavers had built a +dam, and they were able to cross over into the green country on the +opposite side. For another day and another night they traveled westward, +and this brought them into the thick country of swamp and timber along +the Waterfound.</p> + +<p>And as Kazan and Gray Wolf came from the west, there came from the +Hudson's Bay post to the east a slim dark-faced French half-breed by the +name of Henri Loti, the most famous lynx hunter in all the Hudson's Bay +country. He was prospecting for "signs," and he found them in abundance +along the Waterfound. It was a game paradise, and the snow-shoe rabbit +abounded in thousands. As a consequence, the lynxes were thick, and +Henri built his trapping shack, and then returned to the post to wait +until the first snows fell, when he would come back with his team, +supplies and traps.</p> + +<p>And up from the south, at this same time, there was slowly working his +way by canoe and trail a young university zoologist who was gathering +material for a book on <i>The Reasoning of the Wild</i>. His name was Paul +Weyman, and he had made arrangements to spend a part of the winter with +Henri Loti, the half-breed. He brought with him plenty of paper, a +camera and the photograph of a girl. His only weapon was a pocket-knife.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile Kazan and Gray Wolf found the home they were seeking in a +thick swamp five or six miles from the cabin that Henri Loti had built.</p> + + + + +<a name="11"></a> +<h2>Chapter XI</h2> + +<h3>Always Two By Two</h3> + +<p>It was January when a guide from the post brought Paul Weyman to Henri +Loti's cabin on the Waterfound. He was a man of thirty-two or three, +full of the red-blooded life that made Henri like him at once. If this +had not been the case, the first few days in the cabin might have been +unpleasant, for Henri was in bad humor. He told Weyman about it their +first night, as they were smoking pipes alongside the redly glowing box +stove.</p> + +<p>"It is damn strange," said Henri. "I have lost seven lynx in the traps, +torn to pieces like they were no more than rabbits that the foxes had +killed. No thing—not even bear—have ever tackled lynx in a trap +before. It is the first time I ever see it. And they are torn up so bad +they are not worth one half dollar at the post. Seven!—that is over two +hundred dollar I have lost! There are two wolves who do it. Two—I know +it by the tracks—always two—an'—never one. They follow my trap-line +an' eat the rabbits I catch. They leave the fisher-cat, an' the mink, +an' the ermine, an' the marten; but the lynx—<i>sacré</i> an' damn!—they +jump on him an' pull the fur from him like you pull the wild cotton +balls from the burn-bush! I have tried strychnine in deer fat, an' I +have set traps and deadfalls, but I can not catch them. They will drive +me out unless I get them, for I have taken only five good lynx, an' they +have destroyed seven."</p> + +<p>This roused Weyman. He was one of that growing number of thoughtful men +who believe that man's egoism, as a race, blinds him to many of the more +wonderful facts of creation. He had thrown down the gantlet, and with a +logic that had gained him a nation-wide hearing, to those who believed +that man was the only living creature who could reason, and that common +sense and cleverness when displayed by any other breathing thing were +merely instinct. The facts behind Henri's tale of woe struck him as +important, and until midnight they talked about the two strange wolves.</p> + +<p>"There is one big wolf an' one smaller," said Henri. "An' it is always +the big wolf who goes in an' fights the lynx. I see that by the snow. +While he's fighting, the smaller wolf makes many tracks in the snow just +out of reach, an' then when the lynx is down, or dead, it jumps in an' +helps tear it into pieces. All that I know by the snow. Only once have I +seen where the smaller one went in an' fought with the other, an' then +there was blood all about that was not lynx blood; I trailed the devils +a mile by the dripping."</p> + +<p>During the two weeks that followed, Weyman found much to add to the +material of his book. Not a day passed that somewhere along Henri's +trap-line they did not see the trails of the two wolves, and Weyman +observed that—as Henri had told him—the footprints were always two by +two, and never one by one. On the third day they came to a trap that had +held a lynx, and at sight of what remained Henri cursed in both French +and English until he was purple in the face. The lynx had been torn +until its pelt was practically worthless.</p> + +<p>Weyman saw where the smaller wolf had waited on its haunches, while its +companion had killed the lynx. He did not tell Henri all he thought. But +the days that followed convinced him more and more that he had found the +most dramatic exemplification of his theory. Back of this mysterious +tragedy of the trap-line there was a <i>reason</i>.</p> + +<p>Why did the two wolves not destroy the fisher-cat, the ermine and the +marten? Why was their feud with the lynx alone?</p> + +<p>Weyman was strangely thrilled. He was a lover of wild things, and for +that reason he never carried a gun. And when he saw Henri placing +poison-baits for the two marauders, he shuddered, and when, day after +day, he saw that these poison-baits were untouched, he rejoiced. +Something in his own nature went out in sympathy to the heroic outlaw of +the trap-line who never failed to give battle to the lynx. Nights in the +cabin he wrote down his thoughts and discoveries of the day. One night +he turned suddenly on Henri.</p> + +<p>"Henri, doesn't it ever make you sorry to kill so many wild things?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Henri stared and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I kill t'ousand an' t'ousand," he said. "I kill t'ousand more."</p> + +<p>"And there are twenty thousand others just like you in this northern +quarter of the continent—all killing, killing for hundreds of years +back, and yet you can't kill out wild life. The war of Man and the +Beast, you might call it. And, if you could return five hundred years +from now, Henri, you'd still find wild life here. Nearly all the rest of +the world is changing, but you can't change these almost impenetrable +thousands of square miles of ridges and swamps and forests. The +railroads won't come here, and I, for one, thank God for that. Take all +the great prairies to the west, for instance. Why, the old buffalo +trails are still there, plain as day—and yet, towns and cities are +growing up everywhere. Did you ever hear of North Battleford?"</p> + +<p>"Is she near Montreal or Quebec?" Henri asked.</p> + +<p>Weyman smiled, and drew a photograph from his pocket. It was the picture +of a girl.</p> + +<p>"No. It's far to the west, in Saskatchewan. Seven years ago I used to +go up there every year, to shoot prairie chickens, coyotes and elk. +There wasn't any North Battleford then—just the glorious prairie, +hundreds and hundreds of square miles of it. There was a single shack on +the Saskatchewan River, where North Battleford now stands, and I used to +stay there. In that shack there was a little girl, twelve years old. We +used to go out hunting together—for I used to kill things in those +days. And the little girl would cry sometimes when I killed, and I'd +laugh at her.</p> + +<p>"Then a railroad came, and then another, and they joined near the shack, +and all at once a town sprang up. Seven years ago there was only the +shack there, Henri. Two years ago there were eighteen hundred people. +This year, when I came through, there were five thousand, and two years +from now there'll be ten thousand.</p> + +<p>"On the ground where that shack stood are three banks, with a capital of +forty million dollars; you can see the glow of the electric lights of +the city twenty miles away. It has a hundred-thousand dollar college, a +high school, the provincial asylum, a fire department, two clubs, a +board of trade, and it's going to have a street-car line within two +years. Think of that—all where the coyotes howled a few years ago!</p> + +<p>"People are coming in so fast that they can't keep a census. Five years +from now there'll be a city of twenty thousand where the old shack +stood. And the little girl in that shack, Henri—she's a young lady now, +and her people are—well, rich. I don't care about that. The chief thing +is that she is going to marry me in the spring. Because of her I stopped +killing things when she was only sixteen. The last thing I killed was a +prairie wolf, and it had young. Eileen kept the little puppy. She's got +it now—tamed. That's why above all other wild things I love the wolves. +And I hope these two leave your trap-line safe."</p> + +<p>Henri was staring at him. Weyman gave him the picture. It was of a +sweet-faced girl, with deep pure eyes, and there came a twitch at the +corners of Henri's mouth as he looked at it.</p> + +<p>"My Iowaka died t'ree year ago," he said. "She too loved the wild +thing. But them wolf—damn! They drive me out if I can not kill them!" +He put fresh fuel into the stove, and prepared for bed.</p> + +<p>One day the big idea came to Henri.</p> + +<p>Weyman was with him when they struck fresh signs of lynx. There was a +great windfall ten or fifteen feet high, and in one place the logs had +formed a sort of cavern, with almost solid walls on three sides. The +snow was beaten down by tracks, and the fur of rabbit was scattered +about. Henri was jubilant.</p> + +<p>"We got heem—sure!" he said.</p> + +<p>He built the bait-house, set a trap and looked about him shrewdly. Then +he explained his scheme to Weyman. If the lynx was caught, and the two +wolves came to destroy it, the fight would take place in that shelter +under the windfall, and the marauders would have to pass through the +opening. So Henri set five smaller traps, concealing them skilfully +under leaves and moss and snow, and all were far enough away from the +bait-house so that the trapped lynx could not spring them in his +struggles.</p> + +<p>"When they fight, wolf jump this way an' that—an' sure get in," said +Henri. "He miss one, two, t'ree—but he sure get in trap somewhere."</p> + +<p>That same morning a light snow fell, making the work more complete, for +it covered up all footprints and buried the telltale scent of man. That +night Kazan and Gray Wolf passed within a hundred feet of the windfall, +and Gray Wolf's keen scent detected something strange and disquieting in +the air. She informed Kazan by pressing her shoulder against his, and +they swung off at right angles, keeping to windward of the trap-line.</p> + +<p>For two days and three cold starlit nights nothing happened at the +windfall. Henri understood, and explained to Weyman. The lynx was a +hunter, like himself, and also had its hunt-line, which it covered about +once a week. On the fifth night the lynx returned, went to the windfall, +was lured straight to the bait, and the sharp-toothed steel trap closed +relentlessly over its right hindfoot. Kazan and Gray Wolf were traveling +a quarter of a mile deeper in the forest when they heard the clanking of +the steel chain as the lynx fought; to free itself. Ten minutes later +they stood in the door of the windfall cavern.</p> + +<p>It was a white clear night, so filled with brilliant stars that Henri +himself could have hunted by the light of them. The lynx had exhausted +itself, and lay crouching on its belly as Kazan and Gray Wolf appeared. +As usual, Gray Wolf held back while Kazan began the battle. In the first +or second of these fights on the trap-line, Kazan would probably have +been disemboweled or had his jugular vein cut open, had the fierce cats +been free. They were more than his match in open fight, though the +biggest of them fell ten pounds under his weight. Chance had saved him +on the Sun Rock. Gray Wolf and the porcupine had both added to the +defeat of the lynx on the sand-bar. And along Henri's hunting line it +was the trap that was his ally. Even with his enemy thus shackled he +took big chances. And he took bigger chances than ever with the lynx +under the windfall.</p> + +<p>The cat was an old warrior, six or seven years old. His claws were an +inch and a quarter long, and curved like simitars. His forefeet and his +left hindfoot were free, and as Kazan advanced, he drew back, so that +the trap-chain was slack under his body. Here Kazan could not follow his +old tactics of circling about his trapped foe, until it had become +tangled in the chain, or had so shortened and twisted it that there was +no chance for a leap. He had to attack face to face, and suddenly he +lunged in. They met shoulder to shoulder. Kazan's fangs snapped at the +other's throat, and missed. Before he could strike again, the lynx flung +out its free hindfoot, and even Gray Wolf heard the ripping sound that +it made. With a snarl Kazan was flung back, his shoulder torn to the +bone.</p> + +<p>Then it was that one of Henri's hidden traps saved him from a second +attack—and death. Steel jaws snapped over one of his forefeet, and when +he leaped, the chain stopped him. Once or twice before, blind Gray Wolf +had leaped in, when she knew that Kazan was in great danger. For an +instant she forgot her caution now, and as she heard Kazan's snarl of +pain, she sprang in under the windfall. Five traps Henri had hidden in +the space in front of the bait-house, and Gray Wolf's feet found two of +these. She fell on her side, snapping and snarling. In his struggles +Kazan sprung the remaining two traps. One of them missed. The fifth, and +last, caught him by a hindfoot.</p> + +<p>This was a little past midnight. From then until morning the earth and +snow under the windfall were torn up by the struggles of the wolf, the +dog and the lynx to regain their freedom. And when morning came, all +three were exhausted, and lay on their sides, panting and with bleeding +jaws, waiting for the coming of man—and death.</p> + +<p>Henri and Weyman were out early. When they struck off the main line +toward the windfall, Henri pointed to the tracks of Kazan and Gray Wolf, +and his dark face lighted up with pleasure and excitement. When they +reached the shelter under the mass of fallen timber, both stood +speechless for a moment, astounded by what they saw. Even Henri had seen +nothing like this before—two wolves and a lynx, all in traps, and +almost within reach of one another's fangs. But surprise could not long +delay the business of Henri's hunter's instinct. The wolves lay first in +his path, and he was raising his rifle to put a steel-capped bullet +through the base of Kazan's brain, when Weyman caught him eagerly by the +arm. Weyman was staring. His fingers dug into Henri's flesh. His eyes +had caught a glimpse of the steel-studded collar about Kazan's neck.</p> + +<p>"Wait!" he cried. "It's not a wolf. It's a dog!"</p> + +<p>Henri lowered his rifle, staring at the collar. Weyman's eyes shot to +Gray Wolf. She was facing them, snarling, her white fangs bared to the +foes she could not see. Her blind eyes were closed. Where there should +have been eyes there was only hair, and an exclamation broke from +Weyman's lips.</p> + +<p>"Look!" he commanded of Henri. "What in the name of heaven—"</p> + +<p>"One is dog—wild dog that has run to the wolves," said Henri. "And the +other is—wolf."</p> + +<p>"And <i>blind</i>!" gasped Weyman.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oui</i>, blind, m'sieur," added Henri, falling partly into French in his +amazement. He was raising his rifle again. Weyman seized it firmly.</p> + +<p align="center"><img src="004.jpg" alt="[Illustration: "Wait! it's not a wolf!"]" /></p> + +<p>"Don't kill them, Henri," he said. "Give them to me—alive. Figure up +the value of the lynx they have destroyed, and add to that the wolf +bounty, and I will pay. Alive, they are worth to me a great deal. My +God, a dog—and a blind wolf—<i>mates</i>!"</p> + +<p>He still held Henri's rifle, and Henri was staring at him, as if he did +not yet quite understand.</p> + +<p>Weyman continued speaking, his eyes and face blazing.</p> + +<p>"A dog—and a blind wolf—<i>mates</i>!" he repeated. "It is wonderful, +Henri. Down there, they will say I have gone beyond <i>reason</i>, when my +book comes out. But I shall have proof. I shall take twenty photographs +here, before you kill the lynx. I shall keep the dog and the wolf alive. +And I shall pay you, Henri, a hundred dollars apiece for the two. May I +have them?"</p> + +<p>Henri nodded. He held his rifle in readiness, while Weyman unpacked his +camera and got to work. Snarling fangs greeted the click of the +camera-shutter—the fangs of wolf and lynx. But Kazan lay cringing, not +through fear, but because he still recognized the mastery of man. And +when he had finished with his pictures, Weyman approached almost within +reach of him, and spoke even more kindly to him than the man who had +lived back in the deserted cabin.</p> + +<p>Henri shot the lynx, and when Kazan understood this, he tore at the end +of his trap-chains and snarled at the writhing body of his forest enemy. +By means of a pole and a babiche noose, Kazan was brought out from under +the windfall and taken to Henri's cabin. The two men then returned with +a thick sack and more babiche, and blind Gray Wolf, still fettered by +the traps, was made prisoner. All the rest of that day Weyman and Henri +worked to build a stout cage of saplings, and when it was finished, the +two prisoners were placed in it.</p> + +<p>Before the dog was put in with Gray Wolf, Weyman closely examined the +worn and tooth-marked collar about his neck.</p> + +<p>On the brass plate he found engraved the one word, "Kazan," and with a +strange thrill made note of it in his diary.</p> + +<p>After this Weyman often remained at the cabin when Henri went out on the +trap-line. After the second day he dared to put his hand between the +sapling bars and touch Kazan, and the next day Kazan accepted a piece of +raw moose meat from his hand. But at his approach, Gray Wolf would +always hide under the pile of balsam in the corner of their prison. The +instinct of generations and perhaps of centuries had taught her that man +was her deadliest enemy. And yet, this man did not hurt her, and Kazan +was not afraid of him. She was frightened at first; then puzzled, and a +growing curiosity followed that. Occasionally, after the third day, she +would thrust her blind face out of the balsam and sniff the air when +Weyman was at the cage, making friends with Kazan. But she would not +eat. Weyman noted that, and each day he tempted her with the choicest +morsels of deer and moose fat. Five days—six—seven passed, and she had +not taken a mouthful. Weyman could count her ribs.</p> + +<p>"She die," Henri told him on the seventh night. "She starve before she +eat in that cage. She want the forest, the wild kill, the fresh blood. +She two—t'ree year old—too old to make civilize."</p> + +<p>Henri went to bed at the usual hour, but Weyman was troubled, and sat +up late. He wrote a long letter to the sweet-faced girl at North +Battleford, and then he turned out the light, and painted visions of her +in the red glow of the fire. He saw her again for that first time when +he camped in the little shack where the fifth city of Saskatchewan now +stood—with her blue eyes, the big shining braid, and the fresh glow of +the prairies in her cheeks. She had hated him—yes, actually hated him, +because he loved to kill. He laughed softly as he thought of that. She +had changed him—wonderfully.</p> + +<p>He rose, opened the door, softly, and went out. Instinctively his eyes +turned westward. The sky was a blaze of stars. In their light he could +see the cage, and he stood, watching and listening. A sound came to him. +It was Gray Wolf gnawing at the sapling bars of her prison. A moment +later there came a low sobbing whine, and he knew that it was Kazan +crying for his freedom.</p> + +<p>Leaning against the side of the cabin was an ax. Weyman seized it, and +his lips smiled silently. He was thrilled by a strange happiness, and a +thousand miles away in that city on the Saskatchewan he could feel +another spirit rejoicing with him. He moved toward the cage. A dozen +blows, and two of the sapling bars were knocked out. Then Weyman drew +back. Gray Wolf found the opening first, and she slipped out into the +starlight like a shadow. But she did not flee. Out in the open space she +waited for Kazan, and for a moment the two stood there, looking at the +cabin. Then they set off into freedom, Gray Wolf's shoulder at Kazan's +flank.</p> + +<p>Weyman breathed deeply.</p> + +<p>"Two by two—always two by two, until death finds one of them," he +whispered.</p> + + + + +<a name="12"></a> +<h2>Chapter XII</h2> + +<h3>The Red Death</h3> + +<p>Kazan and Gray Wolf wandered northward into the Fond du Lac country, and +were there when Jacques, a Hudson Bay Company's runner, came up to the +post from the south with the first authentic news of the dread +plague—the smallpox. For weeks there had been rumors on all sides. And +rumor grew into rumor. From the east, the south and the west they +multiplied, until on all sides the Paul Reveres of the wilderness were +carrying word that <i>La Mort Rouge</i>—the Red Death—was at their heels, +and the chill of a great fear swept like a shivering wind from the edge +of civilization to the bay. Nineteen years before these same rumors had +come up from the south, and the Red Terror had followed. The horror of +it still remained with the forest people, for a thousand unmarked +graves, shunned like a pestilence, and scattered from the lower waters +of James Bay to the lake country of the Athabasca, gave evidence of the +toll it demanded.</p> + +<p>Now and then in their wanderings Kazan and Gray Wolf had come upon the +little mounds that covered the dead. Instinct—something that was +infinitely beyond the comprehension of man—made them <i>feel</i> the +presence of death about them, perhaps smell it in the air. Gray Wolf's +wild blood and her blindness gave her an immense advantage over Kazan +when it came to detecting those mysteries of the air and the earth which +the eyes were not made to see. Each day that had followed that terrible +moonlit night on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded her, had added +to the infallibility of her two chief senses—hearing and scent. And it +was she who discovered the presence of the plague first, just as she had +scented the great forest fire hours before Kazan had found it in the +air.</p> + +<p>Kazan had lured her back to a trap-line. The trail they found was old. +It had not been traveled for many days. In a trap they found a rabbit, +but it had been dead a long time. In another there was the carcass of a +fox, torn into bits by the owls. Most of the traps were sprung. Others +were covered with snow. Kazan, with his three-quarters strain of dog, +ran over the trail from trap to trap, intent only on something +alive—meat to devour. Gray Wolf, in her blindness, scented <i>death</i>. It +shivered in the tree-tops above her. She found it in every trap-house +they came to—death—<i>man death</i>. It grew stronger and stronger, and +she whined, and nipped Kazan's flank. And Kazan went on. Gray Wolf +followed him to the edge of the clearing in which Loti's cabin stood, +and then she sat back on her haunches, raised her blind face to the gray +sky, and gave a long and wailing cry. In that moment the bristles began +to stand up along Kazan's spine. Once, long ago, he had howled before +the tepee of a master who was newly dead, and he settled back on his +haunches, and gave the death-cry with Gray Wolf. He, too, scented it +now. Death was in the cabin, and over the cabin there stood a sapling +pole, and at the end of the pole there fluttered a strip of red cotton +rag—the warning flag of the plague from Athabasca to the bay. This man, +like a hundred other heroes of the North, had run up the warning before +he laid himself down to die. And that same night, in the cold light of +the moon, Kazan and Gray Wolf swung northward into the country of the +Fond du Lac.</p> + +<p>There preceded them a messenger from the post on Reindeer Lake, who was +passing up the warning that had come from Nelson House and the country +to the southeast.</p> + +<p>"There's smallpox on the Nelson," the messenger informed Williams, at +Fond du Lac, "and it has struck the Crees on Wollaston Lake. God only +knows what it is doing to the Bay Indians, but we hear it is wiping out +the Chippewas between the Albany and the Churchill." He left the same +day with his winded dogs. "I'm off to carry word to the Reveillon people +to the west," he explained.</p> + +<p>Three days later, word came from Churchill that all of the company's +servants and his majesty's subjects west of the bay should prepare +themselves for the coming of the Red Terror. Williams' thin face turned +as white as the paper he held, as he read the words of the Churchill +factor.</p> + +<p>"It means dig graves," he said. "That's the only preparation we can +make."</p> + +<p>He read the paper aloud to the men at Fond du Lac, and every available +man was detailed to spread the warning throughout the post's territory. +There was a quick harnessing of dogs, and on each sledge that went out +was a roll of red cotton cloth—rolls that were ominous of death, lurid +signals of pestilence and horror, whose touch sent shuddering chills +through the men who were about to scatter them among the forest people. +Kazan and Gray Wolf struck the trail of one of these sledges on the Gray +Beaver, and followed it for half a mile. The next day, farther to the +west, they struck another, and on the fourth day still a third. The last +trail was fresh, and Gray Wolf drew back from it as if stung, her fangs +snarling. On the wind there came to them the pungent odor of smoke. They +cut at right angles to the trail, Gray Wolf leaping clear of the marks +in the snow, and climbed to the cap of a ridge. To windward of them, and +down in the plain, a cabin was burning. A team of huskies and a man were +disappearing in the spruce forest. Deep down in his throat Kazan gave a +rumbling whine. Gray Wolf stood as rigid as a rock. In the cabin a +plague-dead man was burning. It was the law of the North. And the +mystery of the funeral pyre came again to Kazan and Gray Wolf. This time +they did not howl, but slunk down into the farther plain, and did not +stop that day until they had buried themselves deep in a dry and +sheltered swamp ten miles to the north.</p> + +<p>After this they followed the days and weeks which marked the winter of +nineteen hundred and ten as one of the most terrible in all the history +of the Northland—a single month in which wild life as well as human +hung in the balance, and when cold, starvation and plague wrote a +chapter in the lives of the forest people which will not be forgotten +for generations to come.</p> + +<p>In the swamp Kazan and Gray Wolf found a home under a windfall. It was a +small comfortable nest, shut in entirely from the snow and wind. Gray +Wolf took possession of it immediately. She flattened herself out on her +belly, and panted to show Kazan her contentment and satisfaction. Nature +again kept Kazan close at her side. A vision came to him, unreal and +dream-like, of that wonderful night under the stars—ages and ages ago, +it seemed—when he had fought the leader of the wolf-pack, and young +Gray Wolf had crept to his side after his victory and had given herself +to him for mate. But this mating season there was no running after the +doe or the caribou, or mingling with the wild pack. They lived chiefly +on rabbit and spruce partridge, because of Gray Wolf's blindness. Kazan +could hunt those alone. The hair had now grown over Gray Wolf's +sightless eyes. She had ceased to grieve, to rub her eyes with her paws, +to whine for the sunlight, the golden moon and the stars. Slowly she +began to forget that she had ever seen those things. She could now run +more swiftly at Kazan's flank. Scent and hearing had become wonderfully +keen. She could wind a caribou two miles distant, and the presence of +man she could pick up at an even greater distance. On a still night she +had heard the splash of a trout half a mile away. And as these two +things—scent and hearing—became more and more developed in her, those +same senses became less active in Kazan.</p> + +<p>He began to depend upon Gray Wolf. She would point out the hiding-place +of a partridge fifty yards from their trail. In their hunts she became +the leader—until game was found. And as Kazan learned to trust to her +in the hunt, so he began just as instinctively to heed her warnings. If +Gray Wolf reasoned, it was to the effect that without Kazan she would +die. She had tried hard now and then to catch a partridge, or a rabbit, +but she had always failed. Kazan meant life to her. And—if she +reasoned—it was to make herself indispensable to her mate. Blindness +had made her different than she would otherwise have been. Again nature +promised motherhood to her. But she did not—as she would have done in +the open, and with sight—hold more and more aloof from Kazan as the +days passed. It was her habit, spring, summer and winter, to snuggle +close to Kazan and lie with her beautiful head resting on his neck or +back. If Kazan snarled at her she did not snap back, but slunk down as +though struck a blow. With her warm tongue she would lick away the ice +that froze to the long hair between Kazan's toes. For days after he had +run a sliver in his paw she nursed his foot. Blindness had made Kazan +absolutely necessary to her existence—and now, in a different way, she +became more and more necessary to Kazan. They were happy in their swamp +home. There was plenty of small game about them, and it was warm under +the windfall. Rarely did they go beyond the limits of the swamp to hunt. +Out on the more distant plains and the barren ridges they occasionally +heard the cry of the wolf-pack on the trail of meat, but it no longer +thrilled them with a desire to join in the chase.</p> + +<p>One day they struck farther than usual to the west. They left the swamp, +crossed a plain over which a fire had swept the preceding year, climbed +a ridge, and descended into a second plain. At the bottom Gray Wolf +stopped and sniffed the air. At these times Kazan always watched her, +waiting eagerly and nervously if the scent was too faint for him to +catch. But to-day he caught the edge of it, and he knew why Gray Wolf's +ears flattened, and her hindquarters drooped. The scent of game would +have made her rigid and alert. But it was not the game smell. It was +human, and Gray Wolf slunk behind Kazan and whined. For several minutes +they stood without moving or making a sound, and then Kazan led the way +on. Less than three hundred yards away they came to a thick clump of +scrub spruce, and almost ran into a snow-smothered tepee. It was +abandoned. Life and fire had not been there for a long time. But from +the tepee had come the man-smell. With legs rigid and his spine +quivering Kazan approached the opening to the tepee. He looked in. In +the middle of the tepee, lying on the charred embers of a fire, lay a +ragged blanket—and in the blanket was wrapped the body of a little +Indian child. Kazan could see the tiny moccasined feet. But so long had +death been there that he could scarcely smell the presence of it. He +drew back, and saw Gray Wolf cautiously nosing about a long and +peculiarly shaped hummock in the snow. She had traveled about it three +times, but never approaching nearer than a man could have reached with a +rifle barrel. At the end of her third circle she sat down on her +haunches, and Kazan went close to the hummock and sniffed. Under that +bulge in the snow, as well as in the tepee, there was death. They slunk +away, their ears flattened and their tails drooping until they trailed +the snow, and did not stop until they reached their swamp home. Even +there Gray Wolf still sniffed the horror of the plague, and her muscles +twitched and shivered as she lay close at Kazan's side.</p> + +<p>That night the big white moon had around its edge a crimson rim. It +meant cold—intense cold. Always the plague came in the days of greatest +cold—the lower the temperature the more terrible its havoc. It grew +steadily colder that night, and the increased chill penetrated to the +heart of the windfall, and drew Kazan and Gray Wolf closer together. +With dawn, which came at about eight o'clock, Kazan and his blind mate +sallied forth into the day. It was fifty degrees below zero. About them +the trees cracked with reports like pistol-shots. In the thickest spruce +the partridges were humped into round balls of feathers. The snow-shoe +rabbits had burrowed deep under the snow or to the heart of the heaviest +windfalls. Kazan and Gray Wolf found few fresh trails, and after an +hour of fruitless hunting they returned to their lair. Kazan, dog-like, +had buried the half of a rabbit two or three days before, and they dug +this out of the snow and ate the frozen flesh.</p> + +<p>All that day it grew colder—steadily colder. The night that followed +was cloudless, with a white moon and brilliant stars. The temperature +had fallen another ten degrees, and nothing was moving. Traps were never +sprung on such nights, for even the furred things—the mink, and the +ermine, and the lynx—lay snug in the holes and the nests they had found +for themselves. An increasing hunger was not strong enough to drive +Kazan and Gray Wolf from their windfall. The next day there was no break +in the terrible cold, and toward noon Kazan set out on a hunt for meat, +leaving Gray Wolf in the windfall. Being three-quarters dog, food was +more necessary to Kazan than to his mate. Nature has fitted the +wolf-breed for famine, and in ordinary temperature Gray Wolf could have +lived for a fortnight without food. At sixty degrees below zero she +could exist a week, perhaps ten days. Only thirty hours had passed +sinee they had devoured the last of the frozen rabbit, and she was quite +satisfied to remain in their snug retreat.</p> + +<p>But Kazan was hungry. He began to hunt in the face of the wind, +traveling toward the burned plain. He nosed about every windfall that he +came to, and investigated the thickets. A thin shot-like snow had +fallen, and in this—from the windfall to the burn—he found but a +single trail, and that was the trail of an ermine. Under a windfall he +caught the warm scent of a rabbit, but the rabbit was as safe from him +there as were the partridges in the trees, and after an hour of futile +digging and gnawing he gave up his effort to reach it. For three hours +he had hunted when he returned to Gray Wolf. He was exhausted. While +Gray Wolf, with the instinct of the wild, had saved her own strength and +energy, Kazan had been burning up his reserve forces, and was hungrier +than ever.</p> + +<p>The moon rose clear and brilliant in the sky again that night, and Kazan +set out once more on the hunt. He urged Gray Wolf to accompany him, +whining for her outside the windfall—returning for her twice—but +Gray Wolf laid her ears aslant and refused to move. The temperature had +now fallen to sixty-five or seventy degrees below zero, and with it +there came from the north an increasing wind, making the night one in +which human life could not have existed for an hour. By midnight Kazan +was back under the windfall. The wind grew stronger. It began to wail in +mournful dirges over the swamp, and then it burst in fierce shrieking +volleys, with intervals of quiet between. These were the first warnings +from the great barrens that lay between the last lines of timber and the +Arctic. With morning the storm burst in all its fury from out of the +north, and Gray Wolf and Kazan lay close together and shivered as they +listened to the roar of it over the windfall. Once Kazan thrust his head +and shoulders out from the shelter of the fallen trees, but the storm +drove him back. Everything that possessed life had sought shelter, +according to its way and instinct. The furred creatures like the mink +and the ermine were safest, for during the warmer hunting days they were +of the kind that cached meat. The wolves and the foxes had sought out +the windfalls, and the rocks. Winged things, with the exception of the +owls, who were a tenth part body and nine-tenths feathers, burrowed +under snow-drifts or found shelter in thick spruce. To the hoofed and +horned animals the storm meant greatest havoc. The deer, the caribou and +the moose could not crawl under windfalls or creep between rocks. The +best they could do was to lie down in the lee of a drift, and allow +themselves to be covered deep with the protecting snow. Even then they +could not keep their shelter long, for they had to <i>eat</i>. For eighteen +hours out of the twenty-four the moose had to feed to keep himself alive +during the winter. His big stomach demanded quantity, and it took him +most of his time to nibble from the tops of bushes the two or three +bushels he needed a day. The caribou required almost as much—the deer +least of the three.</p> + +<p>And the storm kept up that day, and the next, and still a third—three +days and three nights—and the third day and night there came with it a +stinging, shot-like snow that fell two feet deep on the level, and in +drifts of eight and ten. It was the "heavy snow" of the Indians—the +snow that lay like lead on the earth, and under which partridges and +rabbits were smothered in thousands.</p> + +<p>On the fourth day after the beginning of the storm Kazan and Gray Wolf +issued forth from the windfall. There was no longer a wind—no more +falling snow. The whole world lay under a blanket of unbroken white, and +it was intensely cold.</p> + +<p>The plague had worked its havoc with men. Now had come the days of +famine and death for the wild things.</p> + + + + +<a name="13"></a> +<h2>Chapter XIII</h2> + +<h3>The Trail Of Hunger</h3> + +<p>Kazan and Gray Wolf had been a hundred and forty hours without food. To +Gray Wolf this meant acute discomfort, a growing weakness. To Kazan it +was starvation. Six days and six nights of fasting had drawn in their +ribs and put deep hollows in front of their hindquarters. Kazan's eyes +were red, and they narrowed to slits as he looked forth into the day. +Gray Wolf followed him this time when he went out on the hard snow. +Eagerly and hopefully they began the hunt in the bitter cold. They swung +around the edge of the windfall, where there had always been rabbits. +There were no tracks now, and no scent. They continued in a horseshoe +circle through the swamp, and the only scent they caught was that of a +snow-owl perched up in a spruce. They came to the burn and turned back, +hunting the opposite side of the swamp. On this side there was a ridge. +They climbed the ridge, and from the cap of it looked out over a world +that was barren of life. Ceaselessly Gray Wolf sniffed the air, but she +gave no signal to Kazan. On the top of the ridge Kazan stood panting. +His endurance was gone. On their return through the swamp he stumbled +over an obstacle which he tried to clear with a jump. Hungrier and +weaker, they returned to the windfall. The night that followed was +clear, and brilliant with stars. They hunted the swamp again. Nothing +was moving—save one other creature, and that was a fox. Instinct told +them that it was futile to follow him.</p> + +<p>It was then that the old thought of the cabin returned to Kazan. Two +things the cabin had always meant to him—warmth and food. And far +beyond the ridge was the cabin, where he and Gray Wolf had howled at the +scent of death. He did not think of man—or of that mystery which he had +howled at. He thought only of the cabin, and the cabin had always meant +food. He set off in a straight line for the ridge, and Gray Wolf +followed. They crossed the ridge and the burn beyond, and entered the +edge of a second swamp. Kazan was hunting listlessly now. His head hung +low. His bushy tail dragged in the snow. He was intent on the +cabin—only the cabin. It was his last hope. But Gray Wolf was still +alert, taking in the wind, and lifting her head whenever Kazan stopped +to snuffle his chilled nose in the snow. At last it came—the scent! +Kazan had moved on, but he stopped when he found that Gray Wolf was not +following. All the strength that was in his starved body revealed itself +in a sudden rigid tenseness as he looked at his mate. Her forefeet were +planted firmly to the east; her slim gray head was reaching out for the +scent; her body trembled.</p> + +<p>Then—suddenly—they heard a sound, and with a whining cry Kazan set out +in its direction, with Gray Wolf at his flank. The scent grew stronger +and stronger in Gray Wolf's nostrils, and soon it came to Kazan. It was +not the scent of a rabbit or a partridge. It was big game. They +approached cautiously, keeping full in the wind. The swamp grew +thicker, the spruce more dense, and now—from a hundred yards ahead of +them—there came a crashing of locked and battling horns. Ten seconds +more they climbed over a snowdrift, and Kazan stopped and dropped flat +on his belly. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, her blind eyes +turned to what she could smell but could not see.</p> + +<p>Fifty yards from them a number of moose had gathered for shelter in the +thick spruce. They had eaten clear a space an acre in extent. The trees +were cropped bare as high as they could reach, and the snow was beaten +hard under their feet. There were six animals in the acre, two of them +bulls—and these bulls were fighting, while three cows and a yearling +were huddled in a group watching the mighty duel. Just before the storm +a young bull, sleek, three-quarters grown, and with the small compact +antlers of a four-year-old, had led the three cows and the yearling to +this sheltered spot among the spruce. Until last night he had been +master of the herd. During the night the older bull had invaded his +dominion. The invader was four times as old as the young bull. He was +half again as heavy. His huge palmate horns, knotted and irregular—but +massive—spoke of age. A warrior of a hundred fights, he had not +hesitated to give battle in his effort to rob the younger bull of his +home and family. Three times they had fought since dawn, and the +hard-trodden snow was red with blood. The smell of it came to Kazan's +and Gray Wolf's nostrils. Kazan sniffed hungrily. Queer sounds rolled up +and down in Gray Wolf's throat, and she licked her jaws.</p> + +<p>For a moment the two fighters drew a few yards apart, and stood with +lowered heads. The old bull had not yet won victory. The younger bull +represented youth and endurance; in the older bull those things were +pitted against craft, greater weight, maturer strength—and a head and +horns that were like a battering ram. But in that great hulk of the +older bull there was one other thing—age. His huge sides were panting. +His nostrils were as wide as bells. Then, as if some invisible spirit of +the arena had given the signal, the animals came together again. The +crash of their horns could have been heard half a mile away, and under +twelve hundred pounds of flesh and bone the younger hull went plunging +back upon his haunches. Then was when youth displayed itself. In an +instant he was up, and locking horns with his adversary. Twenty times he +had done this, and each attack had seemed filled with increasing +strength. And now, as if realizing that the last moments of the last +fight had come, he twisted the old bull's neck and fought as he had +never fought before. Kazan and Gray Wolf both heard the sharp crack that +followed—as if a dry stick had been stepped upon and broken. It was +February, and the hoofed animals were already beginning to shed their +horns—especially the older bulls, whose palmate growths drop first. +This fact gave victory to the younger bull in the blood-stained arena a +few yards from Gray Wolf and Kazan. From its socket in the old bull's +skull one of his huge antlers broke with that sharp snapping sound, and +in another moment four inches of stiletto-like horn buried itself back +of his foreleg. In an instant all hope and courage left him, and he +swung backward yard by yard, with the younger bull prodding his neck and +shoulders until blood dripped from him in little streams. At the edge +of the clearing he flung himself free and crashed off into the forest.</p> + +<p>The younger bull did not pursue. He tossed his head, and stood for a few +moments with heaving sides and dilated nostrils, facing in the direction +his vanquished foe had taken. Then he turned, and trotted back to the +still motionless cows and yearling.</p> + +<p>Kazan and Gray Wolf were quivering. Gray Wolf slunk back from the edge +of the clearing, and Kazan followed. No longer were they interested in +the cows and the young bull. From that clearing they had seen meat +driven forth—meat that was beaten in fight, and bleeding. Every +instinct of the wild pack returned to Gray Wolf now—and in Kazan the +mad desire to taste the blood he smelled. Swiftly they turned toward the +blood-stained trail of the old bull, and when they came to it they found +it spattered red. Kazan's jaws dripped as the hot scent drove the blood +like veins of fire through his weakened body. His eyes were reddened by +starvation, and in them there was a light now that they had never known +even in the days of the wolf-pack.</p> + +<p>He set off swiftly, almost forgetful of Gray Wolf. But his mate no +longer required his flank for guidance. With her nose close to the trail +she ran—ran as she had run in the long and thrilling hunts before +blindness came. Half a mile from the spruce thicket they came upon the +old bull. He had sought shelter behind a clump of balsam, and he stood +over a growing pool of blood in the snow. He was still breathing hard. +His massive head, grotesque now with its one antler, was drooping. +Flecks of blood dropped from his distended nostrils. Even then, with the +old bull weakened by starvation, exhaustion and loss of blood, a +wolf-pack would have hung back before attacking. Where they would have +hesitated, Kazan leaped in with a snarling cry. For an instant his fangs +sunk into the thick hide of the bull's throat. Then he was flung +back—twenty feet. Hunger gnawing at his vitals robbed him of all +caution, and he sprang to the attack again—full at the bull's +front—while Gray Wolf crept up unseen behind, seeking in her blindness +the vulnerable part which nature had not taught Kazan to find.</p> + +<p>This time Kazan was caught fairly on the broad palmate leaf of the +bull's antler, and he was flung back again, half stunned. In that same +moment Gray Wolf's long white teeth cut like knives through one of the +bull's rope-like hamstrings. For thirty seconds she kept the hold, while +the bull plunged wildly in his efforts to trample her underfoot. Kazan +was quick to learn, still quicker to be guided by Gray Wolf, and he +leaped in again, snapping for a hold on the bulging cord just above the +knee. He missed, and as he lunged forward on his shoulders Gray Wolf was +flung off. But she had accomplished her purpose. Beaten in open battle +with one of his kind, and now attacked by a still deadlier foe, the old +bull began to retreat. As he went, one hip sank under him at every step. +The tendon of his left leg was bitten half through.</p> + +<p>Without being able to see, Gray Wolf seemed to realize what had +happened. Again she was the pack-wolf—with all the old wolf strategy. +Twice flung back by the old bull's horn, Kazan knew better than to +attack openly again. Gray Wolf trotted after the bull, but he remained +behind for a moment to lick up hungrily mouthfuls of the blood-soaked +snow. Then he followed, and ran close against Gray Wolf's side, fifty +yards behind the bull. There was more blood in the trail now—a thin red +ribbon of it. Fifteen minutes later the bull stopped again, and faced +about, his great head lowered. His eyes were red. There was a droop to +his neck and shoulders that spoke no longer of the unconquerable +fighting spirit that had been a part of him for nearly a score of years. +No longer was he lord of the wilderness about him; no longer was there +defiance in the poise of his splendid head, or the flash of eager fire +in his bloodshot eyes. His breath came with a gasping sound that was +growing more and more distinct. A hunter would have known what it meant. +The stiletto-point of the younger bull's antler had gone home, and the +old bull's lungs were failing him. More than once Gray Wolf had heard +that sound in the early days of her hunting with the pack, and she +understood. Slowly she began to circle about the wounded monarch at a +distance of about twenty yards. Kazan kept at her side.</p> + +<p>Once—twice—twenty times they made that slow circle, and with each turn +they made the old bull turned, and his breath grew heavier and his head +drooped lower. Noon came, and was followed by the more intense cold of +the last half of the day. Twenty circles became a hundred—two +hundred—and more. Under Gray Wolf's and Kazan's feet the snow grew hard +in the path they made. Under the old bull's widespread hoofs the snow +was no longer white—but red. A thousand times before this unseen +tragedy of the wilderness had been enacted. It was an epoch of that life +where life itself means the survival of the fittest, where to live means +to kill, and to die means to perpetuate life. At last, in that steady +and deadly circling of Gray Wolf and Kazan, there came a time when the +old bull did not turn—then a second, a third and a fourth time, and +Gray Wolf seemed to know. With Kazan she drew back from the hard-beaten +trail, and they flattened themselves on their bellies under a dwarf +spruce—and waited. For many minutes the bull stood motionless, his +hamstrung quarter sinking lower and lower. And then with a deep +blood-choked gasp he sank down.</p> + +<p>For a long time Kazan and Gray Wolf did not move, and when at last they +returned to the beaten trail the bull's heavy head was resting on the +snow. Again they began to circle, and now the circle narrowed foot by +foot, until only ten yards—then nine—then eight—separated them from +their prey. The bull attempted to rise, and failed. Gray Wolf heard the +effort. She heard him sink back and suddenly she leaped in swiftly and +silently from behind. Her sharp fangs buried themselves in the bull's +nostrils, and with the first instinct of the husky, Kazan sprang for a +throat hold. This time he was not flung off. It was Gray Wolf's terrible +hold that gave him time to tear through the half-inch hide, and to bury +his teeth deeper and deeper, until at last they reached the jugular. A +gush of warm blood spurted into his face. But he did not let go. Just as +he had held to the jugular of his first buck on that moonlight night a +long time ago, so he held to the old bull now. It was Gray Wolf who +unclamped his jaws. She drew back, sniffing the air, listening. Then, +slowly, she raised her head, and through the frozen and starving +wilderness there went her wailing triumphant cry—the call to meat.</p> + +<p>For them the days of famine had passed.</p> + + + + +<a name="14"></a> +<h2>Chapter XIV</h2> + +<h3>The Right Of Fang</h3> + +<p>After the fight Kazan lay down exhausted in the blood-stained snow, +while faithful Gray Wolf, still filled with the endurance of her wild +wolf breed, tore fiercely at the thick skin on the bull's neck to lay +open the red flesh. When she had done this she did not eat, but ran to +Kazan's side and whined softly as she muzzled him with her nose. After +that they feasted, crouching side by side at the bull's neck and tearing +at the warm sweet flesh.</p> + +<p>The last pale light of the northern day was fading swiftly into night +when they drew back, gorged until there were no longer hollows in their +sides. The faint wind died away. The clouds that had hung in the sky +during the day drifted eastward, and the moon shone brilliant and clear. +For an hour the night continued to grow lighter. To the brilliance of +the moon and the stars there was added now the pale fires of the aurora +borealis, shivering and flashing over the Pole.</p> + +<p>Its hissing crackling monotone, like the creaking of steel +sledge-runners on frost-filled snow, came faintly to the ears of Kazan +and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>As yet they had not gone a hundred yards from the dead bull, and at the +first sound of that strange mystery in the northern skies they stopped +and listened to it, alert and suspicious. Then they laid their ears +aslant and trotted slowly back to the meat they had killed. Instinct +told them that it was theirs only by right of fang. They had fought to +kill it. And it was in the law of the wild that they would have to fight +to keep it. In good hunting days they would have gone on and wandered +under the moon and the stars. But long days and nights of starvation had +taught them something different now.</p> + +<p>On that clear and stormless night following the days of plague and +famine, a hundred thousand hungry creatures came out from their retreats +to hunt for food. For eighteen hundred miles east and west and a +thousand miles north and south, slim gaunt-bellied creatures hunted +under the moon and the stars. Something told Kazan and Gray Wolf that +this hunt was on, and never for an instant did they cease their +vigilance. At last they lay down at the edge of the spruce thicket, and +waited. Gray Wolf muzzled Kazan gently with her blind face. The uneasy +whine in her throat was a warning to him. Then she sniffed the air, and +listened—sniffed and listened.</p> + +<p>Suddenly every muscle in their bodies grew rigid. Something living had +passed near them, something that they could not see or hear, and +scarcely scent. It came again, as mysterious as a shadow, and then out +of the air there floated down as silently as a huge snowflake a great +white owl. Kazan saw the hungry winged creature settle on the bull's +shoulder. Like a flash he was out from his cover, Gray Wolf a yard +behind him. With an angry snarl he lunged at the white robber, and his +jaws snapped on empty air. His leap carried him clean over the bull. He +turned, but the owl was gone.</p> + +<p>Nearly all of his old strength had returned to him now. He trotted about +the bull, the hair along his spine bristling like a brush, his eyes +wide and menacing. He snarled at the still air. His jaws clicked, and he +sat back on his haunches and faced the blood-stained trail that the +moose had left before he died. Again that instinct as infallible as +reason told him that danger would come from there.</p> + +<p>Like a red ribbon the trail ran back through the wilderness. The little +swift-moving ermine were everywhere this night, looking like white rats +as they dodged about in the moonlight. They were first to find the +trail, and with all the ferocity of their blood-eating nature followed +it with quick exciting leaps. A fox caught the scent of it a quarter of +a mile to windward, and came nearer. From out of a deep windfall a +beady-eyed, thin-bellied fisher-cat came forth, and stopped with his +feet in the crimson ribbon.</p> + +<p>It was the fisher-cat that brought Kazan out; from under his cover of +spruce again. In the moonlight there was a sharp quick fight, a snarling +and scratching, a cat-like yowl of pain, and the fisher forgot his +hunger in flight. Kazan returned to Gray Wolf with a lacerated and +bleeding nose. Gray Wolf licked it sympathetically, while Kazan stood +rigid and listening.</p> + +<p>The fox swung swiftly away with the wind, warned by the sounds of +conflict. He was not a fighter, but a murderer who killed from behind, +and a little later he leaped upon an owl and tore it into bits for the +half-pound of flesh within the mass of feathers.</p> + +<p>But nothing could drive back those little white outlaws of the +wilderness—the ermine. They would have stolen between the feet of man +to get at the warm flesh and blood of the freshly killed bull. Kazan +hunted them savagely. They were too quick for him, more like elusive +flashes in the moonlight than things of life. They burrowed under the +old bull's body and fed while he raved and filled his mouth with snow. +Gray Wolf sat placidly on her haunches. The little ermine did not +trouble her, and after a time Kazan realized this, and flung himself +down beside her, panting and exhausted.</p> + +<p>For a long time after that the night was almost unbroken by sound. Once +in the far distance there came the cry of a wolf, and now and then, to +punctuate the deathly silence, the snow owl hooted in blood-curdling +protest from his home in the spruce-tops. The moon was straight above +the old bull when Gray Wolf scented the first real danger. Instantly she +gave the warning to Kazan and faced the bloody trail, her lithe body +quivering, her fangs gleaming in the starlight, a snarling whine in her +throat. Only in the face of their deadliest enemy, the lynx—the +terrible fighter who had blinded her long ago in that battle on the Sun +Rock!—did she give such warning as this to Kazan. He sprang ahead of +her, ready for battle even before he caught the scent of the gray +beautiful creature of death stealing over the trail.</p> + +<p>Then came the interruption. From a mile away there burst forth a single +fierce long-drawn howl.</p> + +<p>After all, that was the cry of the true master of the wilderness—the +wolf. It was the cry of hunger. It was the cry that sent men's blood +running more swiftly through their veins, that brought the moose and the +deer to their feet shivering in every limb—the cry that wailed like a +note of death through swamp and forest and over the snow-smothered +ridges until its faintest echoes reached for miles into the starlit +night.</p> + +<p>There was silence, and in that awesome stillness Kazan and Gray Wolf +stood shoulder to shoulder facing the cry, and in response to that cry +there worked within them a strange and mystic change, for what they had +heard was not a warning or a menace but the call of Brotherhood. Away +off there—beyond the lynx and the fox and the fisher-cat, were the +creatures of their kind, the wild-wolf pack, to which the right to all +flesh and blood was common—in which existed that savage socialism of +the wilderness, the Brotherhood of the Wolf. And Gray Wolf, setting back +on her haunches, sent forth the response to that cry—a wailing +triumphant note that told her hungry brethren there was feasting at the +end of the trail.</p> + +<p>And the lynx, between those two cries, sneaked off into the wide and +moonlit spaces of the forest.</p> + + + + +<a name="15"></a> +<h2>Chapter XV</h2> + +<h3>A Fight Under The Stars</h3> + +<p>On their haunches Kazan and Gray Wolf waited. Five minutes passed, +ten—fifteen—and Gray Wolf became uneasy. No response had followed her +call. Again she howled, with Kazan quivering and listening beside her, +and again there followed that dead stillness of the night. This was not +the way of the pack. She knew that it had not gone beyond the reach of +her voice and its silence puzzled her. And then in a flash it came to +them both that the pack, or the single wolf whose cry they had heard, +was very near them. The scent was warm. A few moments later Kazan saw a +moving object in the moonlight. It was followed by another, and still +another, until there were five slouching in a half-circle about them, +seventy yards away. Then they laid themselves flat in the snow and were +motionless.</p> + +<p>A snarl turned Kazan's eyes to Gray Wolf. His blind mate had drawn +back. Her white fangs gleamed menacingly in the starlight. Her ears were +flat. Kazan was puzzled. Why was she signaling danger to him when it was +the wolf, and not the lynx, out there in the snow? And why did the +wolves not come in and feast? Slowly he moved toward them, and Gray Wolf +called to him with her whine. He paid no attention to her, but went on, +stepping lightly, his head high in the air, his spine bristling.</p> + +<p>In the scent of the strangers, Kazan was catching something now that was +strangely familiar. It drew him toward them more swiftly and when at +last he stopped twenty yards from where the little group lay flattened +in the snow, his thick brush waved slightly. One of the animals sprang +up and approached. The others followed and in another moment Kazan was +in the midst of them, smelling and smelled, and wagging his tail. They +were dogs, and not wolves.</p> + +<p>In some lonely cabin in the wilderness their master had died, and they +had taken to the forests. They still bore signs of the sledge-traces. +About their necks were moose-hide collars. The hair was worn short at +their flanks, and one still dragged after him three feet of corded +babiche trace. Their eyes gleamed red and hungry in the glow of the moon +and the stars. They were thin, and gaunt and starved, and Kazan suddenly +turned and trotted ahead of them to the side of the dead bull. Then he +fell back and sat proudly on his haunches beside Gray Wolf, listening to +the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh as the starved pack +feasted.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf slunk closer to Kazan. She muzzled his neck and Kazan gave her +a swift dog-like caress of his tongue, assuring her that all was well. +She flattened herself in the snow when the dogs had finished and came up +in their dog way to sniff at her, and make closer acquaintance with +Kazan. Kazan towered over her, guarding her. One huge red-eyed dog who +still dragged the bit of babiche trace muzzled Gray Wolf's soft neck for +a fraction of a second too long, and Kazan uttered a savage snarl of +warning. The dog drew back, and for a moment their fangs gleamed over +Gray Wolf's blind face. It was the Challenge of the Breed.</p> + +<p>The big husky was the leader of the pack, and if one of the other dogs +had snarled at him, as Kazan snarled he would have leaped at his throat. +But in Kazan, standing fierce and half wild over Gray Wolf, he +recognized none of the serfdom of the sledge-dogs. It was master facing +master; in Kazan it was more than that for he was Gray Wolf's mate. In +an instant more he would have leaped over her body to have fought for +her, more than for the right of leadership. But the big husky turned +away sullenly, growling, still snarling, and vented his rage by nipping +fiercely at the flank of one of his sledge-mates.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf understood what had happened, though she could not see. She +shrank closer to Kazan. She knew that the moon and the stars had looked +down on that thing that always meant death—the challenge to the right +of mate. With her luring coyness, whining and softly muzzling his +shoulder and neck, she tried to draw Kazan away from the pad-beaten +circle in which the bull lay. Kazan's answer was an ominous rolling of +smothered thunder deep down in his throat. He lay down beside her, +licked her blind face swiftly, and faced the stranger dogs.</p> + +<p>The moon sank lower and lower and at last dropped behind the western +forests. The stars grew paler. One by one they faded from the sky and +after a time there followed the cold gray dawn of the North. In that +dawn the big husky leader rose from the hole he had made in the snow and +returned to the bull. Kazan, alert, was on his feet in an instant and +stood also close to the bull. The two circled ominously, their heads +lowered, their crests bristling. The husky drew away, and Kazan crouched +at the bull's neck and began tearing at the frozen flesh. He was not +hungry. But in this way he showed his right to the flesh, his defiance +of the right of the big husky.</p> + +<p>For a few seconds he forgot Gray Wolf. The husky had slipped back like a +shadow and now he stood again over Gray Wolf, sniffing her neck and +body. Then he whined. In that whine were the passion, the invitation, +the demand of the Wild. So quickly that the eye could scarcely follow +her movement faithful Gray Wolf sank her gleaming fangs in the husky's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>A gray streak—nothing more tangible than a streak of gray, silent and +terrible, shot through the dawn-gloom. It was Kazan. He came without a +snarl, without a cry, and in a moment he and the husky were in the +throes of terrific battle.</p> + +<p>The four other huskies ran in quickly and stood waiting a dozen paces +from the combatants. Gray Wolf lay crouched on her belly. The giant +husky and the quarter-strain wolf-dog were not fighting like sledge-dog +or wolf. For a few moments rage and hatred made them fight like +mongrels. Both had holds. Now one was down, and now the other, and so +swiftly did they change their positions that the four waiting +sledge-dogs were puzzled and stood motionless. Under other conditions +they would have leaped upon the first of the fighters to be thrown upon +his back and torn him to pieces. That was the way of the wolf and the +wolf-dog. But now they stood back, hesitating and fearful.</p> + +<p>The big husky had never been beaten in battle. Great Dane ancestors had +given him a huge bulk and a jaw that could crush an ordinary dog's head. +But in Kazan he was meeting not only the dog and the wolf, but all that +was best in the two. And Kazan had the advantage of a few hours of rest +and a full stomach. More than that, he was fighting for Gray Wolf. His +fangs had sunk deep in the husky's shoulder, and the husky's long teeth +met through the hide and flesh of his neck. An inch deeper, and they +would have pierced his jugular. Kazan knew this, as he crunched his +enemy's shoulder-bone, and every instant—even in their fiercest +struggling—he was guarding against a second and more successful lunge +of those powerful jaws.</p> + +<p>At last the lunge came, and quicker than the wolf itself Kazan freed +himself and leaped back. His chest dripped blood, but he did not feel +the hurt. They began slowly to circle, and now the watching sledge-dogs +drew a step or two nearer, and their jaws drooled nervously and their +red eyes glared as they waited for the fatal moment. Their eyes were on +the big husky. He became the pivot of Kazan's wider circle now, and he +limped as he turned. His shoulder was broken. His ears were flattened +as he watched Kazan.</p> + +<p>Kazan's ears were erect, and his feet touched the snow lightly. All his +fighting cleverness and all his caution had returned to him. The blind +rage of a few moments was gone and he fought now as he had fought his +deadliest enemy, the long-clawed lynx. Five times he circled around the +husky, and then like a shot he was in, sending his whole weight against +the husky's shoulder, with the momentum of a ten-foot leap behind it. +This time he did not try for a hold, but slashed at the husky's jaws. It +was the deadliest of all attacks when that merciless tribunal of death +stood waiting for the first fall of the vanquished. The huge dog was +thrown from his feet. For a fatal moment he rolled upon his side and in +the moment his four sledge-mates were upon him. All of their hatred of +the weeks and months in which the long-fanged leader had bullied them in +the traces was concentrated upon him now and he was literally torn into +pieces.</p> + +<p>Kazan pranced to Gray Wolf's side and with a joyful whine she laid her +head over his neck. Twice he had fought the Fight of Death for her. +Twice he had won. And in her blindness Gray Wolf's soul—if soul she +had—rose in exultation to the cold gray sky, and her breast panted +against Kazan's shoulder as she listened to the crunching of fangs in +the flesh and bone of the foe her lord and master had overthrown.</p> + + + + +<a name="16"></a> +<h2>Chapter XVI</h2> + +<h3>The Call</h3> + +<p>Followed days of feasting on the frozen flesh of the old bull. In vain +Gray Wolf tried to lure Kazan off into the forests and the swamps. Day +by day the temperature rose. There was hunting now. And Gray Wolf wanted +to be alone—with Kazan. But with Kazan, as with most men, leadership +and power roused new sensations. And he was the leader of the dog-pack, +as he had once been a leader among the wolves. Not only Gray Wolf +followed at his flank now, but the four huskies trailed behind him. Once +more he was experiencing that triumph and strange thrill that he had +almost forgotten and only Gray Wolf, in that eternal night of her +blindness, felt with dread foreboding the danger into which his newly +achieved czarship might lead him.</p> + +<p>For three days and three nights they remained in the neighborhood of the +dead moose, ready to defend it against others, and yet each day and +each night growing less vigilant in their guard. Then came the fourth +night, on which they killed a young doe. Kazan led in that chase and for +the first time, in the excitement of having the pack at his back, he +left his blind mate behind. When they came to the kill he was the first +to leap at its soft throat. And not until he had begun to tear at the +doe's flesh did the others dare to eat. He was master. He could send +them back with a snarl. At the gleam of his fangs they crouched +quivering on their bellies in the snow.</p> + +<p>Kazan's blood was fomented with brute exultation, and the excitement and +fascination that came in the possession of new power took the place of +Gray Wolf each day a little more. She came in half an hour after the +kill, and there was no longer the lithesome alertness to her slender +legs, or gladness in the tilt of her ears or the poise of her head. She +did not eat much of the doe. Her blind face was turned always in Kazan's +direction. Wherever he moved she followed with her unseeing eyes, as if +expecting each moment his old signal to her—that low throat-note that +had called to her so often when they were alone in the wilderness.</p> + +<p>In Kazan, as leader of the pack, there was working a curious change. If +his mates had been wolves it would not have been difficult for Gray Wolf +to have lured him away. But Kazan was among his own kind. He was a dog. +And they were dogs. Fires that had burned down and ceased to warm him +flamed up in him anew. In his life with Gray Wolf one thing had +oppressed him as it could not oppress her, and that thing was +loneliness. Nature had created him of that kind which requires +companionship—not of one but of many. It had given him birth that he +might listen to and obey the commands of the voice of man. He had grown +to hate men, but of the dogs—his kind—he was a part. He had been happy +with Gray Wolf, happier than he had ever been in the companionship of +men and his blood-brothers. But he had been a long time separated from +the life that had once been his and the call of blood made him for a +time forget. And only Gray Wolf, with that wonderful super-instinct +which nature was giving her in place of her lost sight, foresaw the end +to which it was leading him.</p> + +<p>Each day the temperature continued to rise until when the sun was +warmest the snow began to thaw a little. This was two weeks after the +fight near the bull. Gradually the pack had swung eastward, until it was +now fifty miles east and twenty miles south of the old home under the +windfall. More than ever Gray Wolf began to long for their old nest +under the fallen trees. Again with those first promises of spring in +sunshine and air, there was coming also for the second time in her life +the promise of approaching motherhood.</p> + +<p>But her efforts to draw Kazan back were unavailing, and in spite of her +protest he wandered each day a little farther east and south at the head +of his pack.</p> + +<p>Instinct impelled the four huskies to move in that direction. They had +not yet been long enough a part of the wild to forget the necessity of +man and in that direction there was man. In that direction, and not far +from them now, was the Hudson Bay Company's post to which they and their +dead master owed their allegiance. Kazan did not know this, but one day +something happened to bring back visions and desires that widened still +more the gulf between him and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>They had come to the cap of a ridge when something stopped them. It was +a man's voice crying shrilly that word of long ago that had so often +stirred the blood in Kazan's own veins—"<i>m'hoosh! m'hoosh! +m'hoosh!"</i>—and from the ridge they looked down upon the open space of +the plain, where a team of six dogs was trotting ahead of a sledge, with +a man running behind them, urging them on at every other step with that +cry of "<i>m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!"</i></p> + +<p>Trembling and undecided, the four huskies and the wolf-dog stood on the +ridge with Gray Wolf cringing behind them. Not until man and dogs and +sledge had disappeared did they move, and then they trotted down to the +trail and sniffed at it whiningly and excitedly. For a mile or two they +followed it, Kazan and his mates going fearlessly in the trail. Gray +Wolf hung back, traveling twenty yards to the right of them, with the +hot man-scent driving the blood feverishly through her brain. Only her +love for Kazan—and the faith she still had in him—kept her that near.</p> + +<p>At the edge of a swamp Kazan halted and turned away from the trail. With +the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion +which nothing could quite wipe out—the suspicion that was an +inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf. Gray Wolf whined joyfully +when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her +shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side.</p> + +<p>The "slush" snows followed fast after this. And the "slush" snows meant +spring—and the emptying of the wilderness of human life. Kazan and his +mates soon began to scent the presence and the movement of this life. +They were now within thirty miles of the post. For a hundred miles on +all sides of them the trappers were moving in with their late winter's +catch of furs. From east and west, south and north, all trails led to +the post. The pack was caught in the mesh of them. For a week not a day +passed that they did not cross a fresh trail, and sometimes two or +three.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf was haunted by constant fear. In her blindness she knew that +they were surrounded by the menace of men. To Kazan what was coming to +pass had more and more ceased to fill him with fear and caution. Three +times that week he heard the shouts of men—and once he heard a white +man's laughter and the barking of dogs as their master tossed them their +daily feed of fish. In the air he caught the pungent scent of camp-fires +and one night, in the far distance, he heard a wild snatch of song, +followed by the yelping and barking of a dog-pack.</p> + +<p>Slowly and surely the lure of man drew him nearer to the post—a mile +to-night, two miles to-morrow, but always nearer. And Gray Wolf, +fighting her losing fight to the end, sensed in the danger-filled air +the nearness of that hour when he would respond to the final call and +she would be left alone.</p> + +<p>These were days of activity and excitement at the fur company's post, +the days of accounting, of profit and of pleasure;—the days when the +wilderness poured in its treasure of fur, to be sent a little later to +London and Paris and the capitals of Europe. And this year there was +more than the usual interest in the foregathering of the forest people. +The plague had wrought its terrible havoc, and not until the fur-hunters +had come to answer to the spring roll-call would it be known accurately +who had lived and who had died.</p> + +<p>The Chippewans and half-breeds from the south began to arrive first, +with their teams of mongrel curs, picked up along the borders of +civilization. Close after them came the hunters from the western barren +lands, bringing with them loads of white fox and caribou skins, and an +army of big-footed, long-legged Mackenzie hounds that pulled like horses +and wailed like whipped puppies when the huskies and Eskimo dogs set +upon them. Packs of fierce Labrador dogs, never vanquished except by +death, came from close to Hudson's Bay. Team after team of little yellow +and gray Eskimo dogs, as quick with their fangs as were their black and +swift-running masters with their hands and feet, met the much larger and +dark-colored Malemutes from the Athabasca. Enemies of all these packs of +fierce huskies trailed in from all sides, fighting, snapping and +snarling, with the lust of killing deep born in them from their wolf +progenitors.</p> + +<p>There was no cessation in the battle of the fangs. It began with the +first brute arrivals. It continued from dawn through the day and around +the camp-fires at night. There was never an end to the strife between +the dogs, and between the men and the dogs. The snow was trailed and +stained with blood and the scent of it added greater fierceness to the +wolf-breeds.</p> + +<p>Half a dozen battles were fought to the death each day and night. Those +that died were chiefly the south-bred curs—mixtures of mastiff, Great +Dane, and sheep-dog—and the fatally slow Mackenzie hounds. About the +post rose the smoke of a hundred camp-fires, and about these fires +gathered the women and the children of the hunters. When the snow was no +longer fit for sledging, Williams, the factor, noted that there were +many who had not come, and the accounts of these he later scratched out +of his ledgers knowing that they were victims of the plague.</p> + +<p>At last came the night of the Big Carnival, For weeks and months women +and children and men had been looking forward to this. In scores of +forest cabins, in smoke-blackened tepees, and even in the frozen homes +of the little Eskimos, anticipation of this wild night of pleasure had +given an added zest to life. It was the Big Circus—the good time given +twice each year by the company to its people.</p> + +<p>This year, to offset the memory of plague and death, the factor had put +forth unusual exertions. His hunters had killed four fat caribou. In the +clearing there were great piles of dry logs, and in the center of all +there rose eight ten-foot tree-butts crotched at the top; and from +crotch to crotch there rested a stout sapling stripped of bark, and on +each sapling was spitted the carcass of a caribou, to be roasted whole +by the heat of the fire beneath. The fires were lighted at dusk, and +Williams himself started the first of those wild songs of the +Northland—the song of the caribou, as the flames leaped up into the +dark night.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo,<br /> +He roas' on high,<br /> +Jes' under ze sky.<br /> +air-holes beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Now!" he yelled. "Now—all together!" And carried away by his +enthusiasm, the forest people awakened from their silence of months, +and the song burst forth in a savage frenzy that reached to the skies.</p> + +<hr width="25%" size="1" /> + +<p>Two miles to the south and west that first thunder of human voice +reached the ears of Kazan and Gray Wolf and the masterless huskies. And +with the voices of men they heard now the excited howlings of dogs. The +huskies faced the direction of the sounds, moving restlessly and +whining. For a few moments Kazan stood as though carven of rock. Then he +turned his head, and his first look was to Gray Wolf. She had slunk back +a dozen feet and lay crouched under the thick cover of a balsam shrub. +Her body, legs and neck were flattened in the snow. She made no sound, +but her lips were drawn back and her teeth shone white.</p> + +<p>Kazan trotted back to her, sniffed at her blind face and whined. Gray +Wolf still did not move. He returned to the dogs and his jaws opened and +closed with a snap. Still more clearly came the wild voice of the +carnival, and no longer to be held back by Kazan's leadership, the four +huskies dropped their heads and slunk like shadows in its direction. +Kazan hesitated, urging Gray Wolf. But not a muscle of Gray Wolf's body +moved. She would have followed him in face of fire but not in face of +man. Not a sound escaped her ears. She heard the quick fall of Kazan's +feet as he left her. In another moment she knew that he was gone. +Then—and not until then—did she lift her head, and from her soft +throat there broke a whimpering cry.</p> + +<p>It was her last call to Kazan. But stronger than that there was running +through Kazan's excited blood the call of man and of dog. The huskies +were far in advance of him now and for a few moments he raced madly to +overtake them. Then he slowed down until he was trotting, and a hundred +yards farther on he stopped. Less than a mile away he could see where +the flames of the great fires were reddening the sky. He gazed back to +see if Gray Wolf was following and then went on until he struck an open +and hard traveled trail. It was beaten with the footprints of men and +dogs, and over it two of the caribou had been dragged a day or two +before.</p> + +<p>At last he came to the thinned out strip of timber that surrounded the +clearing and the flare of the flames was in his eyes. The bedlam of +sound that came to him now was like fire in his brain. He heard the song +and the laughter of men, the shrill cries of women and children, the +barking and snarling and fighting of a hundred dogs. He wanted to rush +out and join them, to become again a part of what he had once been. Yard +by yard he sneaked through the thin timber until he reached the edge of +the clearing. There he stood in the shadow of a spruce and looked out +upon life as he had once lived it, trembling, wistful and yet hesitating +in that final moment.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards away was the savage circle of men and dogs and fire. His +nostrils were filled with the rich aroma of the roasting caribou, and as +he crouched down, still with that wolfish caution that Gray Wolf had +taught him, men with long poles brought the huge carcasses crashing down +upon the melting snow about the fires. In one great rush the horde of +wild revelers crowded in with bared knives, and a snarling mass of dogs +closed in behind them. In another moment he had forgotten Gray Wolf, had +forgotten all that man and the wild had taught him, and like a gray +streak was across the open.</p> + +<p>The dogs were surging back when he reached them, with half a dozen of +the factor's men lashing them in the faces with long caribou-gut whips. +The sting of a lash fell in a fierce cut over an Eskimo dog's shoulder, +and in snapping at the lash his fangs struck Kazan's rump. With +lightning swiftness Kazan returned the cut, and in an instant the jaws +of the dogs had met. In another instant they were down and Kazan had the +Eskimo dog by the throat.</p> + +<p>With shouts the men rushed in. Again and again their whips cut like +knives through the air. Their blows fell on Kazan, who was uppermost, +and as he felt the burning pain of the scourging whips there flooded +through him all at once the fierce memory of the days of old—the days +of the Club and the Lash. He snarled. Slowly he loosened his hold of the +Eskimo dog's throat. And then, out of the mêlée of dogs and men, there +sprang another man—<i>with a club</i>! It fell on Kazan's back and the force +of it sent him flat into the snow. It was raised again. Behind the club +there was a face—a brutal, fire-reddened face. It was such a face that +had driven Kazan into the wild, and as the club fell again he evaded the +full weight of its blow and his fangs gleamed like ivory knives. A third +time the club was raised, and this time Kazan met it in mid-air, and his +teeth ripped the length of the man's forearm.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" shrieked the man in pain, and Kazan caught the gleam of a +rifle barrel as he sped toward the forest. A shot followed. Something +like a red-hot coal ran the length of Kazan's hip, and deep in the +forest he stopped to lick at the burning furrow where the bullet had +gone just deep enough to take the skin and hair from his flesh.</p> + +<hr width="25%" size="1" /> + +<p>Gray Wolf was still waiting under the balsam shrub when Kazan returned +to her. Joyously she sprang forth to meet him. Once more the man had +sent back the old Kazan to her. He muzzled her neck and face, and stood +for a few moments with his head resting across her back, listening to +the distant sound.</p> + +<p>Then, with ears laid flat, he set out straight into the north and west. +And now Gray Wolf ran shoulder to shoulder with him like the Gray Wolf +of the days before the dog-pack came; for that wonderful thing that lay +beyond the realm of reason told her that once more she was comrade and +mate, and that their trail that night was leading to their old home +under the windfall.</p> + + + + +<a name="17"></a> +<h2>Chapter XVII</h2> + +<h3>His Son</h3> + +<p>It happened that Kazan was to remember three things above all others. He +could never quite forget his old days in the traces, though they were +growing more shadowy and indistinct in his memory as the summers and the +winters passed. Like a dream there came to him a memory of the time he +had gone down to Civilization. Like dreams were the visions that rose +before him now and then of the face of the First Woman, and of the faces +of masters who—to him—had lived ages ago. And never would he quite +forget the Fire, and his fights with man and beast, and his long chases +in the moonlight. But two things were always with him as if they had +been but yesterday, rising clear and unforgetable above all others, like +the two stars in the North that never lost their brilliance. One was +Woman. The other was the terrible fight of that night on the top of the +Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded forever his wild mate, Gray Wolf. +Certain events remain indelibly fixed in the minds of men; and so, in a +not very different way, they remain in the minds of beasts. It takes +neither brain nor reason to measure the depths of sorrow or of +happiness. And Kazan in his unreasoning way knew that contentment and +peace, a full stomach, and caresses and kind words instead of blows had +come to him through Woman, and that comradeship in the wilderness—faith, +loyalty and devotion—were a part of Gray Wolf. The third unforgetable +thing was about to occur in the home they had found for themselves under +the swamp windfall during the days of cold and famine.</p> + +<p>They had left the swamp over a month before when it was smothered deep +in snow. On the day they returned to it the sun was shining warmly in +the first glorious days of spring warmth. Everywhere, big and small, +there were the rushing torrents of melting snows and the crackle of +crumbling ice, the dying cries of thawing rock and earth and tree, and +each night for many nights past the cold pale glow of the aurora +borealis had crept farther and farther toward the Pole in fading glory. +So early as this the poplar buds had begun to swell and the air was +filled with the sweet odor of balsam, spruce and cedar. Where there had +been famine and death and stillness six weeks before, Kazan and Gray +Wolf now stood at the edge of the swamp and breathed the earthy smells +of spring, and listened to the sounds of life. Over their heads a pair +of newly-mated moose-birds fluttered and scolded at them. A big jay sat +pluming himself in the sunshine. Farther in they heard the crack of a +stick broken under a heavy hoof. From the ridge behind them they caught +the raw scent of a mother bear, busy pulling down the tender poplar buds +for her six-weeks-old cubs, born while she was still deep in her winter +sleep.</p> + +<p>In the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air there breathed to +Gray Wolf the mystery of matehood and of motherhood. She whined softly +and rubbed her blind face against Kazan. For days, in her way, she tried +to tell him. More than ever she wanted to curl herself up in that warm +dry nest under the windfall. She had no desire to hunt. The crack of +the dry stick under a cloven hoof and the warm scent of the she-bear and +her cubs roused none of the old instincts in her. She wanted to curl +herself up in the old windfall—and wait. And she tried hard to make +Kazan understand her desire.</p> + +<p>Now that the snow was gone they found that a narrow creek lay between +them and the knoll on which the windfall was situated. Gray Wolf picked +up her ears at the tumult of the little torrent. Since the day of the +Fire, when Kazan and she had saved themselves on the sand-bar, she had +ceased to have the inherent wolf horror of water. She followed +fearlessly, even eagerly, behind Kazan as he sought a place where they +could ford the rushing little stream. On the other side Kazan could see +the big windfall. Gray Wolf could <i>smell</i> it and she whined joyously, +with her blind face turned toward it. A hundred yards up the stream a +big cedar had fallen over it and Kazan began to cross. For a moment Gray +Wolf hesitated, and then followed. Side by side they trotted to the +windfall. With their heads and shoulders in the dark opening to their +nest they scented the air long and cautiously. Then they entered. Kazan +heard Gray Wolf as she flung herself down on the dry floor of the snug +cavern. She was panting, not from exhaustion, but because she was filled +with a sensation of contentment and happiness. In the darkness Kazan's +own jaws fell apart. He, too, was glad to get back to their old home. He +went to Gray Wolf and, panting still harder, she licked his face. It had +but one meaning. And Kazan understood.</p> + +<p>For a moment he lay down beside her, listening, and eyeing the opening +to their nest. Then he began to sniff about the log walls. He was close +to the opening when a sudden fresh scent came to him, and he grew rigid, +and his bristles stood up. The scent was followed by a whimpering, +babyish chatter. A porcupine entered the opening and proceeded to +advance in its foolish fashion, still chattering in that babyish way +that has made its life inviolable at the hands of man. Kazan had heard +that sound before, and like all other beasts had learned to ignore the +presence of the innocuous creature that made it. But just now he did not +stop to consider that what he saw was a porcupine and that at his first +snarl the good-humored little creature would waddle away as fast as it +could, still chattering baby talk to itself. His first reasoning was +that it was a live thing invading the home to which Gray Wolf and he had +just returned. A day later, or perhaps an hour later, he would have +driven it back with a growl. Now he leaped upon it.</p> + +<p>A wild chattering, intermingled with pig-like squeaks, and then a rising +staccato of howls followed the attack. Gray Wolf sprang to the opening. +The porcupine was rolled up in a thousand-spiked ball a dozen feet away, +and she could hear Kazan tearing about in the throes of the direst agony +that can befall a beast of the forests. His face and nose were a mat of +quills. For a few moments he rolled and dug in the wet mold and earth, +pawing madly at the things that pierced his flesh. Then he set off like +all dogs will who have come into contact with the friendly porcupine, +and raced again and again around the windfall, howling at every jump. +Gray Wolf took the matter coolly. It is possible that at times there are +moments of humor in the lives of animals. If so, she saw this one. She +scented the porcupine and she knew that Kazan was full of quills. As +there was nothing to do and nothing to fight she sat back on her +haunches and waited, pricking up her ears every time Kazan passed her in +his mad circuit around the windfall. At his fourth or fifth heat the +porcupine smoothed itself down a little, and continuing the interrupted +thread of its chatter waddled to a near-by poplar, climbed it and began +to gnaw the tender bark from a limb.</p> + +<p>At last Kazan halted before Gray Wolf. The first agony of a hundred +little needles piercing his flesh had deadened into a steady burning +pain. Gray Wolf went over to him and investigated him cautiously. With +her teeth she seized the ends of two or three of the quills and pulled +them out. Kazan was very much dog now. He gave a yelp, and whimpered as +Gray Wolf jerked out a second bunch of quills. Then he flattened himself +on his belly, stretched out his forelegs, closed his eyes, and without +any other sound except an occasional yelp of pain allowed Gray Wolf to +go on with the operation. Fortunately he had escaped getting any of the +quills in his mouth and tongue. But his nose and jaws were soon red +with blood. For an hour Gray Wolf kept faithfully at her task and by the +end of that time had succeeded in pulling out most of the quills. A few +still remained, too short and too deeply inbedded for her to extract +with her teeth.</p> + +<p>After this Kazan went down to the creek and buried his burning muzzle in +the cold water. This gave him some relief, but only for a short time. +The quills that remained worked their way deeper and deeper into his +flesh, like living things. Nose and lips began to swell. Blood and +saliva dripped from his mouth and his eyes grew red. Two hours after +Gray Wolf had retired to her nest under the windfall a quill had +completely pierced his lip and began to prick his tongue. In desperation +Kazan chewed viciously upon a piece of wood. This broke and crumpled the +quill, and destroyed its power to do further harm. Nature had told him +the one thing to do to save himself. Most of that day he spent in +gnawing at wood and crunching mouthfuls of earth and mold between his +jaws. In this way the barb-toothed points of the quills were dulled and +broken as they came through. At dusk he crawled under the windfall, and +Gray Wolf gently licked his muzzle with her soft cool tongue. Frequently +during the night Kazan went to the creek and found relief in its +ice-cold water.</p> + +<p>The next day he had what the forest people call "porcupine mumps." His +face was swollen until Gray Wolf would have laughed if she had been +human, and not blind. His chops bulged like cushions. His eyes were mere +slits. When he went out into the day he blinked, for he could see +scarcely better than his sightless mate. But the pain was mostly gone. +The night that followed he began to think of hunting, and the next +morning before it was yet dawn he brought a rabbit into their den. A few +hours later he would have brought a spruce partridge to Gray Wolf, but +just as he was about to spring upon his feathered prey the soft chatter +of a porcupine a few yards away brought him to a sudden stop. Few things +could make Kazan drop his tail. But that inane and incoherent prattle of +the little spiked beast sent him off at double-quick with his tail +between his legs. As man abhors and evades the creeping serpent, so +Kazan would hereafter evade this little creature of the forests that +never in animal history has been known to lose its good-humor or pick a +quarrel.</p> + +<p>Two weeks of lengthening days, of increasing warmth, of sunshine and +hunting, followed Kazan's adventure with the porcupine. The last of the +snow went rapidly. Out of the earth began to spring tips of green. The +<i>bakneesh</i> vine glistened redder each day, the poplar buds began to +split, and in the sunniest spots, between the rocks of the ridges the +little white snow-flowers began to give a final proof that spring had +come. For the first of those two weeks Gray Wolf hunted frequently with +Kazan. They did not go far. The swamp was alive with small game and each +day or night they killed fresh meat. After the first week Gray Wolf +hunted less. Then came the soft and balmy night, glorious in the +radiance of a full spring moon when she refused to leave the windfall. +Kazan did not urge her. Instinct made him understand, and he did not go +far from the windfall that night in his hunt. When he returned he +brought a rabbit.</p> + +<p>Came then the night when from the darkest corner of the windfall Gray +Wolf warned him back with a low snarl. He stood in the opening, a rabbit +between his jaws. He took no offense at the snarl, but stood for a +moment, gazing into the gloom where Gray Wolf had hidden herself. Then +he dropped the rabbit and lay down squarely in the opening. After a +little he rose restlessly and went outside. But he did not leave the +windfall. It was day when he reentered. He sniffed, as he had sniffed +once before a long time ago, between the boulders at the top of the Sun +Rock. That which was in the air was no longer a mystery to him. He came +nearer and Gray Wolf did not snarl. She whined coaxingly as he touched +her. Then his muzzle found something else. It was soft and warm and made +a queer little sniffling sound. There was a responsive whine in his +throat, and in the darkness came the quick soft caress of Gray Wolf's +tongue. Kazan returned to the sunshine and stretched himself out before +the door of the windfall. His jaws dropped open, for he was filled with +a strange contentment.</p> + + + + +<a name="18"></a> +<h2>Chapter XVIII</h2> + +<h3>The Education Of Ba-Ree</h3> + +<p>Robbed once of the joys of parenthood by the murder on the Sun Rock, +both Gray Wolf and Kazan were different from what they would have been +had the big gray lynx not come into their lives at that time. As if it +were but yesterday they remembered the moonlit night when the lynx +brought blindness to Gray Wolf and destroyed her young, and when Kazan +had avenged himself and his mate in his terrible fight to the death with +their enemy. And now, with that soft little handful of life snuggling +close up against her, Gray Wolf saw through her blind eyes the tragic +picture of that night more vividly than ever and she quivered at every +sound, ready to leap in the face of an unseen foe, to rend all flesh +that was not the flesh of Kazan. And ceaselessly, the slightest sound +bringing him to his feet, Kazan watched and guarded. He mistrusted the +moving shadows. The snapping of a twig drew back his upper lip. His +fangs gleamed menacingly when the soft air brought a strange scent. In +him, too, the memory of the Sun Rock, the death of their first young and +the blinding of Gray Wolf, had given birth to a new instinct. Not for an +instant was he off his guard. As surely as one expects the sun to rise +so did he expect that sooner or later their deadly enemy would creep on +them from out of the forest. In another hour such as this the lynx had +brought death. The lynx had brought blindness. And so day and night he +waited and watched for the lynx to come again. And woe unto any other +creature of flesh and blood that dared approach the windfall in these +first days of Gray Wolf's motherhood!</p> + +<p>But peace had spread its wings of sunshine and plenty over the swamp. +There were no intruders, unless the noisy whisky-jacks, the big-eyed +moose-birds, the chattering bush sparrows, and the wood-mice and ermine +could be called such. After the first day or two Kazan went more +frequently into the windfall, and though more than once he nosed +searchingly about Gray Wolf he could find only the one little pup. A +little farther west the Dog-Ribs would have called the pup Ba-ree for +two reasons—because he had no brothers or sisters, and because he was a +mixture of dog and wolf. He was a sleek and lively little fellow from +the beginning, for there was no division of mother strength and +attention. He developed with the true swiftness of the wolf-whelp, and +not with the slowness of the dog-pup.</p> + +<p>For three days he was satisfied to cuddle close against his mother, +feeding when he was hungry, sleeping a great deal and preened and +laundered almost constantly by Gray Wolf's affectionate tongue. From the +fourth day he grew busier and more inquisitive with every hour. He found +his mother's blind face, with tremendous effort he tumbled over her +paws, and once he lost himself completely and sniffled for help when he +rolled fifteen or eighteen inches away from her. It was not long after +this that he began to recognize Kazan as a part of his mother, and he +was scarcely more than a week old when he rolled himself up contentedly +between Kazan's forelegs and went to sleep. Kazan was puzzled. Then +with a deep sigh Gray Wolf laid her head across one of her mate's +forelegs, with her nose touching her runaway baby, and seemed vastly +contented. For half an hour Kazan did not move.</p> + +<p>When he was ten days old Ba-ree discovered there was great sport in +tussling with a bit of rabbit fur. It was a little later when he made +his second exciting discovery—light and sunshine. The sun had now +reached a point where in the middle of the afternoon a bright gleam of +it found its way through an overhead opening in the windfall. At first +Ba-ree would only stare at the golden streak. Then came the time when he +tried to play with it as he played with the rabbit fur. Each day +thereafter he went a little nearer the opening through which Kazan +passed from the windfall into the big world outside. Finally came the +time when he reached the opening and crouched there, blinking and +frightened at what he saw, and now Gray Wolf no longer tried to hold him +back but went out into the sunshine and tried to call him to her. It was +three days before his weak eyes had grown strong enough to permit his +following her, and very quickly after that Ba-ree learned to love the +sun, the warm air, and the sweetness of life, and to dread the darkness +of the closed-in den where he had been born.</p> + +<p>That this world was not altogether so nice as it at first appeared he +was very soon to learn. At the darkening signs of an approaching storm +one day Gray Wolf tried to lure him back under the windfall. It was her +first warning to Ba-ree and he did not understand. Where Gray Wolf +failed, nature came to teach a first lesson. Ba-ree was caught in a +sudden deluge of rain. It flattened him out in pure terror and he was +drenched and half drowned before Gray Wolf caught him between her jaws +and carried him into shelter. One by one after this the first strange +experiences of life came to him, and one by one his instincts received +their birth. Greatest for him of the days to follow was that on which +his inquisitive nose touched the raw flesh of a freshly killed and +bleeding rabbit. It was his first taste of blood. It was sweet. It +filled him with a strange excitement and thereafter he knew what it +meant when Kazan brought in something between his jaws. He soon began +to battle with sticks in place of the soft fur and his teeth grew as +hard and as sharp as little needles.</p> + +<p>The Great Mystery was bared to him at last when Kazan brought in between +his jaws, a big rabbit that was still alive but so badly crushed that it +could not run when dropped to the ground. Ba-ree had learned to know +what rabbits and partridges meant—the sweet warm blood that he loved +better even than he had ever loved his mother's milk. But they had come +to him dead. He had never seen one of the monsters alive. And now the +rabbit that Kazan dropped to the ground, kicking and struggling with a +broken back, sent Ba-ree back appalled. For a few moments he wonderingly +watched the dying throes of Kazan's prey. Both Kazan and Gray Wolf +seemed to understand that this was to be Ba-ree's first lesson in his +education as a slaying and flesh-eating creature, and they stood close +over the rabbit, making no effort to end its struggles. Half a dozen +times Gray Wolf sniffed at the rabbit and then turned her blind face +toward Ba-ree. After the third or fourth time Kazan stretched himself +out on his belly a few feet away and watched the proceedings +attentively. Each time that Gray Wolf lowered her head to muzzle the +rabbit Ba-ree's little ears shot up expectantly. When he saw that +nothing happened and that his mother was not hurt he came a little +nearer. Soon he could reach out, stiff-legged and cautious, and touch +the furry thing that was not yet dead.</p> + +<p>In a last spasmodic convulsion the big rabbit doubled up its rear legs +and gave a kick that sent Ba-ree sprawling back, yelping in terror. He +regained his feet and then, for the first time, anger and the desire to +retaliate took possession of him. The kick had completed his first +education. He came back with less caution, but stiffer-legged, and a +moment later had dug his tiny teeth in the rabbit's neck. He could feel +the throb of life in the soft body, the muscles of the dying rabbit +twitched convulsively under him, and he hung with his teeth until there +was no longer a tremor of life in his first kill. Gray Wolf was +delighted. She caressed Ba-ree with her tongue, and even Kazan +condescended to sniff approvingly of his son when he returned to the +rabbit. And never before had warm sweet blood tasted so good to Ba-ree +as it did to-day.</p> + +<p>Swiftly Ba-ree developed from a blood-tasting into a flesh-eating +animal. One by one the mysteries of life were unfolded to him—the +mating-night chortle of the gray owl, the crash of a falling tree, the +roll of thunder, the rush of running water, the scream of a fisher-cat, +the mooing of the cow moose, and the distant call of his tribe. But +chief of all these mysteries that were already becoming a part of his +instinct was the mystery of scent. One day he wandered fifty yards away +from the windfall and his little nose touched the warm scent of a +rabbit. Instantly, without reasoning or further process of education, he +knew that to get at the sweet flesh and blood which he loved he must +follow the scent. He wriggled slowly along the trail until he came to a +big log, over which the rabbit had vaulted in a long leap, and from this +log he turned back. Each day after this he went on adventures of his +own. At first he was like an explorer without a compass in a vast and +unknown world. Each day he encountered something new, always wonderful, +frequently terrifying. But his terrors grew less and less and his +confidence correspondingly greater. As he found that none of the things +he feared did him any harm he became more and more bold in his +investigations. And his appearance was changing, as well as his view of +things. His round roly-poly body was taking a different form. He became +lithe and quick. The yellow of his coat darkened, and there was a +whitish-gray streak along his back like that along Kazan's. He had his +mother's under-throat and her beautiful grace of head. Otherwise he was +a true son of Kazan. His limbs gave signs of future strength and +massiveness. He was broad across the chest. His eyes were wide apart, +with a little red in the lower corners. The forest people know what to +expect of husky pups who early develop that drop of red. It is a warning +that they are born of the wild and that their mothers, or fathers, are +of the savage hunt-packs. In Ba-ree that tinge of red was so pronounced +that it could mean but one thing. While he was almost half dog, the wild +had claimed him forever.</p> + +<p>Not until the day of his first real battle with a living creature did +Ba-ree come fully into his inheritance. He had gone farther than usual +from the windfall—fully a hundred yards. Here he found a new wonder. It +was the creek. He had heard it before and he had looked down on it from +afar—from a distance of fifty yards at least. But to-day he ventured +going to the edge of it, and there he stood for a long time, with the +water rippling and singing at his feet, gazing across it into the new +world that he saw. Then he moved cautiously along the stream. He had not +gone a dozen steps when there was a furious fluttering close to him, and +one of the fierce big-eyed jays of the Northland was directly in his +path. It could not fly. One of its wings dragged, probably broken in a +struggle with some one of the smaller preying beasts. But for an instant +it was a most startling and defiant bit of life to Ba-ree.</p> + +<p>Then the grayish crest along his back stiffened and he advanced. The +wounded jay remained motionless until Ba-ree was within three feet of +it. In short quick hops it began to retreat. Instantly Ba-ree's +indecision had flown to the four winds. With one sharp excited yelp he +flew at the defiant bird. For a few moments there was a thrilling race, +and Ba-ree's sharp little teeth buried themselves in the jay's feathers. +Swift as a flash the bird's beak began to strike. The jay was the king +of the smaller birds. In nesting season it killed the brush sparrows, +the mild-eyed moose-birds, and the tree-sappers. Again and again it +struck Ba-ree with its powerful beak, but the son of Kazan had now +reached the age of battle and the pain of the blows only made his own +teeth sink deeper. At last he found the flesh; and a puppyish snarl rose +in his throat. Fortunately he had gained a hold under the wing and after +the first dozen blows the jay's resistance grew weaker. Five minutes +later Ba-ree loosened his teeth and drew back a step to look at the +crumpled and motionless creature before him. The jay was dead. He had +won his first battle. And with victory came the wonderful dawning of +that greatest instinct of all, which told him that no longer was he a +drone in the marvelous mechanism of wilderness life—but a part of it +from this time forth. <i>For he had killed</i>.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later Gray Wolf came down over his trail. The jay was torn +into bits. Its feathers were scattered about and Ba-ree's little nose +was bloody. Ba-ree was lying in triumph beside his victim. Swiftly Gray +Wolf understood and caressed him joyously. When they returned to the +windfall Ba-ree carried in his jaws what was left of the jay.</p> + +<p>From that hour of his first kill hunting became the chief passion of +Ba-ree's life. When he was not sleeping in the sun, or under the +windfall at night, he was seeking life that he could destroy. He +slaughtered an entire family of wood-mice. Moose-birds were at first the +easiest for him to stalk, and he killed three. Then he encountered an +ermine and the fierce little white outlaw of the forests gave him his +first defeat. Defeat cooled his ardor for a few days, but taught him the +great lesson that there were other fanged and flesh-eating animals +besides himself and that nature had so schemed things that fang must not +prey upon fang—<i>for food</i>. Many things had been born in him. +Instinctively he shunned the porcupine without experiencing the torture +of its quills. He came face to face with a fisher-cat one day, a +fortnight after his fight with the ermine. Both were seeking food, and +as there was no food between them to fight over, each went his own way.</p> + +<p>Farther and farther Ba-ree ventured from the windfall, always following +the creek. Sometimes he was gone for hours. At first Gray Wolf was +restless when he was away, but she seldom went with him and after a time +her restlessness left her. Nature was working swiftly. It was Kazan who +was restless now. Moonlight nights had come and the wanderlust was +growing more and more insistent in his veins. And Gray Wolf, too, was +filled with the strange longing to roam at large out into the big world.</p> + +<p>Came then the afternoon when Ba-ree went on his longest hunt. Half a +mile away he killed his first rabbit. He remained beside it until dusk. +The moon rose, big and golden, flooding the forests and plains and +ridges with a light almost like that of day. It was a glorious night. +And Ba-ree found the moon, and left his kill. And the direction in +which he traveled <i>was away from the windfall</i>.</p> + +<p>All that night Gray Wolf watched and waited. And when at last the moon +was sinking into the south and west she settled back on her haunches, +turned her blind face to the sky and sent forth her first howl since the +day Ba-ree was born. Nature had come into her own. Far away Ba-ree +heard, but he did not answer. A new world was his. He had said good-by +to the windfall—and home.</p> + + + + +<a name="19"></a> +<h2>Chapter XIX</h2> + +<h3>The Usurpers</h3> + +<p>It was that glorious season between spring and summer, when the northern +nights were brilliant with moon and stars, that Kazan and Gray Wolf set +up the valley between the two ridges on a long hunt. It was the +beginning of that <i>wanderlust</i> which always comes to the furred and +padded creatures of the wilderness immediately after the young-born of +early spring have left their mothers to find their own way in the big +world. They struck west from their winter home under the windfall in the +swamp. They hunted mostly at night and behind them they left a trail +marked by the partly eaten carcasses of rabbits and partridges. It was +the season of slaughter and not of hunger. Ten miles west of the swamp +they killed a fawn. This, too, they left after a single meal. Their +appetites became satiated with warm flesh and blood. They grew sleek and +fat and each day they basked longer in the warm sunshine. They had few +rivals. The lynxes were in the heavier timber to the south. There were +no wolves. Fisher-cat, marten and mink were numerous along the creek, +but these were neither swift-hunting nor long-fanged. One day they came +upon an old otter. He was a giant of his kind, turning a whitish gray +with the approach of summer. Kazan, grown fat and lazy, watched him +idly. Blind Gray Wolf sniffed at the fishy smell of him in the air. To +them he was no more than a floating stick, a creature out of their +element, along with the fish, and they continued on their way not +knowing that this uncanny creature with the coal-like flappers was soon +to become their ally in one of the strange and deadly feuds of the +wilderness, which are as sanguinary to animal life as the deadliest +feuds of men are to human life.</p> + +<p>The day following their meeting with the otter Gray Wolf and Kazan +continued three miles farther westward, still following the stream. Here +they encountered the interruption to their progress which turned them +over the northward ridge. The obstacle was a huge beaver dam. The dam +was two hundred yards in width and flooded a mile of swamp and timber +above it. Neither Gray Wolf nor Kazan was deeply interested in beavers. +They also moved out of their element, along with the fish and the otter +and swift-winged birds.</p> + +<p>So they turned into the north, not knowing that nature had already +schemed that they four—the dog, wolf, otter and beaver—should soon be +engaged in one of those merciless struggles of the wild which keep +animal life down to the survival of the fittest, and whose tragic +histories are kept secret under the stars and the moon and the winds +that tell no tales.</p> + +<p>For many years no man had come into this valley between the two ridges +to molest the beaver. If a Sarcee trapper had followed down the nameless +creek and had caught the patriarch and chief of the colony, he would at +once have judged him to be very old and his Indian tongue would have +given him a name. He would have called him Broken Tooth, because one of +the four long teeth with which he felled trees and built dams was broken +off. Six years before Broken Tooth had led a few beavers of his own age +down the stream, and they had built their first small dam and their +first lodge. The following April Broken Tooth's mate had four little +baby beavers, and each of the other mothers in the colony increased the +population by two or three or four. At the end of the fourth year this +first generation of children, had they followed the usual law of nature, +would have mated and left the colony to build a dam and lodges of their +own. They mated, but did not emigrate.</p> + +<p>The next year the second generation of children, now four years old, +mated but did not leave, so that in this early summer of the sixth year +the colony was very much like a great city that had been long besieged +by an enemy. It numbered fifteen lodges and over a hundred beavers, not +counting the fourth babies which had been born during March and April. +The dam had been lengthened until it was fully two hundred yards in +length. Water had been made to flood large areas of birch and poplar and +tangled swamps of tender willow and elder. Even with this food was +growing scarce and the lodges were overcrowded. This was because +beavers are almost human in their love for home. Broken Tooth's lodge +was fully nine feet long by seven wide inside, and there were now living +in it children and grandchildren to the number of twenty-seven. For this +reason Broken Tooth was preparing to break the precedent of his tribe. +When Kazan and Gray Wolf sniffed carelessly at the strong scents of the +beaver city, Broken Tooth was marshaling his family, and two of his sons +and their families, for the exodus.</p> + +<p>As yet Broken Tooth was the recognized leader in the colony. No other +beaver had grown to his size and strength. His thick body was fully +three feet long. He weighed at least sixty pounds. His tail was fourteen +inches in length and five in width, and on a still night he could strike +the water a blow that could be heard a quarter of a mile away. His +webbed hindfeet were twice as large as his mate's and he was easily the +swiftest swimmer in the colony.</p> + +<p>Following the afternoon when Gray Wolf and Kazan struck into the north +came the clear still night when Broken Tooth climbed to the top of the +dam, shook himself, and looked down to see that his army was behind +him. The starlit water of the big pond rippled and flashed with the +movement of many bodies. A few of the older beavers clambered up after +Broken Tooth and the old patriarch plunged down into the narrow stream +on the other side of the dam. Now the shining silken bodies of the +emigrants followed him in the starlight. In ones and twos and threes +they climbed over the dam and with them went a dozen children born three +months before. Easily and swiftly they began the journey down-stream, +the youngsters swimming furiously to keep up with their parents. In all +they numbered forty. Broken Tooth swam well in the lead, with his older +workers and battlers behind him. In the rear followed mothers and +children.</p> + +<p>All of that night the journey continued. The otter, their deadliest +enemy—deadlier even than man—hid himself in a thick clump of willows +as they passed. Nature, which sometimes sees beyond the vision of man, +had made him the enemy of these creatures that were passing his +hiding-place in the night. A fish-feeder, he was born to be a conserver +as well as a destroyer of the creatures on which he fed. Perhaps nature +told him that too many beaver dams stopped the run of spawning fish and +that where there were many beavers there were always few fish. Maybe he +reasoned as to why fish-hunting was poor and he went hungry. So, unable +to cope singly with whole tribes of his enemies, he worked to destroy +their dams. How this, in turn, destroyed the beavers will be seen in the +feud in which nature had already schemed that he should play a part with +Kazan and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>A dozen times during this night Broken Tooth halted to investigate the +food supplies along the banks. But in the two or three places where he +found plenty of the bark on which they lived it would have been +difficult to have constructed a dam. His wonderful engineering instincts +rose even above food instincts. And when each time he moved onward, no +beaver questioned his judgment by remaining behind. In the early dawn +they crossed the burn and came to the edge of the swamp domain of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. By right of discovery and possession that swamp belonged +to the dog and the wolf. In every part of it they had left their mark of +ownership. But Broken Tooth was a creature of the water and the scent of +his tribe was not keen. He led on, traveling more slowly when they +entered the timber. Just below the windfall home of Kazan and Gray Wolf +he halted, and clambering ashore balanced himself upright on his webbed +hindfeet and broad four-pound tail. Here he had found ideal conditions. +A dam could be constructed easily across the narrow stream, and the +water could be made to flood a big supply of poplar, birch, willow and +alder. Also the place was sheltered by heavy timber, so that the winters +would be warm. Broken Tooth quickly gave his followers to understand +that this was to be their new home. On both sides of the stream they +swarmed into the near-by timber. The babies began at once to nibble +hungrily at the tender bark of willow and alder. The older ones, every +one of them now a working engineer, investigated excitedly, breakfasting +by nibbling off a mouthful of bark now and then.</p> + +<p>That day the work of home-building began. Broken Tooth himself selected +a big birch that leaned over the stream, and began the work of cutting +through the ten-inch butt with his three long teeth. Though the old +patriarch had lost one tooth, the three that remained had not +deteriorated with age. The outer edge of them was formed of the hardest +enamel; the inner side was of soft ivory. They were like the finest +steel chisels, the enamel never wearing away and the softer ivory +replacing itself year by year as it was consumed. Sitting on his +hindlegs, with his forepaws resting against the tree and with his heavy +tail giving him a firm balance, Broken Tooth began gnawing a narrow ring +entirely around the tree. He worked tirelessly for several hours, and +when at last he stopped to rest another workman took up the task. +Meanwhile a dozen beavers were hard at work cutting timber. Long before +Broken Tooth's tree was ready to fall across the stream, a smaller +poplar crashed into the water. The cutting on the big birch was in the +shape of an hour-glass. In twenty hours it fell straight across the +creek. While the beaver prefers to do most of his work at night he is a +day-laborer as well, and Broken Tooth gave his tribe but little rest +during the days that followed. With almost human intelligence the little +engineers kept at their task. Smaller trees were felled, and these were +cut into four or five foot lengths. One by one these lengths were rolled +to the stream, the beavers pushing them with their heads and forepaws, +and by means of brush and small limbs they were fastened securely +against the birch. When the framework was completed the wonderful cement +construction was begun. In this the beavers were the masters of men. +Dynamite was the only force that could hereafter break up what they were +building now. Under their cup-like chins the beavers brought from the +banks a mixture of mud and fine twigs, carrying from half a pound to a +pound at a load and began filling up the framework with it. Their task +seemed tremendous, and yet Broken Tooth's engineers could carry a ton of +this mud and twig mixture during a day and night. In three days the +water was beginning to back, until it rose about the butts of a dozen or +more trees and was flooding a small area of brush. This made work +easier. From now on materials could be cut in the water and easily +floated. While a part of the beaver colony was taking advantage of the +water, others were felling trees end to end with the birch, laying the +working frame of a dam a hundred feet in width.</p> + +<p>They had nearly accomplished this work when one morning Kazan and Gray +Wolf returned to the swamp.</p> + + + + +<a name="20"></a> +<h2>Chapter XX</h2> + +<h3>A Feud In The Wilderness</h3> + +<p>A soft wind blowing from the south and east brought the scent of the +invaders to Gray Wolf's nose when they were still half a mile away. She +gave the warning to Kazan and he, too, found the strange scent in the +air. It grew stronger as they advanced. When two hundred yards from the +windfall they heard the sudden crash of a falling tree, and stopped. For +a full minute they stood tense and listening. Then the silence was +broken by a squeaking cry, followed by a splash. Gray Wolf's alert ears +fell back and she turned her blind face understandingly toward Kazan. +They trotted ahead slowly, approaching the windfall from behind. Not +until they had reached the top of the knoll on which it was situated did +Kazan begin to see the wonderful change that had taken place during +their absence. Astounded, they stood while he stared. There was no +longer a little creek below them. Where it had been was a pond that +reached almost to the foot of the knoll. It was fully a hundred feet in +width and the backwater had flooded the trees and bush for five or six +times that distance toward the burn. They had come up quietly and Broken +Tooth's dull-scented workers were unaware of their presence. Not fifty +feet away Broken Tooth himself was gnawing at the butt of a tree. An +equal distance to the right of him four or five of the baby beavers were +at play building a miniature dam of mud and tiny twigs. On the opposite +side of the pond was a steep bank six or seven feet high, and here a few +of the older children—two years old, but still not workmen—were having +great fun climbing the bank and using it as a toboggan-slide. It was +their splashing that Kazan and Gray Wolf had heard. In a dozen different +places the older beavers were at work.</p> + +<p>A few weeks before Kazan had looked upon a similar scene when he had +returned into the north from Broken Tooth's old home. It had not +interested him then. But a quick and thrilling change swept through him +now. The beavers had ceased to be mere water animals, uneatable and +with an odor that displeased him. They were invaders—and enemies. His +fangs bared silently. His crest stiffened like the hair of a brush, and +the muscles of his forelegs and shoulders stood out like whipcords. Not +a sound came from him as he rushed down upon Broken Tooth. The old +beaver was oblivious of danger until Kazan was within twenty feet of +him. Naturally slow of movement on land, he stood for an instant +stupefied. Then he swung down from the tree as Kazan leaped upon him. +Over and over they rolled to the edge of the bank, carried on by the +dog's momentum. In another moment the thick heavy body of the beaver had +slipped like oil from under Kazan and Broken Tooth was safe in his +element, two holes bitten clean through his fleshy tail. Baffled in his +effort to get a death-hold on Broken Tooth, Kazan swung like a flash to +the right. The young beavers had not moved. Astonished and frightened at +what they had seen, they stood as if stupefied. Not until they saw Kazan +tearing toward them did they awaken to action. Three of them reached the +water. The fourth and fifth—baby beavers not more than three months +old—were too late. With a single snap of his jaw Kazan broke the hack +of one. The other he pinned down by the throat and shook as a terrier +shakes a rat. When Gray Wolf trotted down to him both of the little +beavers were dead. She sniffed at their soft little bodies and whined. +Perhaps the baby creatures reminded her of runaway Ba-ree, her own baby, +for there was a note of longing in her whine as she nosed them. It was +the mother whine.</p> + +<p>But if Gray Wolf had visions of her own Kazan understood nothing of +them. He had killed two of the creatures that had dared to invade their +home. To the little beavers he had been as merciless as the gray lynx +that had murdered Gray Wolf's first children on the top of the Sun Rock. +Now that he had sunk his teeth into the flesh of his enemies his blood +was filled with a frenzied desire to kill. He raved along the edge of +the pond, snarling at the uneasy water under which Broken Tooth had +disappeared. All of the beavers had taken refuge in the pond, and its +surface was heaving with the passing of many bodies beneath. Kazan came +to the end of the dam. This was new. Instinctively he knew that it was +the work of Broken Tooth and his tribe and for a few moments he tore +fiercely at the matted sticks and limbs. Suddenly there was an upheaval +of water close to the dam, fifty feet out from the bank, and Broken +Tooth's big gray head appeared. For a tense half minute Broken Tooth and +Kazan measured each other at that distance. Then Broken Tooth drew his +wet shining body out of the water to the top of the dam, and squatted +flat, facing Kazan. The old patriarch was alone. Not another beaver had +shown himself.</p> + +<p>The surface of the pond had now become quiet. Vainly Kazan tried to +discover a footing that would allow him to reach the watchful invader. +But between the solid wall of the dam and the bank there was a tangled +framework through which the water rushed with some violence. Three times +Kazan fought to work his way through that tangle, and three times his +efforts ended in sudden plunges into the water. All this time Broken +Tooth did not move. When at last Kazan gave up the attack the old +engineer slipped over the edge of the dam and disappeared under the +water. He had learned that Kazan, like the lynx, could not fight water +and he spread the news among the members of his colony.</p> + +<p>Gray Wolf and Kazan returned to the windfall and lay down in the warm +sun. Half an hour later Broken Tooth drew himself out on the opposite +shore of the pond. He was followed by other beavers. Across the water +they resumed their work as if nothing had happened. The tree-cutters +returned to their trees. Half a dozen worked in the water, carrying +loads of cement and twigs. The middle of the pond was their dead-line. +Across this not one of them passed. A dozen times during the hour that +followed one of the beavers swam up to the dead-line, and rested there, +looking at the shining little bodies of the babies that Kazan had +killed. Perhaps it was the mother, and perhaps some finer instinct +unknown to Kazan told this to Gray Wolf. For Gray Wolf went down twice +to sniff at the dead bodies, and each time—without seeing—she went +when the mother beaver had come to the dead-line.</p> + +<p>The first fierce animus had worn itself from Kazan's blood, and he now +watched the beavers closely. He had learned that they were not fighters. +They were many to one and yet they ran from him like a lot of rabbits. +Broken Tooth had not even struck at him, and slowly it grew upon him +that these invading creatures that used both the water and land would +have to be hunted as he stalked the rabbit and the partridge. Early in +the afternoon he slipped off into the bush, followed by Gray Wolf. He +had often begun the stalking of a rabbit by moving <i>away</i> from it and he +employed this wolf trick now with the beavers. Beyond the windfall he +turned and began trotting up the creek, with the wind. For a quarter of +a mile the creek was deeper than it had ever been. One of their old +fording places was completely submerged, and at last Kazan plunged in +and swam across, leaving Gray Wolf to wait for him on the windfall side +of the stream.</p> + +<p>Alone he made his way quickly in the direction of the dam, traveling two +hundred yards back from the creek. Twenty yards below the dam a dense +thicket of alder and willow grew close to the creek and Kazan took +advantage of this. He approached within a leap or two of the dam without +being seen and crouched close to the ground, ready to spring forth when +the opportunity came. Most of the beavers were now working in the water. +The four or five still on shore were close to the water and some +distance up-stream. After a wait of several minutes Kazan was almost on +the point of staking everything on a wild rush upon his enemies when a +movement on the dam attracted his attention. Half-way out two or three +beavers were at work strengthening the central structure with cement. +Swift as a flash Kazan darted from his cover to the shelter behind the +dam. Here the water was very shallow, the main portion of the stream +finding a passage close to the opposite shore. Nowhere did it reach to +his belly as he waded out. He was completely hidden from the beavers, +and the wind was in his favor. The noise of running water drowned what +little sound he made. Soon he heard the beaver workmen over him. The +branches of the fallen birch gave him a footing, and he clambered up.</p> + +<p>A moment later his head and shoulders appeared above the top of the +dam. Scarce an arm's length away Broken Tooth was forcing into place a +three-foot length of poplar as big around as a man's arm. He was so busy +that he did not hear or see Kazan. Another beaver gave the warning as he +plunged into the pond. Broken Tooth looked up, and his eyes met Kazan's +bared fangs. There was no time to turn. He threw himself back, but it +was a moment too late. Kazan was upon him. His long fangs sank deep into +Broken Tooth's neck. But the old beaver had thrown himself enough back +to make Kazan lose his footing. At the same moment his chisel-like teeth +got a firm hold of the loose skin at Kazan's throat. Thus clinched, with +Kazan's long teeth buried almost to the beaver's jugular, they plunged +down into the deep water of the pond.</p> + +<p>Broken Tooth weighed sixty pounds. The instant he struck the water he +was in his element, and holding tenaciously to the grip he had obtained +on Kazan's neck he sank like a chunk of iron. Kazan was pulled +completely under. The water rushed into his mouth, his ears, eyes and +nose. He was blinded, and his senses were a roaring tumult. But instead +of struggling to free himself he held his breath and buried his teeth +deeper. They touched the soft bottom and for a moment floundered in the +mud. Then Kazan loosened his hold. He was fighting for his own life +now—and not for Broken Tooth's. With all of the strength of his +powerful limbs he struggled to break loose—to rise to the surface, to +fresh air, to life. He clamped his jaws shut, knowing that to breathe +was to die. On land he could have freed himself from Broken Tooth's hold +without an effort. But under water the old beaver's grip was more deadly +than would have been the fangs of a lynx ashore. There was a sudden +swirl of water as a second beaver circled close about the struggling +pair. Had he closed in with Broken Tooth, Kazan's struggles would +quickly have ceased.</p> + +<p>But nature had not foreseen the day when Broken Tooth would be fighting +with fang. The old patriarch had no particular reason now for holding +Kazan down. He was not vengeful. He did not thirst for blood or death. +Finding that he was free, and that this strange enemy that had twice +leaped upon him could do him no harm, he loosed his hold. It was not a +moment too soon for Kazan. He was struggling weakly when he rose to the +surface of the water. Three-quarters drowned, he succeeded in raising +his forepaws over a slender branch that projected from the dam. This +gave him time to fill his lungs with air, and to cough forth the water +that had almost ended his existence. For ten minutes he clung to the +branch before he dared attempt the short swim ashore. When he reached +the bank he dragged himself up weakly. All the strength was gone from +his body. His limbs shook. His jaws hung loose. He was beaten—completely +beaten. And a creature without a fang had worsted him. He felt the +abasement of it. Drenched and slinking, he went to the windfall, lay +down in the sun, and waited for Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Days followed in which Kazan's desire to destroy his beaver enemies +became the consuming passion of his life. Each day the dam became more +formidable. Cement work in the water was carried on by the beavers +swiftly and safely. The water in the pond rose higher each twenty-four +hours, and the pond grew steadily wider. The water had now been turned +into the depression that encircled the windfall, and in another week or +two, if the beavers continued their work, Kazan's and Gray Wolf's home +would be nothing more than a small island in the center of a wide area +of submerged swamp.</p> + +<p>Kazan hunted only for food now, and not for pleasure. Ceaselessly he +watched his opportunity to leap upon incautious members of Broken +Tooth's tribe. The third day after the struggle under the water he +killed a big beaver that approached too close to the willow thicket. The +fifth day two of the young beavers wandered into the flooded depression +back of the windfall and Kazan caught them in shallow water and tore +them into pieces. After these successful assaults the beavers began to +work mostly at night. This was to Kazan's advantage, for he was a +night-hunter. On each of two consecutive nights he killed a beaver. +Counting the young, he had killed seven when the otter came.</p> + +<p>Never had Broken Tooth been placed between two deadlier or more +ferocious enemies than the two that now assailed him. On shore Kazan +was his master because of his swiftness, keener scent, and fighting +trickery. In the water the otter was a still greater menace. He was +swifter than the fish that he caught for food. His teeth were like steel +needles. He was so sleek and slippery that it would have been impossible +for them to hold him with their chisel-like teeth could they have caught +him. The otter, like the beaver, possessed no hunger for blood. Yet in +all the Northland he was the greatest destroyer of their kind—an even +greater destroyer than man. He came and passed like a plague, and it was +in the coldest days of winter that greatest destruction came with him. +In those days he did not assault the beavers in their snug houses. He +did what man could do only with dynamite—made an embrasure through +their dam. Swiftly the water would fall, the surface ice would crash +down, and the beaver houses would be left out of water. Then followed +death for the beavers—starvation and cold. With the protecting water +gone from about their houses, the drained pond a chaotic mass of broken +ice, and the temperature forty or fifty degrees below zero, they would +die within a few hours. For the beaver, with his thick coat of fur, can +stand less cold than man. Through all the long winter the water about +his home is as necessary to him as fire to a child.</p> + +<p>But it was summer now and Broken Tooth and his colony had no very great +fear of the otter. It would cost them some labor to repair the damage he +did, but there was plenty of food and it was warm. For two days the +otter frisked about the dam and the deep water of the pond. Kazan took +him for a beaver, and tried vainly to stalk him. The otter regarded +Kazan suspiciously and kept well out of his way. Neither knew that the +other was an ally. Meanwhile the beavers continued their work with +greater caution. The water in the pond had now risen to a point where +the engineers had begun the construction of three lodges. On the third +day the destructive instinct of the otter began its work. He began to +examine the dam, close down to the foundation. It was not long before he +found a weak spot to begin work on, and with his sharp teeth and small +bullet-like head he commenced his drilling operations. Inch by inch he +worked his way through the dam, burrowing and gnawing over and under the +timbers, and always through the cement. The round hole he made was fully +seven inches in diameter. In six hours he had cut it through the +five-foot base of the dam.</p> + +<p>A torrent of water began to rush from the pond as if forced out by a +hydraulic pump. Kazan and Gray Wolf were hiding in the willows on the +south side of the pond when this happened. They heard the roar of the +stream tearing through the embrasure and Kazan saw the otter crawl up to +the top of the dam and shake himself like a huge water-rat. Within +thirty minutes the water in the pond had fallen perceptibly, and the +force of the water pouring through the hole was constantly increasing +the outlet. In another half hour the foundations of the three lodges, +which had been laid in about ten inches of water, stood on mud. Not +until Broken Tooth discovered that the water was receding from the +houses did he take alarm. He was thrown into a panic, and very soon +every beaver in the colony tearing excitedly about the pond. They swam +swiftly from shore to shore, paying no attention to the dead-line now. +Broken Tooth and the older workmen made for the dam, and with a snarling +cry the otter plunged down among them and out like a flash for the creek +above the pond. Swiftly the water continued to fall and as it fell the +excitement of the beavers increased. They forgot Kazan and Gray Wolf.</p> + +<p>Several of the younger members of the colony drew themselves ashore on +the windfall side of the pond, and whining softly Kazan was about to +slip back through the willows when one of the older beavers waddled up +through the deepening mud close on his ambush. In two leaps Kazan was +upon him, with Gray Wolf a leap behind him. The short fierce struggle in +the mud was seen by the other beavers and they crossed swiftly to the +opposite side of the pond. The water had receded to a half of its +greatest width before Broken Tooth and his workmen discovered the breach +in the wall of the dam. The work of repair was begun at once. For this +work sticks and brush of considerable size were necessary, and to reach +this material the beavers were compelled to drag their heavy bodies +through the ten or fifteen yards of soft mud left by the falling water. +Peril of fang no longer kept them back. Instinct told them that they +were fighting for their existence—that if the embrasure were not filled +up and the water kept in the pond they would very soon be completely +exposed to their enemies. It was a day of slaughter for Gray Wolf and +Kazan. They killed two more beavers in the mud close to the willows. +Then they crossed the creek below the dam and cut off three beavers in +the depression behind the windfall. There was no escape for these three. +They were torn into pieces. Farther up the creek Kazan caught a young +beaver and killed it.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon the slaughter ended. Broken Tooth and his +courageous engineers had at last repaired the breach, and the water in +the pond began to rise.</p> + +<p>Half a mile up the creek the big otter was squatted on a log basking in +the last glow of the setting sun. To-morrow he would go and do over +again his work of destruction. That was his method. For him it was play.</p> + +<p>But that strange and unseen arbiter of the forests called O-ee-ki, "the +Spirit," by those who speak the wild tongue, looked down at last with +mercy upon Broken Tooth and his death-stricken tribe. For in that last +glow of sunset Kazan and Gray Wolf slipped stealthily up the creek—to +find the otter basking half asleep on the log.</p> + +<p>The day's work, a full stomach, and the pool of warm sunlight in which +he lay had all combined to make the otter sleepy. He was as motionless +as the log on which he had stretched himself. He was big and gray and +old. For ten years he had lived to prove his cunning superior to that of +man. Vainly traps had been set for him. Wily trappers had built narrow +sluice-ways of rock and tree in small streams for him, but the old otter +had foiled their cunning and escaped the steel jaws waiting at the lower +end of each sluice. The trail he left in soft mud told of his size. A +few trappers had seen him. His soft pelt would long ago have found its +way to London, Paris or Berlin had it not been for his cunning. He was +fit for a princess, a duke or an emperor. For ten years he had lived +and escaped the demands of the rich.</p> + +<p>But this was summer. No trapper would have killed him now, for his pelt +was worthless. Nature and instinct both told him this. At this season he +did not dread man, for there was no man to dread. So he lay asleep on +the log, oblivious to everything but the comfort of sleep and the warmth +of the sun.</p> + +<p>Soft-footed, searching still for signs of the furry enemies who had +invaded their domain, Kazan slipped along the creek. Gray Wolf ran close +at his shoulder. They made no sound, and the wind was in their +favor—bringing scents toward them. It brought the otter smell. To Kazan +and Gray Wolf it was the scent of a water animal, rank and fishy, and +they took it for the beaver. They advanced still more cautiously. Then +Kazan saw the big otter asleep on the log and he gave the warning to +Gray Wolf. She stopped, standing with her head thrown up, while Kazan +made his stealthy advance. The otter stirred uneasily. It was growing +dusk. The golden pool of sunlight had faded away. Back in the darkening +timber an owl greeted night with its first-low call. The otter breathed +deeply. His whiskered muzzle twitched. He was awakening—stirring—when +Kazan leaped upon him. Face to face, in fair fight, the old otter could +have given a good account of himself. But there was no chance now. The +wild itself had for the first time in his life become his deadliest +enemy. It was not man now—but O-ee-ki, "the Spirit," that had laid its +hand upon him. And from the Spirit there was no escape. Kazan's fangs +sank into his soft jugular. Perhaps he died without knowing what it was +that had leaped upon him. For he died—quickly, and Kazan and Gray Wolf +went on their way, hunting still for enemies to slaughter, and not +knowing that in the otter they had killed the one ally who would have +driven the beavers from their swamp home.</p> + +<p>The days that followed grew more and more hopeless for Kazan and Gray +Wolf. With the otter gone Broken Tooth and his tribe held the winning +hand. Each day the water backed a little farther into the depression +surrounding the windfall. By the middle of July only a narrow strip of +land connected the windfall hummock with the dry land of the swamp. In +deep water the beavers now worked unmolested. Inch by inch the water +rose, until there came the day when it began to overflow the connecting +strip. For the last time Kazan and Gray Wolf passed from their windfall +home and traveled up the stream between the two ridges. The creek held a +new meaning for them now and as they traveled they sniffed its odors and +listened to its sounds with an interest they had never known before. It +was an interest mingled a little with fear, for something in the manner +in which the beavers had beaten them reminded Kazan and Gray Wolf of +<i>man</i>. And that night, when in the radiance of the big white moon they +came within scent of the beaver colony that Broken Tooth had left, they +turned quickly northward into the plains. Thus had brave old Broken +Tooth taught them to respect the flesh and blood and handiwork of his +tribe.</p> + + + + +<a name="21"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXI</h2> + +<h3>A Shot On The Sand-Bar</h3> + +<p>July and August of 1911 were months of great fires in the Northland. The +swamp home of Kazan and Gray Wolf, and the green valley between the two +ridges, had escaped the seas of devastating flame; but now, as they set +forth on their wandering adventures again, it was not long before their +padded feet came in contact with the seared and blackened desolation +that had followed so closely after the plague and starvation of the +preceding winter. In his humiliation and defeat, after being driven from +his swamp home by the beavers, Kazan led his blind mate first into the +south. Twenty miles beyond the ridge they struck the fire-killed +forests. Winds from Hudson's Bay had driven the flames in an unbroken +sea into the west, and they had left not a vestige of life or a patch of +green. Blind Gray Wolf could not see the blackened world, but she +<i>sensed</i> it. It recalled to her memory of that other fire, after the +battle on the Sun Rock; and all of her wonderful instincts, sharpened +and developed by her blindness, told her that to the north—and not +south—lay the hunting-grounds they were seeking. The strain of dog that +was in Kazan still pulled him south. It was not because he sought man, +for to man he had now become as deadly an enemy as Gray Wolf herself. It +was simply dog instinct to travel southward; in the face of fire it was +wolf instinct to travel northward. At the end of the third day Gray Wolf +won. They recrossed the little valley between the two ridges, and swung +north and west into the Athabasca country, striking a course that would +ultimately bring them to the headwaters of the McFarlane River.</p> + +<p>Late in the preceding autumn a prospector had come up to Fort Smith, on +the Slave River, with a pickle bottle filled with gold dust and nuggets. +He had made the find on the McFarlane. The first mails had taken the +news to the outside world, and by midwinter the earliest members of a +treasure-hunting horde were rushing into the country by snow-shoe and +dog-sledge. Other finds came thick and fast. The McFarlane was rich in +free gold, and miners by the score staked out their claims along it and +began work. Latecomers swung to new fields farther north and east, and +to Fort Smith came rumors of "finds" richer than those of the Yukon. A +score of men at first—then a hundred, five hundred, a thousand—rushed +into the new country. Most of these were from the prairie countries to +the south, and from the placer beds of the Saskatchewan and the Frazer. +From the far North, traveling by way of the Mackenzie and the Liard, +came a smaller number of seasoned prospectors and adventurers from the +Yukon—men who knew what it meant to starve and freeze and die by +inches.</p> + +<p>One of these late comers was Sandy McTrigger. There were several reasons +why Sandy had left the Yukon. He was "in bad" with the police who +patrolled the country west of Dawson, and he was "broke." In spite of +these facts he was one of the best prospectors that had ever followed +the shores of the Klondike. He had made discoveries running up to a +million or two, and had promptly lost them through gambling and drink. +He had no conscience, and little fear. Brutality was the chief thing +written in his face. His undershot jaw, his wide eyes, low forehead and +grizzly mop of red hair proclaimed him at once as a man not to be +trusted beyond one's own vision or the reach of a bullet. It was +suspected that he had killed a couple of men, and robbed others, but as +yet the police had failed to get anything "on" him. But along with this +bad side of him, Sandy McTrigger possessed a coolness and a courage +which even his worst enemies could not but admire, and also certain +mental depths which his unpleasant features did not proclaim.</p> + +<p>Inside of six months Red Gold City had sprung up on the McFarlane, a +hundred and fifty miles from Fort Smith, and Fort Smith was five hundred +miles from civilization. When Sandy came he looked over the crude +collection of shacks, gambling houses and saloons in the new town, and +made up his mind that the time was not ripe for any of his "inside" +schemes just yet. He gambled a little, and won sufficient to buy himself +grub and half an outfit. A feature of this outfit was an old +muzzle-loading rifle. Sandy, who always carried the latest Savage on +the market, laughed at it. But it was the best his finances would allow +of. He started south—up the McFarlane. Beyond a certain point on the +river prospectors had found no gold. Sandy pushed confidently <i>beyond</i> +this point. Not until he was in new country did he begin his search. +Slowly he worked his way up a small tributary whose headwaters were +fifty or sixty miles to the south and east. Here and there he found +fairly good placer gold. He might have panned six or eight dollars' +worth a day. With this much he was disgusted. Week after week he +continued to work his way up-stream, and the farther he went the poorer +his pans became. At last only occasionally did he find colors. After +such disgusting weeks as these Sandy was dangerous—when in the company +of others. Alone he was harmless.</p> + +<p>One afternoon he ran his canoe ashore on a white strip of sand. This was +at a bend, where the stream had widened, and gave promise of at least a +few colors. He had bent down close to the edge of the water when +something caught his attention on the wet sand. What he saw were the +footprints of animals. Two had come down to drink. They had stood side +by side. And the footprints were fresh—made not more than an hour or +two before. A gleam of interest shot into Sandy's eyes. He looked behind +him, and up and down the stream.</p> + +<p>"Wolves," he grunted. "Wish I could 'a' shot at 'em with that old +minute-gun back there. Gawd—listen to that! And in broad daylight, +too!"</p> + +<p>He jumped to his feet, staring off into the bush.</p> + +<p>A quarter of a mile away Gray Wolf had caught the dreaded scent of man +in the wind, and was giving voice to her warning. It was a long wailing +howl, and not until its last echoes had died away did Sandy McTrigger +move. Then he returned to the canoe, took out his old gun, put a fresh +cap on the nipple and disappeared quickly over the edge of the bank.</p> + +<p>For a week Kazan and Gray Wolf had been wandering about the headwaters +of the McFarlane and this was the first time since the preceding winter +that Gray Wolf had caught the scent of man in the air. When the wind +brought the danger-signal to her she was alone. Two or three minutes +before the scent came to her Kazan had left her side in swift pursuit of +a snow-shoe rabbit, and she lay flat on her belly under a bush, waiting +for him. In these moments when she was alone Gray Wolf was constantly +sniffing the air. Blindness had developed her scent and hearing until +they were next to infallible. First she had heard the rattle of Sandy +McTrigger's paddle against the side of his canoe a quarter of a mile +away. Scent had followed swiftly. Five minutes after her warning howl +Kazan stood at her side, his head flung up, his jaws open and panting. +Sandy had hunted Arctic foxes, and he was using the Eskimo tactics now, +swinging in a half-circle until he should come up in the face of the +wind. Kazan caught a single whiff of the man-tainted air and his spine +grew stiff. But blind Gray Wolf was keener than the little red-eyed fox +of the North. Her pointed nose slowly followed Sandy's progress. She +heard a dry stick crack under his feet three hundred yards away. She +caught the metallic click of his gun-barrel as it struck a birch +sapling. The moment she lost Sandy in the wind she whined and rubbed +herself against Kazan and trotted a few steps to the southwest.</p> + +<p>At times such as this Kazan seldom refused to take guidance from her. +They trotted away side by side and by the time Sandy was creeping up +snake-like with the wind in his face, Kazan was peering from the fringe +of river brush down upon the canoe on the white strip of sand. When +Sandy returned, after an hour of futile stalking, two fresh tracks led +straight down to the canoe. He looked at them in amazement and then a +sinister grin wrinkled his ugly face. He chuckled as he went to his kit +and dug out a small rubber bag. From this he drew a tightly corked +bottle, filled with gelatine capsules. In each little capsule were five +grains of strychnine. There were dark hints that once upon a time Sandy +McTrigger had tried one of these capsules by dropping it in a cup of +coffee and giving it to a man, but the police had never proved it. He +was expert in the use of poison. Probably he had killed a thousand foxes +in his time, and he chuckled again as he counted out a dozen of the +capsules and thought how easy it would be to get this inquisitive pair +of wolves. Two or three days before he had killed a caribou, and each of +the capsules he now rolled up in a little ball of deer fat, doing the +work with short sticks in place of his fingers, so that there would be +no man-smell clinging to the death-baits. Before sundown Sandy set out +at right-angles over the plain, planting the baits. Most of them he hung +to low bushes. Others he dropped in worn rabbit and caribou trails. Then +he returned to the creek and cooked his supper.</p> + +<p>Then next morning he was up early, and off to the poison baits. The +first bait was untouched. The second was as he had planted it. The third +was gone. A thrill shot through Sandy as he looked about him. Somewhere +within a radius of two or three hundred yards he would find his game. +Then his glance fell to the ground under the bush where he had hung the +poison capsule and an oath broke from his lips. The bait had not been +eaten. The caribou fat lay scattered under the bush and still imbedded +in the largest portion of it was the little white capsule—unbroken. It +was Sandy's first experience with a wild creature whose instincts were +sharpened by blindness, and he was puzzled. He had never known this to +happen before. If a fox or a wolf could be lured to the point of +touching a bait, it followed that the bait was eaten. Sandy went on to +the fourth and the fifth baits. They were untouched. The sixth was torn +to pieces, like the third. In this instance the capsule was broken and +the white powder scattered. Two more poison baits Sandy found pulled +down in this manner. He knew that Kazan and Gray Wolf had done the work, +for he found the marks of their feet in a dozen different places. The +accumulated bad humor of weeks of futile labor found vent in his +disappointment and anger. At last he had found something tangible to +curse. The failure of his poison baits he accepted as a sort of climax +to his general bad luck. Everything was against him, he believed, and he +made up his mind to return to Red Gold City. Early in the afternoon he +launched his canoe and drifted down-stream with the current. He was +content to let the current do all of the work to-day, and he used his +paddle just enough to keep his slender craft head on. He leaned back +comfortably and smoked his pipe, with the old rifle between his knees. +The wind was in his face and he kept a sharp watch for game.</p> + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when Kazan and Gray Wolf came out on a +sand-bar five or six miles down-stream. Kazan was lapping up the cool +water when Sandy drifted quietly around a bend a hundred yards above +them. If the wind had been right, or if Sandy had been using his paddle, +Gray Wolf would have detected danger. It was the metallic click-click of +the old-fashioned lock of Sandy's rifle that awakened her to a sense of +peril. Instantly she was thrilled by the nearness of it. Kazan heard the +sound and stopped drinking to face it. In that moment Sandy pressed the +trigger. A belch of smoke, a roar of gunpowder, and Kazan felt a red-hot +stream of fire pass with the swiftness of a lightning-flash through his +brain. He stumbled back, his legs gave way under him, and he crumpled +down in a limp heap. Gray Wolf darted like a streak off into the bush. +Blind, she had not seen Kazan wilt down upon the white sand. Not until +she was a quarter of a mile away from the terrifying thunder of the +white man's rifle did she stop and wait for him.</p> + +<p>Sandy McTrigger grounded his canoe on the sand-bar with an exultant +yell.</p> + +<p>"Got you, you old devil, didn't I?" he cried. "I'd 'a' got the other, +too, if I'd 'a' had something besides this damned old relic!"</p> + +<p>He turned Kazan's head over with the butt of his gun, and the leer of +satisfaction in his face gave place to a sudden look of amazement. For +the first time he saw the collar about Kazan's neck.</p> + +<p>"My Gawd, it ain't a wolf," he gasped. "It's a dog, Sandy McTrigger—<i>a +dog!"</i></p> + + + + +<a name="22"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXII</h2> + +<h3>Sandy'S Method</h3> + +<p>McTrigger dropped on his knees in the sand. The look of exultation was +gone from his face. He twisted the collar about the dog's limp neck +until he came to the worn plate, on which he could make out the faintly +engraved letters <i>K-a-z-a-n</i>. He spelled the letters out one by one, and +the look in his face was of one who still disbelieved what he had seen +and heard.</p> + +<p>"A dog!" he exclaimed again. "A dog, Sandy McTrigger an' a—a beauty!"</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet and looked down on his victim. A pool of blood lay +in the white sand at the end of Kazan's nose. After a moment Sandy bent +over to see where his bullet had struck. His inspection filled him with +a new and greater interest. The heavy ball from the muzzle-loader had +struck Kazan fairly on top of the head. It was a glancing blow that had +not even broken the skull, and like a flash Sandy understood the +quivering and twitching of Kazan's shoulders and legs. He had thought +that they were the last muscular throes of death. But Kazan was not +dying. He was only stunned, and would be on his feet again in a few +minutes. Sandy was a connoisseur of dogs—of dogs that had worn sledge +traces. He had lived among them two-thirds of his life. He could tell +their age, their value, and a part of their history at a glance. In the +snow he could tell the trail of a Mackenzie hound from that of a +Malemute, and the track of an Eskimo dog from that of a Yukon husky. He +looked at Kazan's feet. They were wolf feet, and he chuckled. Kazan was +part wild. He was big and powerful, and Sandy thought of the coming +winter, and of the high prices that dogs would bring at Red Gold City. +He went to the canoe and returned with a roll of stout moose-hide +babiche. Then he sat down cross-legged in front of Kazan and began +making a muzzle. He did this by plaiting babiche thongs in the same +manner that one does in making the web of a snow-shoe. In ten minutes he +had the muzzle over Kazan's nose and fastened securely about his neck. +To the dog's collar he then fastened a ten-foot rope of babiche. After +that he sat back and waited for Kazan to come to life.</p> + +<p>When Kazan first lifted his head he could not see. There was a red film +before his eyes. But this passed away swiftly and he saw the man. His +first instinct was to rise to his feet. Three times he fell back before +he could stand up. Sandy was squatted six feet from him, holding the end +of the babiche, and grinning. Kazan's fangs gleamed back. He growled, +and the crest along his spine rose menacingly. Sandy jumped to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Guess I know what you're figgering on," he said. "I've had <i>your</i> kind +before. The dam' wolves have turned you bad, an' you'll need a whole lot +of club before you're right again. Now, look here."</p> + +<p>Sandy had taken the precaution of bringing a thick club along with the +babiche. He picked it up from where he had dropped it in the sand. +Kazan's strength had fairly returned to him now. He was no longer dizzy. +The mist had cleared away from his eyes. Before him he saw once more his +old enemy, man—man and the club. All of the wild ferocity of his +nature was roused in an instant. Without reasoning he knew that Gray +Wolf was gone, and that this man was accountable for her going. He knew +that this man had also brought him his own hurt, and what he ascribed to +the man he also attributed to the club. In his newer undertaking of +things, born of freedom and Gray Wolf, Man and Club were one and +inseparable. With a snarl he leaped at Sandy. The man was not expecting +a direct assault, and before he could raise his club or spring aside +Kazan had landed full on his chest. The muzzle about Kazan's jaws saved +him. Fangs that would have torn his throat open snapped harmlessly. +Under the weight of the dog's body he fell back, as if struck down by a +catapult.</p> + +<p>As quick as a cat he was on his feet again, with the end of the babiche +twisted several times about his hand. Kazan leaped again, and this time +he was met by a furious swing of the club. It smashed against his +shoulder, and sent him down in the sand. Before he could recover Sandy +was upon him, with all the fury of a man gone mad. He shortened the +babiche by twisting it again and again about his hand, and the club rose +and fell with the skill and strength of one long accustomed to its use. +The first blows served only to add to Kazan's hatred of man, and the +ferocity and fearlessness of his attacks. Again and again he leaped in, +and each time the club fell upon him with a force that threatened to +break his bones. There was a tense hard look about Sandy's cruel mouth. +He had never known a dog like this before, and he was a bit nervous, +even with Kazan muzzled. Three times Kazan's fangs would have sunk deep +in his flesh had it not been for the babiche. And if the thongs about +his jaws should slip, or break—.</p> + +<p>Sandy followed up the thought with a smashing blow that landed on +Kazan's head, and once more the old battler fell limp upon the sand. +McTrigger's breath was coming in quick gasps. He was almost winded. Not +until the club slipped from his hand did he realize how desperate the +fight had been. Before Kazan recovered from the blow that had stunned +him Sandy examined the muzzle and strengthened it by adding another +babiche thong. Then he dragged Kazan to a log that high water had +thrown up on the shore a few yards away and made the end of the babiche +rope fast to a dead snag. After that he pulled his canoe higher up on +the sand, and began to prepare camp for the night.</p> + +<p>For some minutes after Kazan's stunned senses had become normal he lay +motionless, watching Sandy McTrigger. Every bone in his body gave him +pain. His jaws were sore and bleeding. His upper lip was smashed where +the club had fallen. One eye was almost closed. Several times Sandy came +near, much pleased at what he regarded as the good results of the +beating. Each time he brought the club. The third time he prodded Kazan +with it, and the dog snarled and snapped savagely at the end of it. That +was what Sandy wanted—it was an old trick of the dog-slaver. Instantly +he was using the club again, until with a whining cry Kazan slunk under +the protection of the snag to which he was fastened. He could scarcely +drag himself. His right forepaw was smashed. His hindquarters sank under +him. For a time after this second beating he could not have escaped had +he been free.</p> + +<p>Sandy was in unusually good humor.</p> + +<p>"I'll take the devil out of you all right," he told Kazan for the +twentieth time. "There's nothin' like beatin's to make dogs an' wimmin +live up to the mark. A month from now you'll be worth two hundred +dollars or I'll skin you alive!"</p> + +<p>Three or four times before dusk Sandy worked to rouse Kazan's animosity. +But there was no longer any desire left in Kazan to fight. His two +terrific beatings, and the crushing blow of the bullet against his +skull, had made him sick. He lay with his head between his forepaws, his +eyes closed, and did not see McTrigger. He paid no attention to the meat +that was thrown under his nose. He did not know when the last of the sun +sank behind the western forests, or when the darkness came. But at last +something roused him from his stupor. To his dazed and sickened brain it +came like a call from out of the far past, and he raised his head and +listened. Out on the sand McTrigger had built a fire, and the man stood +in the red glow of it now, facing the dark shadows beyond the shoreline. +He, too, was listening. What had roused Kazan came again now—the lost +mourning cry of Gray Wolf far out on the plain.</p> + +<p>With a whine Kazan was on his feet, tugging at the babiche. Sandy +snatched up his club, and leaped toward him.</p> + +<p>"Down, you brute!" he commanded.</p> + +<p>In the firelight the club rose and fell with ferocious quickness. When +McTrigger returned to the fire he was breathing hard again. He tossed +his club beside the blankets he had spread out for a bed. It was a +different looking club now. It was covered with blood and hair.</p> + +<p>"Guess that'll take the spirit out of him," he chuckled. "It'll do +that—or kill 'im!"</p> + +<p>Several times that night Kazan heard Gray Wolf's call. He whined softly +in response, fearing the club. He watched the fire until the last embers +of it died out, and then cautiously dragged himself from under the snag. +Two or three times he tried to stand on his feet, but fell back each +time. His legs were not broken, but the pain of standing on them was +excruciating. He was hot and feverish. All that night he had craved a +drink of water. When Sandy crawled out from between his blankets in the +early dawn he gave him both meat and water. Kazan drank the water, but +would not touch the meat. Sandy regarded the change in him with +satisfaction. By the time the sun was up he had finished his breakfast +and was ready to leave. He approached Kazan fearlessly now, without the +club. Untying the babiche he dragged the dog to the canoe. Kazan slunk +in the sand while his captor fastened the end of the hide rope to the +stern of the canoe. Sandy grinned. What was about to happen would be fun +for him. In the Yukon he had learned how to take the spirit out of dogs.</p> + +<p>He pushed off, bow foremost. Bracing himself with his paddle he then +began to pull Kazan toward the water. In a few moments Kazan stood with +his forefeet planted in the damp sand at the edge of the stream. For a +brief interval Sandy allowed the babiche to fall slack. Then with a +sudden powerful pull he jerked Kazan out into the water. Instantly he +sent the canoe into midstream, swung it quickly down with the current, +and began to paddle enough to keep the babiche taut about his victim's +neck. In spite of his sickness and injuries Kazan was now compelled to +swim to keep his head above water. In the wash of the canoe, and with +Sandy's strokes growing steadily stronger, his position became each +moment one of increasing torture. At times his shaggy head was pulled +completely under water. At others Sandy would wait until he had drifted +alongside, and then thrust him under with the end of his paddle. He grew +weaker. At the end of a half-mile he was drowning. Not until then did +Sandy pull him alongside and drag him into the canoe. The dog fell limp +and gasping in the bottom. Brutal though Sandy's methods had been, they +had worked his purpose. In Kazan there was no longer a desire to fight. +He no longer struggled for freedom. He knew that this man was his +master, and for the time his spirit was gone. All he desired now was to +be allowed to lie in the bottom of the canoe, out of reach of the club, +and safe from the water. The club lay between him and the man. The end +of it was within a foot or two of his nose, and what he smelled was his +own blood.</p> + +<p>For five days and five nights the journey down-stream continued, and +McTrigger's process of civilizing Kazan was continued in three more +beatings with the club, and another resort to the water torture. On the +morning of the sixth day they reached Red Gold City, and McTrigger put +up his tent close to the river. Somewhere he obtained a chain for Kazan, +and after fastening the dog securely back of the tent he cut off the +babiche muzzle.</p> + +<p>"You can't put on meat in a muzzle," he told his prisoner. "An' I want +you to git strong—an' fierce as hell. I've got an idee. It's an idee +you can lick your weight in wildcats. We'll pull off a stunt pretty soon +that'll fill our pockets with dust. I've done it afore, and we can do it +<i>here</i>. Wolf an' dog—s'elp me Gawd but it'll be a drawin' card!"</p> + +<p>Twice a day after this he brought fresh raw meat to Kazan. Quickly +Kazan's spirit and courage returned to him. The soreness left his limbs. +His battered jaws healed. And after the fourth day each time that Sandy +came with meat he greeted him with the challenge of his snarling fangs. +McTrigger did not beat him now. He gave him no fish, no tallow and +meal—nothing but raw meat. He traveled five miles up the river to bring +in the fresh entrail of a caribou that had been killed. One day Sandy +brought another man with him and when the stranger came a step too near +Kazan made a sudden swift lunge at him. The man jumped back with a +startled oath.</p> + +<p>"He'll do," he growled. "He's lighter by ten or fifteen pounds than the +Dane, but he's got the teeth, an' the quickness, an' he'll give a good +show before he goes under."</p> + +<p>"I'll make you a bet of twenty-five per cent. of my share that he don't +go under," offered Sandy.</p> + +<p>"Done!" said the other. "How long before he'll be ready?"</p> + +<p>Sandy thought a moment.</p> + +<p>"Another week," he said. "He won't have his weight before then. A week +from to-day, we'll say. Next Tuesday night. Does that suit you, Harker?"</p> + +<p>Harker nodded.</p> + +<p>"Next Tuesday night," he agreed. Then he added, "I'll make it a <i>half</i> +of my share that the Dane kills your wolf-dog."</p> + +<p>Sandy took a long look at Kazan.</p> + +<p>"I'll just take you on that," he said. Then, as he shook Harker's hand, +"I don't believe there's a dog between here and the Yukon that can kill +the wolf!"</p> + + + + +<a name="23"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXIII</h2> + +<h3>Professor McGill</h3> + +<p>Red Gold City was ripe for a night of relaxation. There had been some +gambling, a few fights and enough liquor to create excitement now and +then, but the presence of the mounted police had served to keep things +unusually tame compared with events a few hundred miles farther north, +in the Dawson country. The entertainment proposed by Sandy McTrigger and +Jan Harker met with excited favor. The news spread for twenty miles +about Red Gold City and there had never been greater excitement in the +town than on the afternoon and night of the big fight. This was largely +because Kazan and the huge Dane had been placed on exhibition, each dog +in a specially made cage of his own, and a fever of betting began. Three +hundred men, each of whom was paying five dollars to see the battle, +viewed the gladiators through the bars of their cages. Harker's dog was +a combination of Great Dane and mastiff, born in the North, and bred to +the traces. Betting favored him by the odds of two to one. Occasionally +it ran three to one. At these odds there was plenty of Kazan money. +Those who were risking their money on him were the older wilderness +men—men who had spent their lives among dogs, and who knew what the red +glint in Kazan's eyes meant. An old Kootenay miner spoke low in +another's ear:</p> + +<p>"I'd bet on 'im even. I'd give odds if I had to. He'll fight all around +the Dane. The Dane won't have no method."</p> + +<p>"But he's got the weight," said the other dubiously. "Look at his jaws, +an' his shoulders—"</p> + +<p>"An' his big feet, an' his soft throat, an' the clumsy thickness of his +belly," interrupted the Kootenay man. "For Gawd's sake, man, take my +word for it, an' don't put your money on the Dane!"</p> + +<p>Others thrust themselves between them. At first Kazan had snarled at all +these faces about him. But now he lay back against the boarded side of +the cage and eyed them sullenly from between his forepaws.</p> + +<p>The fight was to be pulled off in Barker's place, a combination of +saloon and cafe. The benches and tables had been cleared out and in the +center of the one big room a cage ten feet square rested on a platform +three and a half feet from the floor. Seats for the three hundred +spectators were drawn closely around this. Suspended just above the open +top of the cage were two big oil lamps with glass reflectors.</p> + +<p>It was eight o'clock when Harker, McTrigger and two other men bore Kazan +to the arena by means of the wooden bars that projected from the bottom +of his cage. The big Dane was already in the fighting cage. He stood +blinking his eyes in the brilliant light of the reflecting lamps. He +pricked up his ears when he saw Kazan. Kazan did not show his fangs. +Neither revealed the expected animosity. It was the first they had seen +of each other, and a murmur of disappointment swept the ranks of the +three hundred men. The Dane remained as motionless as a rock when Kazan +was prodded from his own cage into the fighting cage. He did not leap or +snarl. He regarded Kazan with a dubious questioning poise to his +splendid head, and then looked again to the expectant and excited faces +of the waiting men. For a few moments Kazan stood stiff-legged, facing +the Dane. Then his shoulders dropped, and he, too, coolly faced the +crowd that had expected a fight to the death. A laugh of derision swept +through the closely seated rows. Catcalls, jeering taunts flung at +McTrigger and Harker, and angry voices demanding their money back +mingled with a tumult of growing discontent. Sandy's face was red with +mortification and rage. The blue veins in Barker's forehead had swollen +twice their normal size. He shook his fist in the face of the crowd, and +shouted:</p> + +<p>"Wait! Give 'em a chance, you dam' fools!"</p> + +<p>At his words every voice was stilled. Kazan had turned. He was facing +the huge Dane. And the Dane had turned his eyes to Kazan. Cautiously, +prepared for a lunge or a sidestep, Kazan advanced a little. The Dane's +shoulders bristled. He, too, advanced upon Kazan. Four feet apart they +stood rigid. One could have heard a whisper in the room now. Sandy and +Harker, standing close to the cage, scarcely breathed. Splendid in every +limb and muscle, warriors of a hundred fights, and fearless to the point +of death, the two half-wolf victims of man stood facing each other. None +could see the questioning look in their brute eyes. None knew that in +this thrilling moment the unseen hand of the wonderful Spirit God of the +wilderness hovered between them, and that one of its miracles was +descending upon them. It was <i>understanding</i>. Meeting in the +open—rivals in the traces—they would have been rolling in the throes +of terrific battle. But <i>here</i> came that mute appeal of brotherhood. In +the final moment, when only a step separated them, and when men expected +to see the first mad lunge, the splendid Dane slowly raised his head and +looked over Kazan's back through the glare of the lights. Harker +trembled, and under his breath he cursed. The Dane's throat was open to +Kazan. But between the beasts had passed the voiceless pledge of peace. +Kazan did not leap. He turned. And shoulder to shoulder—splendid in +their contempt of man—they stood and looked through the bars of their +prison into the one of human faces.</p> + +<p>A roar burst from the crowd—a roar of anger, of demand, of threat. In +his rage Harker drew a revolver and leveled it at the Dane. Above the +tumult of the crowd a single voice stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Hold!" it demanded. "Hold—in the name of the law!"</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence. Every face turned in the direction of +the voice. Two men stood on chairs behind the last row. One was Sergeant +Brokaw, of the Royal Northwest Mounted. It was he who had spoken. He was +holding up a hand, commanding silence and attention. On the chair beside +him stood another man. He was thin, with drooping shoulders, and a pale +smooth face—a little man, whose physique and hollow cheeks told nothing +of the years he had spent close up along the raw edge of the Arctic. It +was he who spoke now, while the sergeant held up his hand. His voice was +low and quiet:</p> + +<p>"I'll give the owners five hundred dollars for those dogs," he said.</p> + +<p>Every man in the room heard the offer. Harker looked at Sandy. For an +instant their heads were close together.</p> + +<p>"They won't fight, and they'll make good team-mates," the little man +went on. "I'll give the owners five hundred dollars."</p> + +<p>Harker raised a hand.</p> + +<p>"Make it six," he said. "Make it six and they're yours."</p> + +<p>The little man hesitated. Then he nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you six hundred," he agreed.</p> + +<p>Murmurs of discontent rose throughout the crowd. Harker climbed to the +edge of the platform.</p> + +<p>"We ain't to blame because they wouldn't fight," he shouted, "but if +there's any of you small enough to want your money back you can git it +as you go out. The dogs laid down on us, that's all. We ain't to blame."</p> + +<p>The little man was edging his way between the chairs, accompanied by the +sergeant of police. With his pale face close to the sapling bars of the +cage he looked at Kazan and the big Dane.</p> + +<p>"I guess we'll be good friends," he said, and he spoke so low that only +the dogs heard his voice. "It's a big price, but we'll charge it to the +Smithsonian, lads. I'm going to need a couple of four-footed friends of +your moral caliber."</p> + +<p>And no one knew why Kazan and the Dane drew nearer to the little +scientist's side of the cage as he pulled out a big roll of bills and +counted out six hundred dollars for Harker and Sandy McTrigger.</p> + + + + +<a name="24"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXIV</h2> + +<h3>Alone In Darkness</h3> + +<p>Never had the terror and loneliness of blindness fallen upon Gray Wolf +as in the days that followed the shooting of Kazan and his capture by +Sandy McTrigger. For hours after the shot she crouched in the bush back +from the river, waiting for him to come to her. She had faith that he +would come, as he had come a thousand times before, and she lay close on +her belly, sniffing the air, and whining when it brought no scent of her +mate. Day and night were alike an endless chaos of darkness to her now, +but she knew when the sun went down. She sensed the first deepening +shadows of evening, and she knew that the stars were out, and that the +river lay in moonlight. It was a night to roam, and after a time she +moved restlessly about in a small circle on the plain, and sent out her +first inquiring call for Kazan. Up from the river came the pungent odor +of smoke, and instinctively she knew that it was this smoke, and the +nearness of man, that was keeping Kazan from her. But she went no nearer +than that first circle made by her padded feet. Blindness had taught her +to wait. Since the day of the battle on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had +destroyed her eyes, Kazan had never failed her. Three times she called +for him in the early night. Then she made herself a nest under a +<i>banskian</i> shrub, and waited until dawn.</p> + +<p>Just how she knew when night blotted out the last glow of the sun, so +without seeing she knew when day came. Not until she felt the warmth of +the sun on her back did her anxiety overcome her caution. Slowly she +moved toward the river, sniffing the air and whining. There was no +longer the smell of smoke in the air, and she could not catch the scent +of man. She followed her own trail back to the sand-bar, and in the +fringe of thick bush overhanging the white shore of the stream she +stopped and listened. After a little she scrambled down and went +straight to the spot where she and Kazan were drinking when the shot +came. And there her nose struck the sand still wet and thick with +Kazan's blood. She knew it was the blood of her mate, for the scent of +him was all about her in the sand, mingled with the man-smell of Sandy +McTrigger. She sniffed the trail of his body to the edge of the stream, +where Sandy had dragged him to the canoe. She found the fallen tree to +which he had been tied. And then she came upon one of the two clubs that +Sandy had used to beat wounded Kazan into submissiveness. It was covered +with blood and hair, and all at once Gray Wolf lay back on her haunches +and turned her blind face to the sky, and there rose from her throat a +cry for Kazan that drifted for miles on the wings of the south wind. +Never had Gray Wolf given quite that cry before. It was not the "call" +that comes with the moonlit nights, and neither was it the hunt-cry, nor +the she-wolf's yearning for matehood. It carried with it the lament of +death. And after that one cry Gray Wolf slunk back to the fringe of bush +over the river, and lay with her face turned to the stream.</p> + +<p>A strange terror fell upon her. She had grown accustomed to darkness, +but never before had she been <i>alone</i> in that darkness. Always there +had been the guardianship of Kazan's presence. She heard the clucking +sound of a spruce hen in the bush a few yards away, and now that sound +came to her as if from out of another world. A ground-mouse rustled +through the grass close to her forepaws, and she snapped at it, and +closed her teeth on a rock. The muscles of her shoulders twitched +tremulously and she shivered as if stricken by intense cold. She was +terrified by the darkness that shut out the world from her, and she +pawed at her closed eyes, as if she might open them to light. Early in +the afternoon she wandered back on the plain. It was different. It +frightened her, and soon she returned to the beach, and snuggled down +under the tree where Kazan had lain. She was not so frightened here. The +smell of Kazan was strong about her. For an hour she lay motionless, +with her head resting on the club clotted with his hair and blood. Night +found her still there. And when the moon and the stars came out she +crawled back into the pit in the white sand that Kazan's body had made +under the tree.</p> + +<p>With dawn she went down to the edge of the stream to drink. She could +not see that the day was almost as dark as night, and that the +gray-black sky was a chaos of slumbering storm. But she could smell the +presence of it in the thick air, and could <i>feel</i> the forked flashes of +lightning that rolled up with the dense pall from the south and west. +The distant rumbling of thunder grew louder, and she huddled herself +again under the tree. For hours the storm crashed over her, and the rain +fell in a deluge. When it had finished she slunk out from her shelter +like a thing beaten. Vainly she sought for one last scent of Kazan. The +club was washed clean. Again the sand was white where Kazan's blood had +reddened it. Even under the tree there was no sign of him left.</p> + +<p>Until now only the terror of being alone in the pit of darkness that +enveloped her had oppressed Gray Wolf. With afternoon came hunger. It +was this hunger that drew her from the sand-bar, and she wandered back +into the plain. A dozen times she scented game, and each time it evaded +her. Even a ground-mouse that she cornered under a root, and dug out +with her paws, escaped her fangs.</p> + +<p>Thirty-six hours before this Kazan and Gray Wolf had left a half of +their last kill a mile of two farther back on the plain. The kill was +one of the big barren rabbits, and Gray Wolf turned in its direction. +She did not require sight to find it. In her was developed to its finest +point that sixth sense of the animal kingdom, the sense of orientation, +and as straight as a pigeon might have winged its flight she cut through +the bush to the spot where they had cached the rabbit. A white fox had +been there ahead of her, and she found only scattered bits of hair and +fur. What the fox had left the moose-birds and bush-jays had carried +away. Hungrily Gray Wolf turned back to the river.</p> + +<p>That night she slept again where Kazan had lain, and three times she +called for him without answer. A heavy dew fell, and it drenched the +last vestige of her mate's scent out of the sand. But still through the +day that followed, and the day that followed that, blind Gray Wolf clung +to the narrow rim of white sand. On the fourth day her hunger reached a +point where she gnawed the bark from willow bushes. It was on this day +that she made a discovery. She was drinking, when her sensitive nose +touched something in the water's edge that was smooth, and bore a faint +odor of flesh. It was one of the big northern river clams. She pawed it +ashore, sniffing at the hard shell. Then she crunched it between her +teeth. She had never tasted sweeter meat than that which she found +inside, and she began hunting for other clams. She found many of them, +and ate until she was no longer hungry. For three days more she remained +on the bar.</p> + +<p>And then, one night, the call came to her. It set her quivering with a +strange new excitement—something that may have been a new hope, and in +the moonlight she trotted nervously up and down the shining strip of +sand, facing now the north, and now the south, and then the east and the +west—her head flung up, listening, as if in the soft wind of the night +she was trying to locate the whispering lure of a wonderful voice. And +whatever it was that came to her came from out of the south and east. +Off there—across the barren, far beyond the outer edge of the northern +timber-line—was <i>home</i>. And off there, in her brute way, she reasoned +that she must find Kazan. The call did not come from their old windfall +home in the swamp. It came from beyond that, and in a flashing vision +there rose through her blindness a picture of the towering Sun Rock, of +the winding trail that led to it, and the cabin on the plain. It was +there that blindness had come to her. It was there that day had ended, +and eternal night had begun. And it was there that she had mothered her +first-born. Nature had registered these things so that they could never +be wiped out of her memory, and when the call came it was from the +sunlit world where she had last known light and life and had last seen +the moon and the stars in the blue night of the skies.</p> + +<p>And to that call she responded, leaving the river and its food behind +her—straight out into the face of darkness and starvation, no longer +fearing death or the emptiness of the world she could not see; for ahead +of her, two hundred miles away, she could see the Sun Rock, the winding +trail, the nest of her first-born between the two big rocks—<i>and +Kazan</i>!</p> + + + + +<a name="25"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXV</h2> + +<h3>The Last Of McTrigger</h3> + +<p>Sixty miles farther north Kazan lay at the end of his fine steel chain, +watching little Professor McGill mixing a pail of tallow and bran. A +dozen yards from him lay the big Dane, his huge jaws drooling in +anticipation of the unusual feast which McGill was preparing. He showed +signs of pleasure when McGill approached him with a quart of the +mixture, and he gulped it between his huge jaws. The little man with the +cold blue eyes and the gray-blond hair stroked his back without fear. +His attitude was different when he turned to Kazan. His movements were +filled with caution, and yet his eyes and his lips were smiling, and he +gave the wolf-dog no evidence of his fear, if it could be called fear.</p> + +<p>The little professor, who was up in the north country for the +Smithsonian Institution, had spent a third of his life among dogs. He +loved them, and understood them. He had written a number of magazine +articles on dog intellect that had attracted wide attention among +naturalists. It was largely because he loved dogs, and understood them +more than most men, that he had bought Kazan and the big Dane on the +night when Sandy McTrigger and his partner had tried to get them to +fight to the death in the Red Gold City saloon. The refusal of the two +splendid beasts to kill each other for the pleasure of the three hundred +men who had assembled to witness the fight delighted him. He had already +planned a paper on the incident. Sandy had told him the story of Kazan's +capture, and of his wild mate, Gray Wolf, and the professor had asked +him a thousand questions. But each day Kazan puzzled him more. No amount +of kindness on his part could bring a responsive gleam in Kazan's eyes. +Not once did Kazan signify a willingness to become friends. And yet he +did not snarl at McGill, or snap at his hands when they came within +reach. Quite frequently Sandy McTrigger came over to the little cabin +where McGill was staying, and three times Kazan leaped at the end of +his chain to get at him, and his white fangs gleamed as long as Sandy +was in sight. Alone with McGill he became quiet. Something told him that +McGill had come as a friend that night when he and the big Dane stood +shoulder to shoulder in the cage that had been built for a slaughter +pen. Away down in his brute heart he held McGill apart from other men. +He had no desire to harm him. He tolerated him, but showed none of the +growing affection of the huge Dane. It was this fact that puzzled +McGill. He had never before known a dog that he could not make love him.</p> + +<p>To-day he placed the tallow and bran before Kazan, and the smile in his +face gave way to a look of perplexity. Kazan's lips had drawn suddenly +back. A fierce snarl rolled deep in his throat. The hair along his spine +stood up. His muscles twitched. Instinctively the professor turned. +Sandy McTrigger had come up quietly behind him. His brutal face wore a +grin as he looked at Kazan.</p> + +<p>"It's a fool job—tryin' to make friends with <i>him</i>" he said. Then he +added, with a sudden interested gleam in his eyes, "When you startin'?"</p> + +<p>"With first frost," replied McGill. "It ought to come soon. I'm going to +join Sergeant Conroy and his party at Fond du Lac by the first of +October."</p> + +<p>"And you're going up to Fond du Lac—alone?" queried Sandy. "Why don't +you take a man?"</p> + +<p>The little professor laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he asked. "I've been through the Athabasca waterways a dozen +times, and know the trail as well as I know Broadway. Besides, I like to +be alone. And the work isn't too hard, with the currents all flowing to +the north and east."</p> + +<p>Sandy was looking at the Dane, with his back to McGill. An exultant +gleam shot for an instant into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You're taking the dogs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>Sandy lighted his pipe, and spoke like one strangely curious.</p> + +<p>"Must cost a heap to take these trips o' yourn, don't it?"</p> + +<p>"My last cost about seven thousand dollars. This will cost five," said +McGill.</p> + +<p>"Gawd!" breathed Sandy. "An' you carry all that along with you! Ain't +you afraid—something might happen—?"</p> + +<p>The little professor was looking the other way now. The carelessness in +his face and manner changed. His blue eyes grew a shade darker. A hard +smile which Sandy did not see hovered about his lips for an instant. +Then he turned, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I'm a very light sleeper," he said. "A footstep at night rouses me. +Even a man's breathing awakes me, when I make up my mind that I must be +on my guard. And, besides"—he drew from his pocket a blue-steeled +Savage automatic—"I know how to use <i>this</i>." He pointed to a knot in +the wall of the cabin. "Observe," he said. Five times he fired at twenty +paces, and when Sandy went up to look at the knot he gave a gasp. There +was one jagged hole where the knot had been.</p> + +<p>"Pretty good," he grinned. "Most men couldn't do better'n that with a +rifle."</p> + +<p>When Sandy left, McGill followed him with a suspicious gleam in his +eyes, and a curious smile on his lips. Then he turned to Kazan.</p> + +<p>"Guess you've got him figgered out about right, old man," he laughed +softly. "I don't blame you very much for wanting to get him by the +throat. Perhaps—"</p> + +<p>He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and went into the cabin. Kazan +dropped his head between his forepaws, and lay still, with wide-open +eyes. It was late afternoon, early in September, and each night brought +now the first chill breaths of autumn. Kazan watched the last glow of +the sun as it faded out of the southern skies. Darkness always followed +swiftly after that, and with darkness came more fiercely his wild +longing for freedom. Night after night he had gnawed at his steel chain. +Night after night he had watched the stars, and the moon, and had +listened for Gray Wolf's call, while the big Dane lay sleeping. To-night +it was colder than usual, and the keen tang of the wind that came fresh +from the west stirred him strangely. It set his blood afire with what +the Indians call the Frost Hunger. Lethargic summer was gone and the +days and nights of hunting were at hand. He wanted to leap out into +freedom and run until he was exhausted, with Gray Wolf at his side. He +knew that Gray Wolf was off there—where the stars hung low in the clear +sky, and that she was waiting. He strained at the end of his chain, and +whined. All that night he was restless—more restless than he had been +at any time before. Once, in the far distance, he heard a cry that he +thought was the cry of Gray Wolf, and his answer roused McGill from deep +sleep. It was dawn, and the little professor dressed himself and came +out of the cabin. With satisfaction he noted the exhilarating snap in +the air. He wet his fingers and held them above his head, chuckling when +he found the wind had swung into the north. He went to Kazan, and talked +to him. Among other things he said, "This'll put the black flies to +sleep, Kazan. A day or two more of it and we'll start."</p> + +<p>Five days later McGill led first the Dane, and then Kazan, to a packed +canoe. Sandy McTrigger saw them off, and Kazan watched for a chance to +leap at him. Sandy kept his distance, and McGill watched the two with a +thought that set the blood running swiftly behind the mask of his +careless smile. They had slipped a mile down-stream when he leaned over +and laid a fearless hand on Kazan's head. Something in the touch of that +hand, and in the professor's voice, kept Kazan from a desire to snap at +him. He tolerated the friendship with expressionless eyes and a +motionless body.</p> + +<p>"I was beginning to fear I wouldn't have much sleep, old boy," chuckled +McGill ambiguously, "but I guess I can take a nap now and then with +<i>you</i> along!"</p> + +<p>He made camp that night fifteen miles up the lake shore. The big Dane he +fastened to a sapling twenty yards from his small silk tent, but Kazan's +chain he made fast to the butt of a stunted birch that held down the +tent-flap. Before he went into the tent for the night McGill pulled out +his automatic and examined it with care.</p> + +<p>For three days the journey continued without a mishap along the shore of +Lake Athabasca. On the fourth night McGill pitched his tent in a clump +of <i>banskian</i> pine a hundred yards back from the water. All that day the +wind had come steadily from behind them, and for at least a half of the +day the professor had been watching Kazan closely. From the west there +had now and then come a scent that stirred him uneasily. Since noon he +had sniffed that wind. Twice McGill had heard him growling deep in his +throat, and once, when the scent had come stronger than usual, he had +bared his fangs, and the bristles stood up along his spine. For an hour +after striking camp the little professor did not build a fire, but sat +looking up the shore of the lake through his hunting glass. It was dusk +when he returned to where he had put up his tent and chained the dogs. +For a few moments he stood unobserved, looking at the wolf-dog. Kazan +was still uneasy. He lay <i>facing</i> the west. McGill made note of this, +for the big Dane lay behind Kazan—to the east. Under ordinary +conditions Kazan would have faced him. He was sure now that there was +something in the west wind. A little shiver ran up his back as he +thought of what it might be.</p> + +<p>Behind a rock he built a very small fire, and prepared supper. After +this he went into the tent, and when he came out he carried a blanket +under his arm. He chuckled as he stood for a moment over Kazan.</p> + +<p>"We're not going to sleep in there to-night, old hoy," he said. "I don't +like what you've found in the west wind. It may he a—<i>thunder-storm!</i>" +He laughed at his joke, and buried himself in a clump of stunted +<i>banskians</i> thirty paces from the tent. Here he rolled himself in his +blanket, and went to sleep.</p> + +<p>It was a quiet starlit night, and hours afterward Kazan dropped his nose +between his forepaws and drowsed. It was the snap of a twig that roused +him. The sound did not awaken the sluggish Dane but instantly Kazan's +head was alert, his keen nostrils sniffing the air. What he had smelled +all day was heavy about him now. He lay still and quivering. Slowly, +from out of the <i>banskians</i> behind the tent, there came a figure. It was +not the little professor. It approached cautiously, with lowered head +and hunched shoulders, and the starlight revealed the murderous face of +Sandy McTrigger. Kazan crouched low. He laid his head flat between his +forepaws. His long fangs gleamed. But he made no sound that betrayed his +concealment under a thick <i>banskian</i> shrub. Step by step Sandy +approached, and at last he reached the flap of the tent. He did not +carry a club or a whip in his hand now. In the place of either of those +was the glitter of steel. At the door to the tent he paused, and peered +in, his back to Kazan.</p> + +<p>Silently, swiftly—the wolf now in every movement, Kazan came to his +feet. He forgot the chain that held him. Ten feet away stood the enemy +he hated above all others he had ever known. Every ounce of strength in +his splendid body gathered itself for the spring. And then he leaped. +This time the chain did not pull him back, almost neck-broken. Age and +the elements had weakened the leather collar he had worn since the days +of his slavery in the traces, and it gave way with a snap. Sandy turned, +and in a second leap Kazan's fangs sank into the flesh of his arm. With +a startled cry the man fell, and as they rolled over on the ground the +big Dane's deep voice rolled out in thunderous alarm as he tugged at his +leash. In the fall Kazan's hold was broken. In an instant he was on his +feet, ready for another attack. And then the change came. He was +<i>free</i>. The collar was gone from his neck. The forest, the stars, the +whispering wind were all about him. <i>Here</i> were men, and off there +was—Gray Wolf! His ears dropped, and he turned swiftly, and slipped +like a shadow back into the glorious freedom of his world.</p> + +<p>A hundred yards away something stopped him for an instant. It was not +the big Dane's voice, but the sharp <i>crack—crack—crack</i>, of the little +professor's automatic. And above that sound there rose the voice of +Sandy McTrigger in a weird and terrible cry.</p> + + + + +<a name="26"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXVI</h2> + +<h3>An Empty World</h3> + +<p>Mile after mile Kazan went on. For a time he was oppressed by the +shivering note of death that had come to him in Sandy McTrigger's cry, +and he slipped through the <i>banskians</i> like a shadow, his ears +flattened, his tail trailing, his hindquarters betraying that curious +slinking quality of the wolf and dog stealing away from danger. Then he +came out upon a plain, and the stillness, the billion stars in the clear +vault of the sky, and the keen air that carried with it a breath of the +Arctic barrens made him alert and questioning. He faced the direction of +the wind. Somewhere off there, far to the south and west, was Gray Wolf. +For the first time in many weeks he sat back on his haunches and gave +the deep and vibrant call that echoed weirdly for miles about him. Back +in the <i>banskians</i> the big Dane heard it, and whined. From over the +still body of Sandy McTrigger the little professor looked up with a +white tense face, and listened for a second cry. But instinct told Kazan +that to that first call there would be no answer, and now he struck out +swiftly, galloping mile after mile, as a dog follows the trail of its +master home. He did not turn hack to the lake, nor was his direction +toward Red Gold City. As straight as he might have followed a road +blazed by the hand of man he cut across the forty miles of plain and +swamp and forest and rocky ridge that lay between him and the McFarlane. +All that night he did not call again for Gray Wolf. With him reasoning +was a process brought about by habit—by precedent—and as Gray Wolf had +waited for him many times before he knew that she would be waiting for +him now near the sand-bar.</p> + +<p>By dawn he had reached the river, within three miles of the sand-bar. +Scarcely was the sun up when he stood on the white strip of sand where +he and Gray Wolf had come down to drink. Expectantly and confidently he +looked about him for Gray Wolf, whining softly, and wagging his tail. He +began to search for her scent, but rains had washed even her footprints +from the clean sand. All that day he searched for her along the river +and out on the plain. He went to where they had killed their last +rabbit. He sniffed at the bushes where the poison baits had hung. Again +and again he sat back on his haunches and sent out his mating cry to +her. And slowly, as he did these things, nature was working in him that +miracle of the wild which the Crees have named the "spirit call." As it +had worked in Gray Wolf, so now it stirred the blood of Kazan. With the +going of the sun, and the sweeping about him of shadowy night, he turned +more and more to the south and east. His whole world was made up of the +trails over which he had hunted. Beyond those places he did not know +that there was such a thing as existence. And in that world, small in +his understanding of things, was Gray Wolf. He could not miss her. That +world, in his comprehension of it, ran from the McFarlane in a narrow +trail through the forests and over the plains to the little valley from +which the beavers had driven them. If Gray Wolf was not here—she was +there, and tirelessly he resumed his quest of her.</p> + +<p>Not until the stars were fading out of the sky again, and gray day was +giving place to night, did exhaustion and hunger stop him. He killed a +rabbit, and for hours after he had feasted he lay close to his kill, and +slept. Then he went on.</p> + +<p>The fourth night he came to the little valley between the two ridges, +and under the stars, more brilliant now in the chill clearness of the +early autumn nights, he followed the creek down into their old swamp +home. It was broad day when he reached the edge of the great beaver pond +that now completely surrounded the windfall under which Gray-Wolf's +second-born had come into the world. Broken Tooth and the other beavers +had wrought a big change in what had once been his home and Gray Wolf's, +and for many minutes Kazan stood silent and motionless at the edge of +the pond, sniffing the air heavy with the unpleasant odor of the +usurpers. Until now his spirit had remained unbroken. Footsore, with +thinned sides and gaunt head, he circled slowly through the swamp. All +that day he searched. And his crest lay flat now, and there was a hunted +look in the droop of his shoulders and in the shifting look of his +eyes. Gray Wolf was gone.</p> + +<p>Slowly nature was impinging that fact upon him. She had passed out of +his world and out of his life, and he was filled with a loneliness and a +grief so great that the forest seemed strange, and the stillness of the +wild a thing that now oppressed and frightened him. Once more the dog in +him was mastering the wolf. With Gray Wolf he had possessed the world of +freedom. Without her, that world was so big and strange and empty that +it appalled him. Late in the afternoon he came upon a little pile of +crushed clamshells on the shore of the stream. He sniffed at +them—turned away—went back, and sniffed again. It was where Gray Wolf +had made a last feast in the swamp before continuing south. But the +scent she had left behind was not strong enough to tell Kazan, and for a +second time he turned away. That night he slunk under a log, and cried +himself to sleep. Deep in the night he grieved in his uneasy slumber, +like a child. And day after day, and night after night, Kazan remained a +slinking creature of the big swamp, mourning for the one creature that +had brought him out of chaos into light, who had filled his world for +him, and who, in going from him, had taken from this world even the +things that Gray Wolf had lost in her blindness.</p> + + + + +<a name="27"></a> +<h2>Chapter XXVII</h2> + +<h3>The Call Of Sun Rock</h3> + +<p>In the golden glow of the autumn sun there came up the stream overlooked +by the Sun Rock one day a man, a woman and a child in a canoe. +Civilization had done for lovely Joan what it had done for many another +wild flower transplanted from the depths of the wilderness. Her cheeks +were thin. Her blue eyes had lost their luster. She coughed, and when +she coughed the man looked at her with love and fear in his eyes. But +now, slowly, the man had begun to see the transformation, and on the day +their canoe pointed up the stream and into the wonderful valley that had +been their home before the call of the distant city came to them, he +noted the flush gathering once more in her cheeks, the fuller redness of +her lips, and the gathering glow of happiness and content in her eyes. +He laughed softly as he saw these things, and he blessed the forests. In +the canoe she had leaned back, with her head almost against his +shoulder, and he stopped paddling to draw her to him, and run his +fingers through the soft golden masses of her hair.</p> + +<p>"You are happy again, Joan," he laughed joyously. "The doctors were +right. You are a part of the forests."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am happy," she whispered, and suddenly there came a little +thrill into her voice, and she pointed to a white finger of sand running +out into the stream. "Do you remember—years and years ago, it +seems—that Kazan left us here? <i>She</i> was on the sand over there, +calling to him. Do you remember?" There was a little tremble about her +mouth, and she added, "I wonder—where they—have gone."</p> + +<p>The cabin was as they had left it. Only the crimson <i>bakneesh</i> had grown +up about it, and shrubs and tall grass had sprung up near its walls. +Once more it took on life, and day by day the color came deeper into +Joan's cheeks, and her voice was filled with its old wild sweetness of +song. Joan's husband cleared the trails over his old trap-lines, and +Joan and the little Joan, who romped and talked now, transformed the +cabin into <i>home</i>. One night the man returned to the cabin late, and +when he came in there was a glow of excitement in Joan's blue eyes, and +a tremble in her voice when she greeted him.</p> + +<p>"Did you hear it?" she asked. "Did you hear—<i>the call</i>?"</p> + +<p>He nodded, stroking her soft hair.</p> + +<p>"I was a mile back in the creek swamp," he said. "I heard it!"</p> + +<p>Joan's hands clutched his arms.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't Kazan," she said. "I would recognize <i>his</i> voice. But it +seemed to me it was like the other—the call that came that morning from +the sand-bar, his <i>mate</i>?"</p> + +<p>The man was thinking. Joan's fingers tightened. She was breathing a +little quickly.</p> + +<p>"Will you promise me this?" she asked, "Will you promise me that you +will never hunt or trap for wolves?"</p> + +<p>"I had thought of that," he replied. "I thought of it—after I heard the +call. Yes, I will promise."</p> + +<p>Joan's arms stole up about his neck.</p> + +<p>"We loved Kazan," she whispered. "And you might kill him—or <i>her</i>"</p> + +<p>Suddenly she stopped. Both listened. The door was a little ajar, and to +them there came again the wailing mate-call of the wolf. Joan ran to the +door. Her husband followed. Together they stood silent, and with tense +breath Joan pointed over the starlit plain.</p> + +<p>"Listen! Listen!" she commanded. "It's her cry, <i>and it came from the +Sun Rock</i>!"</p> + +<p>She ran out into the night, forgetting that the man was close behind her +now, forgetting that little Joan was alone in her bed. And to them, from +miles and miles across the plain, there came a wailing cry in answer—a +cry that seemed a part of the wind, and that thrilled Joan until her +breath broke in a strange sob.</p> + +<p>Farther out on the plain she went and then stopped, with the golden glow +of the autumn moon and the stars shimmering in her hair and eyes. It was +many minutes before the cry came again, and then it was so near that +Joan put her hands to her mouth, and her cry rang out over the plain as +in the days of old.</p> + +<p>"<i>Kazan! Kazan! Kazan</i>!"</p> + +<p>At the top of the Sun Rock, Gray Wolf—gaunt and thinned by +starvation—heard the woman's cry, and the call that was in her throat +died away in a whine. And to the north a swiftly moving shadow stopped +for a moment, and stood like a thing of rock under the starlight. It was +Kazan. A strange fire leaped through his body. Every fiber of his brute +understanding was afire with the knowledge that here was <i>home</i>. It was +here, long ago, that he had lived, and loved, and fought—and all at +once the dreams that had grown faded and indistinct in his memory came +back to him as real living things. For, coming to him faintly over the +plain, <i>he heard Joan's voice!</i></p> + +<p>In the starlight Joan stood, tense and white, when from out of the pale +mists of the moon-glow he came to her, cringing on his belly, panting +and wind-run, and with a strange whining note in his throat. And as Joan +went to him, her arms reaching out, her lips sobbing his name over and +over again, the man stood and looked down upon them with the wonder of a +new and greater understanding in his face. He had no fear of the +wolf-dog now. And as Joan's arms hugged Kazan's great shaggy head up to +her he heard the whining gasping joy of the beast and the sobbing +whispering voice of the girl, and with tensely gripped hands he faced +the Sun Rock.</p> + +<p>"My Gawd," he breathed. "I believe—it's so—"</p> + +<p>As if in response to the thought in his mind, there came once more +across the plain Gray Wolf's mate-seeking cry of grief and of +loneliness. Swiftly as though struck by a lash Kazan was on his +feet—oblivious of Joan's touch, of her voice, of the presence of the +man. In another instant he was gone, and Joan flung herself against her +husband's breast, and almost fiercely took his face between her two +hands.</p> + +<p>"<i>Now</i> do you believe?" she cried pantingly. "<i>Now</i> do you believe in +the God of my world—the God I have lived with, the God that gives souls +to the wild things, the God that—that has brought—us, +all—together—once more—<i>home</i>!"</p> + +<p>His arms closed gently about her.</p> + +<p>"I believe, my Joan," he whispered.</p> + +<p>"And you understand—now—what it means, 'Thou shalt not kill'?"</p> + +<p>"Except that it brings us life—yes, I understand," he replied.</p> + +<p>Her warm soft hands stroked his face. Her blue eyes, filled with the +glory of the stars, looked up into his.</p> + +<p>"Kazan and <i>she</i>—you and I—and the baby! Are you sorry—that we came +back?" she asked.</p> + +<p>So close he drew her against his breast that she did not hear the words +he whispered in the soft warmth of her hair. And after that, for many +hours, they sat in the starlight in front of the cabin door. But they +did not hear again that lonely cry from the Sun Rock. Joan and her +husband understood.</p> + +<p>"He'll visit us again to-morrow," the man said at last. "Come, Joan, let +us go to bed."</p> + +<p>Together they entered the cabin.</p> + +<p>And that night, side by side, Kazan and Gray Wolf hunted again in the +moonlit plain.</p> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + +***** This file should be named 10084-h.htm or 10084-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/0/8/10084/ + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + + + diff --git a/old/10084.txt b/old/10084.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb25cf8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6819 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Kazan + +Author: James Oliver Curwood + +Release Date: November 14, 2003 [EBook #10084] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + + + + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +[Illustration: He heard Joan's voice] + +KAZAN + +BY JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD + +Author of +The Danger Trail, Etc. + +Illustrated by +Gayle Hoskins and Frank Hoffman + + +1914 + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE MIRACLE + + II. INTO THE NORTH + + III. McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + IV. FREE FROM BONDS + + V. THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + VI. JOAN + + VII. OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + VIII. THE GREAT CHANGE + + IX. THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + X. THE DAYS OF FIRE + + XI. ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + XII. THE RED DEATH + + XIII. THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + XIV. THE RIGHT OF FANG + + XV. A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + XVI. THE CALL + + XVII. HIS SON + +XVIII. THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + XIX. THE USURPERS + + XX. A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + XXI. A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + XXII. SANDY'S METHOD + +XXIII. PROFESSOR McGILL + + XXIV. ALONE IN DARKNESS + + XXV. THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + XXVI. AN EMPTY WORLD + +XXVII. THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE MIRACLE + + +Kazan lay mute and motionless, his gray nose between his forepaws, his +eyes half closed. A rock could have appeared scarcely less lifeless than +he; not a muscle twitched; not a hair moved; not an eyelid quivered. Yet +every drop of the wild blood in his splendid body was racing in a +ferment of excitement that Kazan had never before experienced; every +nerve and fiber of his wonderful muscles was tense as steel wire. +Quarter-strain wolf, three-quarters "husky," he had lived the four years +of his life in the wilderness. He had felt the pangs of starvation. He +knew what it meant to freeze. He had listened to the wailing winds of +the long Arctic night over the barrens. He had heard the thunder of the +torrent and the cataract, and had cowered under the mighty crash of the +storm. His throat and sides were scarred by battle, and his eyes were +red with the blister of the snows. He was called Kazan, the Wild Dog, +because he was a giant among his kind and as fearless, even, as the men +who drove him through the perils of a frozen world. + +He had never known fear--until now. He had never felt in him before the +desire to _run_--not even on that terrible day in the forest when he had +fought and killed the big gray lynx. He did not know what it was that +frightened him, but he knew that he was in another world, and that many +things in it startled and alarmed him. It was his first glimpse of +civilization. He wished that his master would come back into the strange +room where he had left him. It was a room filled with hideous things. +There were great human faces on the wall, but they did not move or +speak, but stared at him in a way he had never seen people look before. +He remembered having looked on a master who lay very quiet and very cold +in the snow, and he had sat back on his haunches and wailed forth the +death song; but these people on the walls looked alive, and yet seemed +dead. + +Suddenly Kazan lifted his ears a little. He heard steps, then low +voices. One of them was his master's voice. But the other--it sent a +little tremor through him! Once, so long ago that it must have been in +his puppyhood days, he seemed to have had a dream of a laugh that was +like the girl's laugh--a laugh that was all at once filled with a +wonderful happiness, the thrill of a wonderful love, and a sweetness +that made Kazan lift his head as they came in. He looked straight at +them, his red eyes gleaming. At once he knew that she must be dear to +his master, for his master's arm was about her. In the glow of the light +he saw that her hair was very bright, and that there was the color of +the crimson _bakneesh_ vine in her face and the blue of the _bakneesh_ +flower in her shining eyes. Suddenly she saw him, and with a little cry +darted toward him. + +"Stop!" shouted the man. "He's dangerous! Kazan--" + +She was on her knees beside him, all fluffy and sweet and beautiful, her +eyes shining wonderfully, her hands about to touch him. Should he cringe +back? Should he snap? Was she one of the things on the wall, and his +enemy? Should he leap at her white throat? He saw the man running +forward, pale as death. Then her hand fell upon his head and the touch +sent a thrill through him that quivered in every nerve of his body. With +both hands she turned up his head. Her face was very close, and he heard +her say, almost sobbingly: + +"And you are Kazan--dear old Kazan, my Kazan, my hero dog--who brought +him home to me when all the others had died! My Kazan--my hero!" + +And then, miracle of miracles, her face was crushed down against him, +and he felt her sweet warm touch. + +In those moments Kazan did not move. He scarcely breathed. It seemed a +long time before the girl lifted her face from him. And when she did, +there were tears in her blue eyes, and the man was standing above them, +his hands gripped tight, his jaws set. + +"I never knew him to let any one touch him--with their naked hand," he +said in a tense wondering voice. "Move back quietly, Isobel. Good +heaven--look at that!" + +Kazan whined softly, his bloodshot eyes on the girl's face. He wanted to +feel her hand again; he wanted to touch her face. Would they beat him +with a club, he wondered, if he _dared_! He meant no harm now. He would +kill for her. He cringed toward her, inch by inch, his eyes never +faltering. He heard what the man said--"Good heaven! Look at that!"--and +he shuddered. But no blow fell to drive him back. His cold muzzle +touched her filmy dress, and she looked at him, without moving, her wet +eyes blazing like stars. + +"See!" she whispered. "See!" + +Half an inch more--an inch, two inches, and he gave his big gray body a +hunch toward her. Now his muzzle traveled slowly upward--over her foot, +to her lap, and at last touched the warm little hand that lay there. His +eyes were still on her face: he saw a queer throbbing in her bare white +throat, and then a trembling of her lips as she looked up at the man +with a wonderful look. He, too, knelt down beside them, and put his arm +about the girl again, and patted the dog on his head. Kazan did not like +the man's touch. He mistrusted it, as nature had taught him to mistrust +the touch of all men's hands, but he permitted it because he saw that it +in some way pleased the girl. + +"Kazan, old boy, you wouldn't hurt her, would you?" said his master +softly. "We both love her, don't we, boy? Can't help it, can we? And +she's ours, Kazan, all _ours_! She belongs to you and to me, and we're +going to take care of her all our lives, and if we ever have to we'll +fight for her like hell--won't we? Eh, Kazan, old boy?" + +For a long time after they left him where he was lying on the rug, +Kazan's eyes did not leave the girl. He watched and listened--and all +the time there grew more and more in him the craving to creep up to them +and touch the girl's hand, or her dress, or her foot. After a time his +master said something, and with a little laugh the girl jumped up and +ran to a big, square, shining thing that stood crosswise in a corner, +and which had a row of white teeth longer than his own body. He had +wondered what those teeth were for. The girl's fingers touched them now, +and all the whispering of winds that he had ever heard, all the music of +the waterfalls and the rapids and the trilling of birds in spring-time, +could not equal the sounds they made. It was his first music. For a +moment it startled and frightened him, and then he felt the fright pass +away and a strange tingling in his body. He wanted to sit back on his +haunches and howl, as he had howled at the billion stars in the skies on +cold winter nights. But something kept him from doing that. It was the +girl. Slowly he began slinking toward her. He felt the eyes of the man +upon him, and stopped. Then a little more--inches at a time, with his +throat and jaw straight out along the floor! He was half-way to +her--half-way across the room--when the wonderful sounds grew very soft +and very low. + +"Go on!" he heard the man urge in a low quick voice. "Go on! Don't +stop!" + +The girl turned her head, saw Kazan cringing there on the floor, and +continued to play. The man was still looking, but his eyes could not +keep Kazan back now. He went nearer, still nearer, until at last his +outreaching muzzle touched her dress where it lay piled on the floor. +And then--he lay trembling, for she had begun to sing. He had heard a +Cree woman crooning in front of her tepee; he had heard the wild chant +of the caribou song--but he had never heard anything like this +wonderful sweetness that fell from the lips of the girl. He forgot his +master's presence now. Quietly, cringingly, so that she would not know, +he lifted his head. He saw her looking at him; there was something in +her wonderful eyes that gave him confidence, and he laid his head in her +lap. For the second time he felt the touch of a woman's hand, and he +closed his eyes with a long sighing breath. The music stopped. There +came a little fluttering sound above him, like a laugh and a sob in one. +He heard his master cough. + +"I've always loved the old rascal--but I never thought he'd do that," he +said; and his voice sounded queer to Kazan. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +INTO THE NORTH + + +Wonderful days followed for Kazan. He missed the forests and deep snows. +He missed the daily strife of keeping his team-mates in trace, the +yapping at his heels, the straight long pull over the open spaces and +the barrens. He missed the "Koosh--koosh--Hoo-yah!" of the driver, the +spiteful snap of his twenty-foot caribou-gut whip, and that yelping and +straining behind him that told him he had his followers in line. But +something had come to take the place of that which he missed. It was in +the room, in the air all about him, even when the girl or his master was +not near. Wherever she had been, he found the presence of that strange +thing that took away his loneliness. It was the woman scent, and +sometimes it made him whine softly when the girl herself was actually +with him. He was not lonely, nights, when he should have been out +howling at the stars. He was not lonely, because one night he prowled +about until he found a certain door, and when the girl opened that door +in the morning she found him curled up tight against it. She had reached +down and hugged him, the thick smother of her long hair falling all over +him in a delightful perfume; thereafter she placed a rug before the door +for him to sleep on. All through the long nights he knew that she was +just beyond the door, and he was content. Each day he thought less and +less of the wild places, and more of her. + +Then there came the beginning of the change. There was a strange hurry +and excitement around him, and the girl paid less attention to him. He +grew uneasy. He sniffed the change in the air, and he began to study his +master's face. Then there came the morning, very early, when the babiche +collar and the iron chain were fastened to him again. Not until he had +followed his master out through the door and into the street did he +begin to understand. They were sending him away! He sat suddenly back on +his haunches and refused to budge. + +"Come, Kazan," coaxed the man. "Come on, boy." + +He hung back and showed his white fangs. He expected the lash of a whip +or the blow of a club, but neither came. His master laughed and took him +back to the house. When they left it again, the girl was with them and +walked with her hand touching his head. It was she who persuaded him to +leap up through a big dark hole into the still darker interior of a car, +and it was she who lured him to the darkest corner of all, where his +master fastened his chain. Then they went out, laughing like two +children. For hours after that, Kazan lay still and tense, listening to +the queer rumble of wheels under him. Several times those wheels +stopped, and he heard voices outside. At last he was sure that he heard +a familiar voice, and he strained at his chain and whined. The closed +door slid back. A man with a lantern climbed in, followed by his master. +He paid no attention to them, but glared out through the opening into +the gloom of night. He almost broke loose when he leaped down upon the +white snow, but when he saw no one there, he stood rigid, sniffing the +air. Over him were the stars he had howled at all his life, and about +him were the forests, black and silent, shutting them in like a wall. +Vainly he sought for that one scent that was missing, and Thorpe heard +the low note of grief in his shaggy throat. He took the lantern and held +it above his head, at the same time loosening his hold on the leash. At +that signal there came a voice from out of the night. It came from +behind them, and Kazan whirled so suddenly that the loosely held chain +slipped from the man's hand. He saw the glow of other lanterns. And +then, once more, the voice-- + +"Kaa-aa-zan!" + +He was off like a bolt. Thorpe laughed to himself as he followed. + +"The old pirate!" he chuckled. + +When he came to the lantern-lighted space back of the caboose, Thorpe +found Kazan crouching down at a woman's feet. It was Thorpe's wife. She +smiled triumphantly at him as he came up out of the gloom. + +"You've won!" he laughed, not unhappily. "I'd have wagered my last +dollar he wouldn't do that for any voice on earth. You've won! Kazan, +you brute, I've lost you!" + +His face suddenly sobered as Isobel stooped to pick up the end of the +chain. + +"He's yours, Issy," he added quickly, "but you must let me care for him +until--we _know_. Give me the chain. I won't trust him even now. He's a +wolf. I've seen him take an Indian's hand off at a single snap. I've +seen him tear out another dog's jugular in one leap. He's an outlaw--a +bad dog--in spite of the fact that he hung to me like a hero and brought +me out alive. I can't trust him. Give me the chain--" + +He did not finish. With the snarl of a wild beast Kazan had leaped to +his feet. His lips drew up and bared his long fangs. His spine +stiffened, and with a sudden cry of warning, Thorpe dropped a hand to +the revolver at his belt. + +Kazan paid no attention to him. Another form had approached out of the +night, and stood now in the circle of illumination made by the lanterns. +It was McCready, who was to accompany Thorpe and his young wife back to +the Red River camp, where Thorpe was in charge of the building of the +new Trans-continental. The man was straight, powerfully built and clean +shaven. His jaw was so square that it was brutal, and there was a glow +in his eyes that was almost like the passion in Kazan's as he looked at +Isobel. + +Her red and white stocking-cap had slipped free of her head and was +hanging over her shoulder. The dull blaze of the lanterns shone in the +warm glow of her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, suddenly +turned to him, were as blue as the bluest _bakneesh_ flower and glowed +like diamonds. McCready shifted his gaze, and instantly her hand fell on +Kazan's head. For the first time the dog did not seem to feel her touch. +He still snarled at McCready, the rumbling menace in his throat growing +deeper. Thorpe's wife tugged at the chain. + +"Down, Kazan--down!" she commanded. + +At the sound of her voice he relaxed. + +"Down!" she repeated, and her free hand fell on his head again. He slunk +to her feet. But his lips were still drawn back. Thorpe was watching +him. He wondered at the deadly venom that shot from the wolfish eyes, +and looked at McCready. The big guide had uncoiled his long dog-whip. A +strange look had come into his face. He was staring hard at Kazan. +Suddenly he leaned forward, with both hands on his knees, and for a +tense moment or two he seemed to forget that Isobel Thorpe's wonderful +blue eyes were looking at him. + +"Hoo-koosh, Pedro--_charge_!" + +That one word--_charge_--was taught only to the dogs in the service of +the Northwest Mounted Police. Kazan did not move. McCready straightened, +and quick as a shot sent the long lash of his whip curling out into the +night with a crack like a pistol report. + +"Charge, Pedro--_charge_!" + +The rumble in Kazan's throat deepened to a snarling growl, but not a +muscle of his body moved. McCready turned to Thorpe. + +"I could have sworn that I knew that dog," he said. "If it's Pedro, he's +_bad_!" + +Thorpe was taking the chain. Only the girl saw the look that came for an +instant into McCready's face. It made her shiver. A few minutes before, +when the train had first stopped at Les Pas, she had offered her hand +to this man and she had seen the same thing then. But even as she +shuddered she recalled the many things her husband had told her of the +forest people. She had grown to love them, to admire their big rough +manhood and loyal hearts, before he had brought her among them; and +suddenly she smiled at McCready, struggling to overcome that thrill of +fear and dislike. + +"He doesn't like you," she laughed at him softly. "Won't you make +friends with him?" + +She drew Kazan toward him, with Thorpe holding the end of the chain. +McCready came to her side as she bent over the dog. His back was to +Thorpe as he hunched down. Isobel's bowed head was within a foot of his +face. He could see the glow in her cheek and the pouting curve of her +mouth as she quieted the low rumbling in Kazan's throat. Thorpe stood +ready to pull back on the chain, but for a moment McCready was between +him and his wife, and he could not see McCready's face. The man's eyes +were not on Kazan. He was staring at the girl. + +"You're brave," he said. "I don't dare do that. He would take off my +hand!" + +He took the lantern from Thorpe and led the way to a narrow snow-path +branching off, from the track. Hidden back in the thick spruce was the +camp that Thorpe had left a fortnight before. There were two tents there +now in place of the one that he and his guide had used. A big fire was +burning in front of them. Close to the fire was a long sledge, and +fastened to trees just within the outer circle of firelight Kazan saw +the shadowy forms and gleaming eyes of his team-mates. He stood stiff +and motionless while Thorpe fastened him to a sledge. Once more he was +back in his forests--and in command. His mistress was laughing and +clapping her hands delightedly in the excitement of the strange and +wonderful life of which she had now become a part. Thorpe had thrown +back the flap of their tent, and she was entering ahead of him. She did +not look back. She spoke no word to him. He whined, and turned his red +eyes on McCready. + +In the tent Thorpe was saying: + +"I'm sorry old Jackpine wouldn't go back with us, Issy. He drove me +down, but for love or money I couldn't get him to return. He's a Mission +Indian, and I'd give a month's salary to have you see him handle the +dogs. I'm not sure about this man McCready. He's a queer chap, the +Company's agent here tells me, and knows the woods like a book. But dogs +don't like a stranger. Kazan isn't going to take to him worth a cent!" + +Kazan heard the girl's voice, and stood rigid and motionless listening +to it. He did not hear or see McCready when he came up stealthily behind +him. The man's voice came as suddenly as a shot at his heels. + +"_Pedro_!" + +In an instant Kazan cringed as if touched by a lash. + +"Got you that time--didn't I, you old devil!" whispered McCready, his +face strangely pale in the firelight. "Changed your name, eh? But I +_got_ you--didn't I?" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +McCREADY PAYS THE DEBT + + +For a long time after he had uttered those words McCready sat in silence +beside the fire. Only for a moment or two at a time did his eyes leave +Kazan. After a little, when he was sure that Thorpe and Isobel had +retired for the night, he went into his own tent and returned with a +flask of whisky. During the next half-hour he drank frequently. Then he +went over and sat on the end of the sledge, just beyond the reach of +Kazan's chain. + +"Got you, didn't I?" he repeated, the effect of the liquor beginning to +show in the glitter of his eyes. "Wonder who changed your name, Pedro. +And how the devil did _he_ come by you? Ho, ho, if you could only +talk--" + +They heard Thorpe's voice inside the tent. It was followed by a low +girlish peal of laughter, and McCready jerked himself erect. His face +blazed suddenly red, and he rose to his feet, dropping the flask in his +coat pocket. Walking around the fire, he tiptoed cautiously to the +shadow of a tree close to the tent and stood there for many minutes +listening. His eyes burned with a fiery madness when he returned to the +sledge and Kazan. It was midnight before he went into his own tent. + +In the warmth of the fire, Kazan's eyes slowly closed. He slumbered +uneasily, and his brain was filled with troubled pictures. At times he +was fighting, and his jaws snapped. At others he was straining at the +end of his chain, with McCready or his mistress just out of reach. He +felt the gentle touch of the girl's hand again and heard the wonderful +sweetness of her voice as she sang to him and his master, and his body +trembled and twitched with the thrills that had filled him that night. +And then the picture changed. He was running at the head of a splendid +team--six dogs of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police--and his master was +calling him Pedro! The scene shifted. They were in camp. His master was +young and smooth-faced and he helped from the sledge another man whose +hands were fastened in front of him by curious black rings. Again it was +later--and he was lying before a great fire. His master was sitting +opposite him, with his back to a tent, and as he looked, there came out +of the tent the man with the black rings--only now the rings were gone +and his hands were free, and in one of them he carried a heavy club. He +heard the terrible blow of the club as it fell on his master's head--and +the sound of it aroused him from his restless sleep. + +He sprang to his feet, his spine stiffening and a snarl in his throat. +The fire had died down and the camp was in the darker gloom that +precedes dawn. Through that gloom Kazan saw McCready. Again he was +standing close to the tent of his mistress, and he knew now that this +was the man who had worn the black iron rings, and that it was he who +had beaten him with whip and club for many long days after he had killed +his master. McCready heard the menace in his throat and came back +quickly to the fire. He began to whistle and draw the half-burned logs +together, and as the fire blazed up afresh he shouted to awaken Thorp +and Isobel. In a few minutes Thorpe appeared at the tent-flap and his +wife followed him out. Her loose hair rippled in billows of gold about +her shoulders and she sat down on the sledge, close to Kazan, and began +brushing it. McCready came up behind her and fumbled among the packages +on the sledge. As if by accident one of his hands buried itself for an +instant in the rich tresses that flowed down her back. She did not at +first feel the caressing touch of his fingers, and Thorpe's back was +toward them. + +Only Kazan saw the stealthy movement of the hand, the fondling clutch of +the fingers in her hair, and the mad passion burning in the eyes of the +man. Quicker than a lynx, the dog had leaped the length of his chain +across the sledge. McCready sprang back just in time, and as Kazan +reached the end of his chain he was jerked back so that his body struck +sidewise against the girl. Thorpe had turned in time to see the end of +the leap. He believed that Kazan had sprung at Isobel, and in his horror +no word or cry escaped his lips as he dragged her from where she had +half fallen over the sledge. He saw that she was not hurt, and he +reached for his revolver. It was in his holster in the tent. At his feet +was McCready's whip, and in the passion of the moment he seized it and +sprang upon Kazan. The dog crouched in the snow. He made no move to +escape or to attack. Only once in his life could he remember having +received a beating like that which Thorpe inflicted upon him now. But +not a whimper or a growl escaped him. + +[Illustration: "Not another blow!"] + +And then, suddenly, his mistress ran forward and caught the whip poised +above Thorpe's head. + +"Not another blow!" she cried, and something in her voice held him from +striking. McCready did not hear what she said then, but a strange look +came into Thorpe's eyes, and without a word he followed his wife into +their tent. + +"Kazan did not leap at me," she whispered, and she was trembling with a +sudden excitement. Her face was deathly white. "That man was behind me," +she went on, clutching her husband by the arm. "I felt him touch me--and +then Kazan sprang. He wouldn't bite _me_. It's the _man_! There's +something--wrong--" + +She was almost sobbing, and Thorpe drew her close in his arms. + +"I hadn't thought before--but it's strange," he said. "Didn't McCready +say something about knowing the dog? It's possible. Perhaps he's had +Kazan before and abused him in a way that the dog has not forgotten. +To-morrow I'll find out. But until I know--will you promise to keep away +from Kazan?" + +Isobel gave the promise. When they came out from the tent Kazan lifted +his great head. The stinging lash had closed one of his eyes and his +mouth was dripping blood. Isobel gave a low sob, but did not go near +him. Half blinded, he knew that his mistress had stopped his punishment, +and he whined softly, and wagged his thick tail in the snow. + +Never had he felt so miserable as through the long hard hours of the day +that followed, when he broke the trail for his team-mates into the +North. One of his eyes was closed and filled with stinging fire, and his +body was sore from the blows of the caribou lash. But it was not +physical pain that gave the sullen droop to his head and robbed his body +of that keen quick alertness of the lead-dog--the commander of his +mates. It was his spirit. For the first time in his life, it was broken. +McCready had beaten him--long ago; his master had beaten him; and +during all this day their voices were fierce and vengeful in his ears. +But it was his mistress who hurt him most. She held aloof from him, +always beyond they reach of his leash; and when they stopped to rest, +and again in camp, she looked at him with strange and wondering eyes, +and did not speak. She, too, was ready to beat him. He believed that, +and so slunk away from her and crouched on his belly in the snow. With +him, a broken spirit meant a broken heart, and that night he lurked in +one of the deepest shadows about the camp-fire and grieved alone. None +knew that it was grief--unless it was the girl. She did not move toward +him. She did not speak to him. But she watched him closely--and studied +him hardest when he was looking at McCready. + +Later, after Thorpe and his wife had gone into their tent, it began to +snow, and the effect of the snow upon McCready puzzled Kazan. The man +was restless, and he drank frequently from the flask that he had used +the night before. In the firelight his face grew redder and redder, and +Kazan could see the strange gleam of his teeth as he gazed at the tent +in which his mistress was sleeping. Again and again he went close to +that tent, and listened. Twice he heard movement. The last time, it was +the sound of Thorpe's deep breathing. McCready hurried back to the fire +and turned his face straight up to the sky. The snow was falling so +thickly that when he lowered his face he blinked and wiped his eyes. +Then he went out into the gloom and bent low over the trail they had +made a few hours before. It was almost obliterated by the falling snow. +Another hour and there would be no trail--nothing the next day to tell +whoever might pass that they had come this way. By morning it would +cover everything, even the fire, if he allowed it to die down. McCready +drank again, out in the darkness. Low words of an insane joy burst from +his lips. His head was hot with a drunken fire. His heart beat madly, +but scarcely more furiously than did Kazan's when the dog saw that +McCready was returning _with a club_! The club he placed on end against +a tree. Then he took a lantern from the sledge and lighted it. He +approached Thorpe's tent-flap, the lantern in his hand. + +"Ho, Thorpe--Thorpe!" he called. + +There was no answer. He could hear Thorpe breathing. He drew the flap +aside a little, and raised his voice. + +"Thorpe!" + +Still there was no movement inside, and he untied the flap strings and +thrust in his lantern. The light flashed on Isobel's golden head, and +McCready stared at it, his eyes burning like red coals, until he saw +that Thorpe was awakening. Quickly he dropped the flap and rustled it +from the outside. + +"Ho, Thorpe!--Thorpe!" he called again. + +This time Thorpe replied. + +"Hello, McCready--is that you?" + +McCready drew the flap back a little, and spoke in a low voice. + +"Yes. Can you come out a minute? Something's happening out in the woods. +Don't wake up your wife!" + +He drew back and waited. A minute later Thorpe came quietly out of the +tent. McCready pointed into the thick spruce. + +"I'll swear there's some one nosing around the camp," he said. "I'm +certain that I saw a man out there a few minutes ago, when I went for a +log. It's a good night for stealing dogs. Here--you take the lantern! If +I wasn't clean fooled, we'll find a trail in the snow." + +He gave Thorpe the lantern and picked up the heavy club. A growl rose in +Kazan's throat, but he choked it back. He wanted to snarl forth his +warning, to leap at the end of his leash, but he knew that if he did +that, they would return and beat him. So he lay still, trembling and +shivering, and whining softly. He watched them until they +disappeared--and then waited--listened. At last he heard the crunch of +snow. He was not surprised to see McCready come back alone. He had +expected him to return alone. For he knew what a club meant! + +McCready's face was terrible now. It was like a beast's. He was hatless. +Kazan slunk deeper in his shadow at the low horrible laugh that fell +from his lips--for the man still held the club. In a moment he dropped +that, and approached the tent. He drew back the flap and peered in. +Thorpe's wife was sleeping, and as quietly as a cat he entered and hung +the lantern on a nail in the tent-pole. His movement did not awaken her, +and for a few moments he stood there, staring--staring. + +Outside, crouching in the deep shadow, Kazan tried to fathom the meaning +of these strange things that were happening. Why had his master and +McCready gone out into the forest? Why had not his master returned? It +was his master, and not McCready, who belonged in that tent. Then why +was McCready there? He watched McCready as he entered, and suddenly the +dog was on his feet, his back tense and bristling, his limbs rigid. He +saw McCready's huge shadow on the canvas, and a moment later there came +a strange piercing cry. In the wild terror of that cry he recognized +_her_ voice--and he leaped toward the tent. The leash stopped him, +choking the snarl in his throat. He saw the shadows struggling now, and +there came cry after cry. She was calling to his master, and with his +master's name she was calling _him_! + +"_Kazan_--_Kazan_--" + +He leaped again, and was thrown upon his back. A second and a third +time he sprang the length of the leash into the night, and the babiche +cord about his neck cut into his flesh like a knife. He stopped for an +instant, gasping for breath. The shadows were still fighting. Now they +were upright! Now they were crumpling down! With a fierce snarl he flung +his whole weight once more at the end of the chain. There was a snap, as +the thong about his neck gave way. + +In half a dozen bounds Kazan made the tent and rushed under the flap. +With a snarl he was at McCready's throat. The first snap of his powerful +jaws was death, but he did not know that. He knew only that his mistress +was there, and that he was fighting for her. There came one choking +gasping cry that ended with a terrible sob; it was McCready. The man +sank from his knees upon his back, and Kazan thrust his fangs deeper +into his enemy's throat; he felt the warm blood. + +The dog's mistress was calling to him now. She was pulling at his shaggy +neck. But he would not loose his hold--not for a long time. When he did, +his mistress looked down once upon the man and covered her face with +her hands. Then she sank down upon the blankets. She was very still. Her +face and hands were cold, and Kazan muzzled them tenderly. Her eyes were +closed. He snuggled up close against her, with his ready jaws turned +toward the dead man. Why was she so still, he wondered? + +A long time passed, and then she moved. Her eyes opened. Her hand +touched him. + +Then he heard a step outside. + +It was his master, and with that old thrill of fear--fear of the +club--he went swiftly to the door. Yes, there was his master in the +firelight--and in his hand he held the club. He was coming slowly, +almost falling at each step, and his face was red with blood. But he had +_the club_! He would beat him again--beat him terribly for hurting +McCready; so Kazan slipped quietly under the tent-flap and stole off +into the shadows. From out the gloom of the thick spruce he looked back, +and a low whine of love and grief rose and died softly in his throat. +They would beat him always now--after _that_. Even _she_ would beat him. +They would hunt him down, and beat him when they found him. + +From out of the glow of the fire he turned his wolfish head to the +depths of the forest. There were no clubs or stinging lashes out in that +gloom. They would never find him there. + +For another moment he wavered. And then, as silently as one of the wild +creatures whose blood was partly his, he stole away into the blackness +of the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FREE FROM BONDS + + +There was a low moaning of the wind in the spruce-tops as Kazan slunk +off into the blackness and mystery of the forest. For hours he lay near +the camp, his red and blistered eyes gazing steadily at the tent wherein +the terrible thing had happened a little while before. + +He knew now what death was. He could tell it farther than man. He could +smell it in the air. And he knew that there was death all about him, and +that he was the cause of it. He lay on his belly in the deep snow and +shivered, and the three-quarters of him that was dog whined in a +grief-stricken way, while the quarter that was wolf still revealed +itself menacingly in his fangs, and in the vengeful glare of his eyes. + +Three times the man--his master--came out of the tent, and shouted +loudly, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" + +Three times the woman came with him. In the firelight Kazan could see +her shining hair streaming about her, as he had seen it in the tent, +when he had leaped up and killed the other man. In her blue eyes there +was the same wild terror, and her face was white as the snow. And the +second and third time, she too called, "Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!"--and all +that part of him that was dog, and not wolf, trembled joyously at the +sound of her voice, and he almost crept in to take his beating. But fear +of the club was the greater, and he held back, hour after hour, until +now it was silent again in the tent, and he could no longer see their +shadows, and the fire was dying down. + +Cautiously he crept out from the thick gloom, working his way on his +belly toward the packed sledge, and what remained of the burned logs. +Beyond that sledge, hidden in the darkness of the trees, was the body of +the man he had killed, covered with a blanket. Thorpe, his master, had +dragged it there. + +He lay down, with his nose to the warm coals and his eyes leveled +between his forepaws, straight at the closed tent-flap. He meant to +keep awake, to watch, to be ready to slink off into the forest at the +first movement there. But a warmth was rising from out of the gray ash +of the fire-bed, and his eyes closed. Twice--three times--he fought +himself back into watchfulness; but the last time his eyes came only +half open, and closed heavily again. + +And now, in his sleep, he whined softly, and the splendid muscles of his +legs and shoulders twitched, and sudden shuddering ripples ran along his +tawny spine. Thorpe, who was in the tent, if he had seen him, would have +known that he was dreaming. And Thorpe's wife, whose golden head lay +close against his breast, and who shuddered and trembled now and then +even as Kazan was doing, would have known what he was dreaming about. + +In his sleep he was leaping again at the end of his chain. His jaws +snapped like castanets of steel,--and the sound awakened him, and he +sprang to his feet, his spine as stiff as a brush, and his snarling +fangs bared like ivory knives. He had awakened just in time. There was +movement in the tent. His master was awake, and if he did not escape-- + +He sped swiftly into the thick spruce, and paused, flat and hidden, with +only his head showing from behind a tree. He knew that his master would +not spare him. Three times Thorpe had beaten him for snapping at +McCready. The last time he would have shot him if the girl had not saved +him. And now he had torn McCready's throat. He had taken the life from +him, and his master would not spare him. Even the woman could not save +him. + +Kazan was sorry that his master had returned, dazed and bleeding, after +he had torn McCready's jugular. Then he would have had her always. She +would have loved him. She did love him. And he would have followed her, +and fought for her always, and died for her when the time came. But +Thorpe had come in from the forest again, and Kazan had slunk away +quickly--for Thorpe meant to him what all men meant to him now: the +club, the whip and the strange things that spat fire and death. And +now-- + +Thorpe had come out from the tent. It was approaching dawn, and in his +hand he held a rifle. A moment later the girl came out, and her hand +caught the man's arm. They looked toward the thing covered by the +blanket. Then she spoke to Thorpe and he suddenly straightened and +threw back his head. + +"H-o-o-o-o--Kazan--Kazan--Kazan!" he called. + +A shiver ran through Kazan. The man was trying to inveigle him back. He +had in his hand the thing that killed. + +"Kazan--Kazan--Ka-a-a-a-zan!" he shouted again. + +Kazan sneaked cautiously back from the tree. He knew that distance meant +nothing to the cold thing of death that Thorpe held in his hand. He +turned his head once, and whined softly, and for an instant a great +longing filled his reddened eyes as he saw the last of the girl. + +He knew, now, that he was leaving her forever, and there was an ache in +his heart that had never been there before, a pain that was not of the +club or whip, of cold or hunger, but which was greater than them all, +and which filled him with a desire to throw back his head and cry out +his loneliness to the gray emptiness of the sky. + +Back in the camp the girl's voice quivered. + +"He is gone." + +The man's strong voice choked a little. + +"Yes, he is gone. _He knew_--and I didn't. I'd give--a year of my +life--if I hadn't whipped him yesterday and last night. He won't come +back." + +Isobel Thorpe's hand tightened on his arm. + +"He will!" she cried. "He won't leave me. He loved me, if he was savage +and terrible. And he knows that I love him. He'll come back--" + +"Listen!" + +From deep in the forest there came a long wailing howl, filled with a +plaintive sadness. It was Kazan's farewell to the woman. + +After that cry Kazan sat for a long time on his haunches, sniffing the +new freedom of the air, and watching the deep black pits in the forest +about him, as they faded away before dawn. 'Now and then, since the day +the traders had first bought him and put him into sledge-traces away +over on the Mackenzie, he had often thought of this freedom longingly, +the wolf blood in him urging him to take it. But he had never quite +dared. It thrilled him now. There were no clubs here, no whips, none of +the man-beasts whom he had first learned to distrust, and then to hate. +It was his misfortune--that quarter-strain of wolf; and the clubs, +instead of subduing him, had added to the savagery that was born in him. +Men had been his worst enemies. They had beaten him time and again until +he was almost dead. They called him "bad," and stepped wide of him, and +never missed the chance to snap a whip over his back. His body was +covered with scars they had given him. + +He had never felt kindness, or love, until the first night the woman had +put her warm little hand on his head, and had snuggled her face close +down to his, while Thorpe--her husband--had cried out in horror. He had +almost buried his fangs in her white flesh, but in an instant her gentle +touch, and her sweet voice, had sent through him that wonderful thrill +that was his first knowledge of love. And now it was a man who was +driving him from her, away from the hand that had never held a club or a +whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper into the forest. + +He came to the edge of a swamp as day broke. For a time he had been +filled with a strange uneasiness, and light did not quite dispel it. At +last he was free of men. He could detect nothing that reminded him of +their hated presence in the air. But neither could he smell the presence +of other dogs, of the sledge, the fire, of companionship and food, and +so far back as he could remember they had always been a part of his +life. + +Here it was very quiet. The swamp lay in a hollow between two +ridge-mountains, and the spruce and cedar grew low and thick--so thick +that there was almost no snow under them, and day was like twilight. Two +things he began to miss more than all others--food and company. Both the +wolf and the dog that was in him demanded the first, and that part of +him that was dog longed for the latter. To both desires the wolf blood +that was strong in him rose responsively. It told him that somewhere in +this silent world between the two ridges there was companionship, and +that all he had to do to find it was to sit back on his haunches, and +cry out his loneliness. More than once something trembled in his deep +chest, rose in his throat, and ended there in a whine. It was the wolf +howl, not yet quite born. + +Food came more easily than voice. Toward midday he cornered a big white +rabbit under a log, and killed it. The warm flesh and blood was better +than frozen fish, or tallow and bran, and the feast he had gave him +confidence. That afternoon he chased many rabbits, and killed two more. +Until now, he had never known the delight of pursuing and killing at +will, even though he did not eat all he killed. + +But there was no fight in the rabbits. They died too easily. They were +very sweet and tender to eat, when he was hungry, but the first thrill +of killing them passed away after a time. He wanted something bigger. He +no longer slunk along as if he were afraid, or as if he wanted to remain +hidden. He held his head up. His back bristled. His tail swung free and +bushy, like a wolf's. Every hair in his body quivered with the electric +energy of life and action. He traveled north and west. It was the call +of early days--the days away up on the Mackenzie. The Mackenzie was a +thousand miles away. + +He came upon many trails in the snow that day, and sniffed the scents +left by the hoofs of moose and caribou, and the fur-padded feet of a +lynx. He followed a fox, and the trail led him to a place shut in by +tall spruce, where the snow was beaten down and reddened with blood. +There was an owl's head, feathers, wings and entrails lying here, and he +knew that there were other hunters abroad besides himself. + +Toward evening he came upon tracks in the snow that were very much like +his own. They were quite fresh, and there was a warm scent about them +that made him whine, and filled him again with that desire to fall back +upon his haunches and send forth the wolf-cry. This desire grew stronger +in him as the shadows of night deepened in the forest. He had traveled +all day, but he was not tired. There was something about night, now that +there were no men near, that exhilarated him strangely. The wolf blood +in him ran swifter and swifter. To-night it was clear. The sky was +filled with stars. The moon rose. And at last he settled back in the +snow and turned his head straight up to the spruce-tops, and the wolf +came out of him in a long mournful cry which quivered through the still +night for miles. + +For a long time he sat and listened after that howl. He had found +voice--a voice with a strange new note in it, and it gave him still +greater confidence. He had expected an answer, but none came. He had +traveled in the face of the wind, and as he howled, a bull moose crashed +through the scrub timber ahead of him, his horns rattling against the +trees like the tattoo of a clear birch club as he put distance between +himself and that cry. + +Twice Kazan howled before he went on, and he found joy in the practise +of that new note. He came then to the foot of a rough ridge, and turned +up out of the swamp to the top of it. The stars and the moon were nearer +to him there, and on the other side of the ridge he looked down upon a +great sweeping plain, with a frozen lake glistening in the moonlight, +and a white river leading from it off into timber that was neither so +thick nor so black as that in the swamp. + +And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped. From +far off in the plain there came a cry. It was _his_ cry--the wolf-cry. +His jaws snapped. His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his +throat. He wanted to reply, but some strange instinct urged him not to. +That instinct of the wild was already becoming master of him. In the +air, in the whispering of the spruce-tops, in the moon and the stars +themselves, there breathed a spirit which told him that what he had +heard was the wolf-cry, but that it was not the wolf _call_. + +The other came an hour later, clear and distinct, that same wailing howl +at the beginning--but ending in a staccato of quick sharp yelps that +stirred his blood at once into a fiery excitement that it had never +known before. The same instinct told him that this was the call--the +hunt-cry. It urged him to come quickly. A few moments later it came +again, and this time there was a reply from close down along the foot of +the ridge, and another from so far away that Kazan could scarcely hear +it. The hunt-pack was gathering for the night chase; but Kazan sat quiet +and trembling. + +He was not afraid, but he was not ready to go. The ridge seemed to split +the world for him. Down there it was new, and strange, and without men. +From the other side something seemed pulling him back, and suddenly he +turned his head and gazed back through the moonlit space behind him, and +whined. It was the dog-whine now. The woman was back there. He could +hear her voice. He could feel the touch of her soft hand. He could see +the laughter in her face and eyes, the laughter that had made him warm +and happy. She was calling to him through the forests, and he was torn +between desire to answer that call, and desire to go down into the +plain. For he could also see many men waiting for him with clubs, and he +could hear the cracking of whips, and feel the sting of their lashes. + +For a long time he remained on the top of the ridge that divided his +world. And then, at last, he turned and went down into the plain. + +All that night he kept close to the hunt-pack, but never quite +approached it. This was fortunate for him. He still bore the scent of +traces, and of man. The pack would have torn him into pieces. The first +instinct of the wild is that of self-preservation. It may have been +this, a whisper back through the years of savage forebears, that made +Kazan roll in the snow now and then where the feet of the pack had trod +the thickest. + +That night the pack killed a caribou on the edge of the lake, and +feasted until nearly dawn. Kazan hung in the face of the wind. The smell +of blood and of warm flesh tickled his nostrils, and his sharp ears +could catch the cracking of bones. But the instinct was stronger than +the temptation. + +Not until broad day, when the pack had scattered far and wide over the +plain, did he go boldly to the scene of the kill. He found nothing but +an area of blood-reddened snow, covered with bones, entrails and torn +bits of tough hide. But it was enough, and he rolled in it, and buried +his nose in what was left, and remained all that day close to it, +saturating himself with the scent of it. + +That night, when the moon and the stars came out again, he sat back with +fear and hesitation no longer in him, and announced himself to his new +comrades of the great plain. + +The pack hunted again that night, or else it was a new pack that started +miles to the south, and came up with a doe caribou to the big frozen +lake. The night was almost as clear as day, and from the edge of the +forest Kazan first saw the caribou run out on the lake a third of a mile +away. The pack was about a dozen strong, and had already split into the +fatal horseshoe formation, the two leaders running almost abreast of the +kill, and slowly closing in. + +With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out into the moonlight. He was directly +in the path of the fleeing doe, and bore down upon her with lightning +speed. Two hundred yards away the doe saw him, and swerved to the right, +and the leader on that side met her with open jaws. Kazan was in with +the second leader, and leaped at the doe's soft throat. In a snarling +mass the pack closed in from behind, and the doe went down, with Kazan +half under her body, his fangs sunk deep in her jugular. She lay heavily +on him, but he did not lose his hold. It was his first big kill. His +blood ran like fire. He snarled between his clamped teeth. + +Not until the last quiver had left the body over him did he pull himself +out from under her chest and forelegs. He had killed a rabbit that day +and was not hungry. So he sat back in the snow and waited, while the +ravenous pack tore at the dead doe. After a little he came nearer, nosed +in between two of them, and was nipped for his intrusion. + +As Kazan drew back, still hesitating to mix with his wild brothers, a +big gray form leaped out of the pack and drove straight for his throat. +He had just time to throw his shoulder to the attack, and for a moment +the two rolled over and over in the snow. They were up before the +excitement of sudden battle had drawn the pack from the feast. Slowly +they circled about each other, their white fangs bare, their yellowish +backs bristling like brushes. The fatal ring of wolves drew about the +fighters. + +It was not new to Kazan. A dozen times he had sat in rings like this, +waiting for the final moment. More than once he had fought for his life +within the circle. It was the sledge-dog way of fighting. Unless man +interrupted with a club or a whip it always ended in death. Only one +fighter could come out alive. Sometimes both died. And there was no man +here--only that fatal cordon of waiting white-fanged demons, ready to +leap upon and tear to pieces the first of the fighters who was thrown +upon his side or back. Kazan was a stranger, but he did not fear those +that hemmed him in. The one great law of the pack would compel them to +be fair. + +He kept his eyes only on the big gray leader who had challenged him. +Shoulder to shoulder they continued to circle. Where a few moments +before there had been the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh +there was now silence. Soft-footed and soft-throated mongrel dogs from +the South would have snarled and growled, but Kazan and the wolf were +still, their ears laid forward instead of back, their tails free and +bushy. + +Suddenly the wolf struck in with the swiftness of lightning, and his +jaws came together with the sharpness of steel striking steel. They +missed by an inch. In that same instant Kazan darted in to the side, and +like knives his teeth gashed the wolf's flank. + +They circled again, their eyes growing redder, their lips drawn back +until they seemed to have disappeared. And then Kazan leaped for that +death-grip at the throat--and missed. It was only by an inch again, and +the wolf came back, as he had done, and laid open Kazan's flank so that +the blood ran down his leg and reddened the snow. The burn of that +flank-wound told Kazan that his enemy was old in the game of fighting. +He crouched low, his head straight out, and his throat close to the +snow. It was a trick Kazan had learned in puppyhood--to shield his +throat, and wait. + +Twice the wolf circled about him, and Kazan pivoted slowly, his eyes +half closed. A second time the wolf leaped, and Kazan threw up his +terrible jaws, sure of that fatal grip just in front of the forelegs. +His teeth snapped on empty air. With the nimbleness of a cat the wolf +had gone completely over his back. + +The trick had failed, and with a rumble of the dog-snarl in his throat, +Kazan reached the wolf in a single bound. They met breast to breast. +Their fangs clashed and with the whole weight of his body, Kazan flung +himself against the wolf's shoulders, cleared his jaws, and struck again +for the throat hold. It was another miss--by a hair's breadth--and +before he could recover, the wolf's teeth were buried in the back of +his neck. + +For the first time in his life Kazan felt the terror and the pain of the +death-grip, and with a mighty effort he flung his head a little forward +and snapped blindly. His powerful jaws closed on the wolf's foreleg, +close to the body. There was a cracking of bone and a crunching of +flesh, and the circle of waiting wolves grew tense and alert. One or the +other of the fighters was sure to go down before the holds were broken, +and they but awaited that fatal fall as a signal to leap in to the +death. + +Only the thickness of hair and hide on the back of Kazan's neck, and the +toughness of his muscles, saved him from that terrible fate of the +vanquished. The wolf's teeth sank deep, but not deep enough to reach the +vital spot, and suddenly Kazan put every ounce of strength in his limbs +to the effort, and flung himself up bodily from under his antagonist. +The grip on his neck relaxed, and with another rearing leap he tore +himself free. + +As swift as a whip-lash he whirled on the broken-legged leader of the +pack and with the full rush and weight of his shoulders struck him +fairly in the side. More deadly than the throat-grip had Kazan sometimes +found the lunge when delivered at the right moment. It was deadly now. +The big gray wolf lost his feet, rolled upon his back for an instant, +and the pack rushed in, eager to rend the last of life from the leader +whose power had ceased to exist. + +From out of that gray, snarling, bloody-lipped mass, Kazan drew back, +panting and bleeding. He was weak. There was a curious sickness in his +head. He wanted to lie down in the snow. But the old and infallible +instinct warned him not to betray that weakness. From out of the pack a +slim, lithe, gray she-wolf came up to him, and lay down in the snow +before him, and then rose swiftly and sniffed at his wounds. + +She was young and strong and beautiful, but Kazan did not look at her. +Where the fight had been he was looking, at what little remained of the +old leader. The pack had returned to the feast. He heard again the +cracking of bones and the rending of flesh, and something told him that +hereafter all the wilderness would hear and recognize his voice, and +that when he sat back on his haunches and called to the moon and the +stars, those swift-footed hunters of the big plain would respond to it. +He circled twice about the caribou and the pack, and then trotted off to +the edge of the black spruce forest. + +When he reached the shadows he looked back. Gray Wolf was following him. +She was only a few yards behind. And now she came up to him, a little +timidly, and she, too, looked back to the dark blotch of life out on the +lake. And as she stood there close beside him, Kazan sniffed at +something in the air that was not the scent of blood, nor the perfume of +the balsam and spruce. It was a thing that seemed to come to him from +the clear stars, the cloudless moon, the strange and beautiful quiet of +the night itself. And its presence seemed to be a part of Gray Wolf. + +He looked at her, and he found Gray Wolf's eyes alert and questioning. +She was young--so young that she seemed scarcely to have passed out of +puppyhood. Her body was strong and slim and beautifully shaped. In the +moonlight the hair under her throat and along her back shone sleek and +soft. She whined at the red staring light in Kazan's eyes, and it was +not a puppy's whimper. Kazan moved toward her, and stood with his head +over her back, facing the pack. He felt her trembling against his chest. +He looked at the moon and the stars again, the mystery of Gray Wolf and +of the night throbbing in his blood. + +Not much of his life had been spent at the posts. Most of it had been on +the trail--in the traces--and the spirit of the mating season had only +stirred him from afar. But it was very near now. Gray Wolf lifted her +head. Her soft muzzle touched the wound on his neck, and in the +gentleness of that touch, in the low sound in her throat, Kazan felt and +heard again that wonderful something that had come with the caress of +the woman's hand and the sound of her voice. + +He turned, whining, his back bristling, his head high and defiant of the +wilderness which he faced. Gray Wolf trotted close at his side as they +entered into the gloom of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW + + +They found shelter that night under thick balsam, and when they lay down +on the soft carpet of needles which the snow had not covered, Gray Wolf +snuggled her warm body close to Kazan and licked his wounds. The day +broke with a velvety fall of snow, so white and thick that they could +not see a dozen leaps ahead of them in the open. It was quite warm, and +so still that the whole world seemed filled with only the flutter and +whisper of the snowflakes. Through this day Kazan and Gray Wolf traveled +side by side. Time and again he turned his head back to the ridge over +which he had come, and Gray Wolf could not understand the strange note +that trembled in his throat. + +In the afternoon they returned to what was left of the caribou doe on +the lake. In the edge of the forest Gray Wolf hung back. She did not yet +know the meaning of poison-baits, deadfalls and traps, but the instinct +of numberless generations was in her veins, and it told her there was +danger in visiting a second time a thing that had grown cold in death. + +Kazan had seen masters work about carcasses that the wolves had left. He +had seen them conceal traps cleverly, and roll little capsules of +strychnine in the fat of the entrails, and once he had put a foreleg in +a trap, and had experienced its sting and pain and deadly grip. But he +did not have Gray Wolf's fear. He urged her to accompany him to the +white hummocks on the ice, and at last she went with him and sank back +restlessly on her haunches, while he dug out the bones and pieces of +flesh that the snow had kept from freezing. But she would not eat, and +at last Kazan went and sat on his haunches at her side, and with her +looked at what he had dug out from under the snow. He sniffed the air. +He could not smell danger, but Gray Wolf told him that it might be +there. + +She told him many other things in the days and nights that followed. The +third night Kazan himself gathered the hunt-pack and led in the chase. +Three times that month, before the moon left the skies, he led the +chase, and each time there was a kill. But as the snows began to grow +softer under his feet he found a greater and greater companionship in +Gray Wolf, and they hunted alone, living on the big white rabbits. In +all the world he had loved but two things, the girl with the shining +hair and the hands that had caressed him--and Gray Wolf. + +He did not leave the big plain, and often He took his mate to the top of +the ridge, and he would try to tell her what he had left back there. +With the dark nights the call of the woman became so strong upon him +that he was filled with a longing to go back, and take Gray Wolf with +him. + +Something happened very soon after that. They were crossing the open +plain one day when up on the face of the ridge Kazan saw something that +made his heart stand still. A man, with a dog-sledge and team, was +coming down into their world. The wind had not warned them, and suddenly +Kazan saw something glisten in the man's hands. He knew what it was. It +was the thing that spat fire and thunder, and killed. + +He gave his warning to Gray Wolf, and they were off like the wind, side +by side. And then came the _sound_--and Kazan's hatred of men burst +forth in a snarl as he leaped. There was a queer humming over their +heads. The sound from behind came again, and this time Gray Wolf gave a +yelp of pain, and rolled over and over in the snow. She was on her feet +again in an instant, and Kazan dropped behind her, and ran there until +they reached the shelter of the timber. Gray Wolf lay down, and began +licking the wound in her shoulder. Kazan faced the ridge. The man was +taking up their trail. He stopped where Gray Wolf had fallen, and +examined the snow. Then he came on. + +Kazan urged Gray Wolf to her feet, and they made for the thick swamp +close to the lake. All that day they kept in the face of the wind, and +when Gray Wolf lay down Kazan stole back over their trail, watching and +sniffing the air. + +For days after that Gray Wolf ran lame, and when once they came upon the +remains of an old camp, Kazan's teeth were bared in snarling hatred of +the man-scent that had been left behind. Growing in him there was a +desire for vengeance--vengeance for his own hurts, and for Gray Wolf's. +He tried to nose out the man-trail under the cover of fresh snow, and +Gray Wolf circled around him anxiously, and tried to lure him deeper +into the forest. At last he followed her sullenly. There was a savage +redness in his eyes. + +Three days later the new moon came. And on the fifth night Kazan struck +a trail. It was fresh--so fresh that he stopped as suddenly as though +struck by a bullet when he ran upon it, and stood with every muscle in +his body quivering, and his hair on end. It was a man-trail. There were +the marks of the sledge, the dogs' feet, and the snow-shoeprints of his +enemy. + +Then he threw up his head to the stars, and from his throat there rolled +out over the wide plains the hunt-cry--the wild and savage call for the +pack. Never had he put the savagery in it that was there to-night. Again +and again he sent forth that call, and then there came an answer and +another and still another, until Gray Wolf herself sat back on her +haunches and added her voice to Kazan's, and far out on the plain a +white and haggard-faced man halted his exhausted dogs to listen, while a +voice said faintly from the sledge: + +"The wolves, father. Are they coming--after us?" + +The man was silent. He was not young. The moon shone in his long white +beard, and added grotesquely to the height of his tall gaunt figure. A +girl had raised her head from a bearskin pillow on the sleigh. Her dark +eyes were filled beautifully with the starlight. She was pale. Her hair +fell in a thick shining braid over her shoulder, and she was hugging +something tightly to her breast. + +"They're on the trail of something--probably a deer," said the man, +looking at the breech of his rifle. "Don't worry, Jo. We'll stop at the +next bit of scrub and see if we can't find enough dry stuff for a +fire.--Wee-ah-h-h-h, boys! Koosh--koosh--" and he snapped his whip over +the backs of his team. + +From the bundle at the girl's breast there came a small wailing cry. And +far back in the plain there answered it the scattered voice of the pack. + +At last Kazan was on the trail of vengeance. He ran slowly at first, +with Gray Wolf close beside him, pausing every three or four hundred +yards to send forth the cry. A gray leaping form joined them from +behind. Another followed. Two came in from the side, and Kazan's +solitary howl gave place to the wild tongue of the pack. Numbers +grew, and with increasing number the pace became swifter. +Four--six--seven--ten--fourteen, by the time the more open and +wind-swept part of the plain was reached. + +It was a strong pack, filled with old and fearless hunters. Gray Wolf +was the youngest, and she kept close to Kazan's shoulders. She could see +nothing of his red-shot eyes and dripping jaws, and would not have +understood if she had seen. But she could _feel_ and she was thrilled by +the spirit of that strange and mysterious savagery that had made Kazan +forget all things but hurt and death. + +The pack made no sound. There was only the panting of breath and the +soft fall of many feet. They ran swiftly and close. And always Kazan was +a leap ahead, with Gray Wolf nosing his shoulder. + +Never had he wanted to kill as he felt the desire in him to kill now. +For the first time he had no fear of man, no fear of the club, of the +whip, or of the thing that blazed forth fire and death. He ran more +swiftly, in order to overtake them and give them battle sooner. All of +the pent-up madness of four years of slavery and abuse at the hands of +men broke loose in thin red streams of fire in his veins, and when at +last he saw a moving blotch far out on the plain ahead of him, the cry +that came out of his throat was one that Gray Wolf did not understand. + +Three hundred yards beyond that moving blotch was the thin line of +timber, and Kazan and his followers bore down swiftly. Half-way to the +timber they were almost upon it, and suddenly it stopped and became a +black and motionless shadow on the snow. From out of it there leaped +that lightning tongue of flame that Kazan had always dreaded, and he +heard the hissing song of the death-bee over his head. He did not mind +it now. He yelped sharply, and the wolves raced in until four of them +were neck-and-neck with him. + +A second flash--and the death-bee drove from breast to tail of a huge +gray fighter close to Gray Wolf. A third--a fourth--a fifth spurt of +that fire from the black shadow, and Kazan himself felt a sudden swift +passing of a red-hot thing along his shoulder, where the man's last +bullet shaved off the hair and stung his flesh. + +Three of the pack had gone down under the fire of the rifle, and half of +the others were swinging to the right and the left. But Kazan drove +straight ahead. Faithfully Gray Wolf followed him. + +The sledge-dogs had been freed from their traces, and before he could +reach the man, whom he saw with his rifle held like a club in his hands, +Kazan was met by the fighting mass of them. He fought like a fiend, and +there was the strength and the fierceness of two mates in the mad +gnashing of Gray Wolf's fangs. Two of the wolves rushed in, and Kazan +heard the terrific, back-breaking thud of the rifle. To him it was the +_club_. He wanted to reach it. He wanted to reach the man who held it, +and he freed himself from the fighting mass of the dogs and sprang to +the sledge. For the first time he saw that there was something human on +the sledge, and in an instant he was upon it. He buried his jaws deep. +They sank in something soft and hairy, and he opened them for another +lunge. And then he heard the voice! It was _her voice_! Every muscle in +his body stood still. He became suddenly like flesh turned to lifeless +stone. + +_Her voice_! The bear rug was thrown back and what had been hidden under +it he saw clearly now in the light of the moon and the stars. In him +instinct worked more swiftly than human brain could have given birth to +reason. It was not _she_. But the voice was the same, and the white +girlish face so close to his own blood-reddened eyes held in it that +same mystery that he had learned to love. And he saw now that which she +was clutching to her breast, and there came from it a strange thrilling +cry--and he knew that here on the sledge he had found not enmity and +death, but that from which he had been driven away in the other world +beyond the ridge. + +In a flash he turned. He snapped at Gray Wolf's flank, and she dropped +away with a startled yelp. It had all happened in a moment, but the man +was almost down. Kazan leaped under his clubbed rifle and drove into the +face of what was left of the pack. His fangs cut like knives. If he had +fought like a demon against the dogs, he fought like ten demons now, and +the man--bleeding and ready to fall--staggered back to the sledge, +marveling at what was happening. For in Gray Wolf there was now the +instinct of matehood, and seeing Kazan tearing and righting the pack she +joined him in the struggle which she could not understand. + +When it was over, Kazan and Gray Wolf were alone out on the plain. The +pack had slunk away into the night, and the same moon and stars that had +given to Kazan the first knowledge of his birthright told him now that +no longer would those wild brothers of the plains respond to his call +when he howled into the sky. + +He was hurt. And Gray Wolf was hurt, but not so badly as Kazan. He was +torn and bleeding. One of his legs was terribly bitten. After a time he +saw a fire in the edge of the forest. The old call was strong upon him. +He wanted to crawl in to it, and feel the girl's hand on his head, as +he had felt that other hand in the world beyond the ridge. He would have +gone--and would have urged Gray Wolf to go with him--but the man was +there. He whined, and Gray Wolf thrust her warm muzzle against his neck. +Something told them both that they were outcasts, that the plains, and +the moon, and the stars were against them now, and they slunk into the +shelter and the gloom of the forest. + +Kazan could not go far. He could still smell the camp when he lay down. +Gray Wolf snuggled close to him. Gently she soothed with her soft tongue +Kazan's bleeding wounds. And Kazan, lifting his head, whined softly to +the stars. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOAN + + +On the edge of the cedar and spruce forest old Pierre Radisson built the +fire. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds, where the fangs of the wolves +had reached to his flesh, and he felt in his breast that old and +terrible pain, of which no one knew the meaning but himself. He dragged +in log after log, piled them on the fire until the flames leaped tip to +the crisping needles of the limbs above, and heaped a supply close at +hand for use later in the night. + +From the sledge Joan watched him, still wild-eyed and fearful, still +trembling. She was holding her baby close to her breast. Her long heavy +hair smothered her shoulders and arms in a dark lustrous veil that +glistened and rippled in the firelight when she moved. Her young face +was scarcely a woman's to-night, though she was a mother. She looked +like a child. + +Old Pierre laughed as he threw down the last armful of fuel, and stood +breathing hard. + +"It was close, _ma cheri_" he panted through his white beard. "We were +nearer to death out there on the plain than we will ever be again, I +hope. But we are comfortable now, and warm. Eh? You are no longer +afraid?" + +He sat down beside his daughter, and gently pulled back the soft fur +that enveloped the bundle she held in her arms. He could see one pink +cheek of baby Joan. The eyes of Joan, the mother, were like stars. + +"It was the baby who saved us," she whispered. "The dogs were being torn +to pieces by the wolves, and I saw them leaping upon you, when one of +them sprang to the sledge. At first I thought it was one of the dogs. +But it was a wolf. He tore once at us, and the bearskin saved us. He was +almost at my throat when baby cried, and then he stood there, his red +eyes a foot from us, and I could have sworn again that he was a dog. In +an instant he turned, and was fighting the wolves. I saw him leap upon +one that was almost at your throat." + +"He _was_ a dog," said old Pierre, holding out his hands to the warmth. +"They often wander away from the posts, and join the wolves. I have had +dogs do that. _Ma cheri_, a dog is a dog all his life. Kicks, abuse, +even the wolves can not change him--for long. He was one of the pack. He +came with them--to kill. But when he found _us_--" + +"He fought for us," breathed the girl. She gave him the bundle, and +stood up, straight and tall and slim in the firelight. "He fought for +us--and he was terribly hurt," she said. "I saw him drag himself away. +Father, if he is out there--dying--" + +Pierre Radisson stood up. He coughed in a shuddering way, trying to +stifle the sound under his beard. The fleck of crimson that came to his +lips with the cough Joan did not see. She had seen nothing of it during +the six days they had been traveling up from the edge of civilization. +Because of that cough, and the stain that came with it, Pierre had made +more than ordinary haste. + +"I have been thinking of that," he said. "He was badly hurt, and I do +not think he went far. Here--take little Joan and sit close to the fire +until I come back." + +The moon and the stars were brilliant in the sky when he went out in the +plain. A short distance from the edge of the timber-line he stood for a +moment upon the spot where the wolves had overtaken them an hour before. +Not one of his four dogs had lived. The snow was red with their blood, +and their bodies lay stiff where they had fallen under the pack. Pierre +shuddered as he looked at them. If the wolves had not turned their first +mad attack upon the dogs, what would have become of himself, Joan and +the baby? He turned away, with another of those hollow coughs that +brought the blood to his lips. + +A few yards to one side he found in the snow the trail of the strange +dog that had come with the wolves, and had turned against them in that +moment when all seemed lost. It was not a clean running trail. It was +more of a furrow in the snow, and Pierre Radisson followed it, expecting +to find the dog dead at the end of it. + +In the sheltered spot to which he had dragged himself in the edge of the +forest Kazan lay for a long time after the fight, alert and watchful. +He felt no very great pain. But he had lost the power to stand upon his +legs. His flanks seemed paralyzed. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, +sniffing the air. They could smell the camp, and Kazan could detect the +two things that were there--_man_ and _woman_. He knew that the girl was +there, where he could see the glow of the firelight through the spruce +and the cedars. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to drag himself close +in to the fire, and take Gray Wolf with him, and listen to her voice, +and feel the touch of her hand. But the man was there, and to him man +had always meant the club, the whip, pain, death. + +Gray Wolf crouched close to his side, and whined softly as she urged +Kazan to flee deeper with her into the forest. At last she understood +that he could not move, and she ran nervously out into the plain, and +back again, until her footprints were thick in the trail she made. The +instincts of matehood were strong in her. It was she who first saw +Pierre Radisson coming over their trail, and she ran swiftly back to +Kazan and gave the warning. + +Then Kazan caught the scent, and he saw the shadowy figure coming +through the starlight. He tried to drag himself back, but he could move +only by inches. The man came rapidly nearer. Kazan caught the glisten of +the rifle in his hand. He heard his hollow cough, and the tread of his +feet in the snow. Gray Wolf crouched shoulder to shoulder with him, +trembling and showing her teeth. When Pierre had approached within fifty +feet of them she slunk back into the deeper shadows of the spruce. + +Kazan's fangs were bared menacingly when Pierre stopped and looked down +at him. With an effort he dragged himself to his feet, but fell back +into the snow again. The man leaned his rifle against a sapling and bent +over him fearlessly. With a fierce growl Kazan snapped at his extended +hands. To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club. He +held out his hand again--cautiously--and spoke in a voice new to Kazan. +The dog snapped again, and growled. + +The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened +hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it. +Again and again the man reached out his hand, and three times Kazan felt +the touch of it, and there was neither threat nor hurt in it. At last +Pierre turned away and went back over the trail. + +When he was out of sight and hearing, Kazan whined, and the crest along +his spine flattened. He looked wistfully toward the glow of the fire. +The man had not hurt him, and the three-quarters of him that was dog +wanted to follow. + +Gray Wolf came back, and stood with stiffly planted forefeet at his +side. She had never been this near to man before, except when the pack +had overtaken the sledge out on the plain. She could not understand. +Every instinct that was in her warned her that he was the most dangerous +of all things, more to be feared than the strongest beasts, the storms, +the floods, cold and starvation. And yet this man had not harmed her +mate. She sniffed at Kazan's back and head, where the mittened hand had +touched. Then she trotted back into the darkness again, for beyond the +edge of the forest she once more saw moving life. + +The man was returning, and with him was the girl. Her voice was soft +and sweet, and there was about her the breath and sweetness of woman. +The man stood prepared, but not threatening. + +"Be careful, Joan," he warned. + +She dropped on her knees in the snow, just out of reach. + +"Come, boy--come!" she said gently. She held out her hand. Kazan's +muscles twitched. He moved an inch--two inches toward her. There was the +old light in her eyes and face now, the love and gentleness he had known +once before, when another woman with shining hair and eyes had come into +his life. "Come!" she whispered as she saw him move, and she bent a +little, reached a little farther with her hand, and at last touched his +head. + +Pierre knelt beside her. He was proffering something, and Kazan smelled +meat. But it was the girl's hand that made him tremble and shiver, and +when she drew back, urging him to follow her, he dragged himself +painfully a foot or two through the snow. Not until then did the girl +see his mangled leg. In an instant she had forgotten all caution, and +was down close at his side. + +"He can't walk," she cried, a sudden tremble in her voice. "Look, _mon +pere!_ Here is a terrible cut. We must carry him." + +"I guessed that much," replied Radisson. "For that reason I brought the +blanket. _Mon Dieu_, listen to that!" + +From the darkness of the forest there came a low wailing cry. + +Kazan lifted his head and a trembling whine answered in his throat. It +was Gray Wolf calling to him. + +It was a miracle that Pierre Radisson should put the blanket about +Kazan, and carry him in to the camp, without scratch or bite. It was +this miracle that he achieved, with Joan's arm resting on Kazan's shaggy +neck as she held one end of the blanket. They laid him down close to the +fire, and after a little it was the man again who brought warm water and +washed away the blood from the torn leg, and then put something on it +that was soft and warm and soothing, and finally bound a cloth about it. + +All this Was strange and new to Kazan. Pierre's hand, as well as the +girl's, stroked his head. It was the man who brought him a gruel of meal +and tallow, and urged him to eat, while Joan sat with her chin in her +two hands, looking at the dog, and talking to him. After this, when he +was quite comfortable, and no longer afraid, he heard a strange small +cry from the furry bundle on the sledge that brought his head up with a +jerk. + +Joan saw the movement, and heard the low answering whimper in his +throat. She turned quickly to the bundle, talking and cooing to it as +she took it in her arms, and then she pulled back the bearskin so that +Kazan could see. He had never seen a baby before, and Joan held it out +before him, so that he could look straight at it and see what a +wonderful creature it was. Its little pink face stared steadily at +Kazan. Its tiny fists reached out, and it made queer little sounds at +him, and then suddenly it kicked and screamed with delight and laughed. +At those sounds Kazan's whole body relaxed, and he dragged himself to +the girl's feet. + +"See, he likes the baby!" she cried. "_Mon pere_, we must give him a +name. What shall it be?" + +"Wait till morning for that," replied the father. "It is late, Joan. Go +into the tent, and sleep. We have no dogs now, and will travel slowly. +So we must start early." + +With her hand on the tent-flap, Joan, turned. + +"He came with the wolves," she said. "Let us call him Wolf." With one +arm she was holding the little Joan. The other she stretched out to +Kazan. "Wolf! Wolf!" she called softly. + +Kazan's eyes were on her. He knew that she was speaking to him, and he +drew himself a foot toward her. + +"He knows it already!" she cried. "Good night, _mon pere_." + +For a long time after she had gone into the tent, old Pierre Radisson +sat on the edge of the sledge, facing the fire, with Kazan at his feet. +Suddenly the silence was broken again by Gray Wolf's lonely howl deep in +the forest. Kazan lifted his head and whined. + +"She's calling for you, boy," said Pierre understandingly. + +He coughed, and clutched a hand to his breast, where the pain seemed +rending him. + +"Frost-bitten lung," he said, speaking straight at Kazan. "Got it early +in the winter, up at Fond du Lac. Hope we'll get home--in time--with the +kids." + +In the loneliness and emptiness of the big northern wilderness one falls +into the habit of talking to one's self. But Kazan's head was alert, and +his eyes watchful, so Pierre spoke to him. + +"We've got to get them home, and there's only you and me to do it," he +said, twisting his beard. Suddenly he clenched his fists. + +His hollow racking cough convulsed him again. + +"Home!" he panted, clutching his chest. "It's eighty miles straight +north--to the Churchill--and I pray to God we'll get there--with the +kids--before my lungs give out." + +He rose to his feet, and staggered a little as he walked. There was a +collar about Kazan's neck, and he chained him to the sledge. After that +he dragged three or four small logs upon the fire, and went quietly into +the tent where Joan and the baby were already asleep. Several times +that night Kazan heard the distant voice of Gray Wolf calling for him, +but something told him that he must not answer it now. Toward dawn Gray +Wolf came close in to the camp, and for the first time Kazan replied to +her. + +His howl awakened the man. He came out of the tent, peered for a few +moments up at the sky, built up the fire, and began to prepare +breakfast. He patted Kazan on the head, and gave him a chunk of meat. +Joan came out a few moments later, leaving the baby asleep in the tent. +She ran up and kissed Pierre, and then dropped down on her knees beside +Kazan, and talked to him almost as he had heard her talk to the baby. +When she jumped up to help her father, Kazan followed her, and when Joan +saw him standing firmly upon his legs she gave a cry of pleasure. + +It was a strange journey that began into the North that day. Pierre +Radisson emptied the sledge of everything but the tent, blankets, food +and the furry nest for baby Joan. Then he harnessed himself in the +traces and dragged the sledge over the snow. He coughed incessantly. + +"It's a cough I've had half the winter," lied Pierre, careful that Joan +saw no sign of blood on his lips or beard. "I'll keep in the cabin for a +week when we get home." + +Even Kazan, with that strange beast knowledge which man, unable to +explain, calls instinct, knew that what he said was not the truth. +Perhaps it was largely because he had heard other men cough like this, +and that for generations his sledge-dog ancestors had heard men cough as +Radisson coughed--and had learned what followed it. + +More than once he had scented death in tepees and cabins, which he had +not entered, and more than once he had sniffed at the mystery of death +that was not quite present, but near--just as he had caught at a +distance the subtle warning of storm and of fire. And that strange thing +seemed to be very near to him now, as he followed at the end of his +chain behind the sledge. It made him restless, and half a dozen times, +when the sledge stopped, he sniffed at the bit of humanity buried in the +bearskin. Each time that he did this Joan was quickly at his side, and +twice she patted his scarred and grizzled head until every drop of +blood in his body leaped riotously with a joy which his body did not +reveal. + +This day the chief thing that he came to understand was that the little +creature on the sledge was very precious to the girl who stroked his +head and talked to him, and that it was very helpless. He learned, too, +that Joan was most delighted, and that her voice was softer and thrilled +him more deeply, when he paid attention to that little, warm, living +thing in the bearskin. + +For a long time after they made camp Pierre Radisson sat beside the +fire. To-night he did not smoke. He stared straight into the flames. +When at last he rose to go into the tent with the girl and the baby, he +bent over Kazan and examined his hurt. + +"You've got to work in the traces to-morrow, boy," he said. "We must +make the river by to-morrow night. If we don't--" + +He did not finish. He was choking back one of those tearing coughs when +the tent-flap dropped behind him. Kazan lay stiff and alert, his eyes +filled with a strange anxiety. He did not like to see Radisson enter the +tent, for stronger than ever there hung that oppressive mystery in the +air about him, and it seemed to be a part of Pierre. + +Three times that night he heard faithful Gray Wolf calling for him deep +in the forest, and each time he answered her. Toward dawn she came in +close to camp. Once he caught the scent of her when she circled around +in the wind, and he tugged and whined at the end of his chain, hoping +that she would come in and lie down at his side. But no sooner had +Radisson moved in the tent than Gray Wolf was gone. The man's face was +thinner, and his eyes were redder this morning. His cough was not so +loud or so rending. It was like a wheeze, as if something had given way +inside, and before the girl came out he clutched his hands often at his +throat. Joan's face whitened when she saw him. Anxiety gave way to fear +in her eyes. Pierre Radisson laughed when she flung her arms about him, +and coughed to prove that what he said was true. + +"You see the cough is not so bad, my Joan," he said. "It is breaking up. +You can not have forgotten, _ma cheri_? It always leaves one red-eyed +and weak." + +It was a cold bleak dark day that followed, and through it Kazan and +the man tugged at the fore of the sledge, with Joan following in the +trail behind. Kazan's wound no longer hurt him. He pulled steadily with +all his splendid strength, and the man never lashed him once, but patted +him with his mittened hand on head and back. The day grew steadily +darker and in the tops of the trees there was the low moaning of a +storm. + +Darkness and the coming of the storm did not drive Pierre Radisson into +camp. "We must reach the river," he said to himself over and over again. +"We must reach the river--we must reach the river--" And he steadily +urged Kazan on to greater effort, while his own strength at the end of +the traces grew less. + +It had begun to storm when Pierre stopped to build a fire at noon. The +snow fell straight down in a white deluge so thick that it hid the tree +trunks fifty yards away. Pierre laughed when Joan shivered and snuggled +close up to him with the baby in her arms. He waited only an hour, and +then fastened Kazan in the traces again, and buckled the straps once +more about his own waist. In the silent gloom that was almost night +Pierre carried his compass in his hand, and at last, late in the +afternoon, they came to a break in the timber-line, and ahead of them +lay a plain, across which Radisson pointed an exultant hand. + +"There's the river, Joan," he said, his voice faint and husky. "We can +camp here now and wait for the storm to pass." + +Under a thick clump of spruce he put up the tent, and then began +gathering fire-wood. Joan helped him. As soon as they had boiled coffee +and eaten a supper of meat and toasted biscuits, Joan went into the tent +and dropped exhausted on her thick bed of balsam boughs, wrapping +herself and the baby up close in the skins and blankets. To-night she +had no word for Kazan. And Pierre was glad that she was too tired to sit +beside the fire and talk. And yet-- + +Kazan's alert eyes saw Pierre start suddenly. He rose from his seat on +the sledge and went to the tent. He drew back the flap and thrust in his +head and shoulders. + +"Asleep, Joan?" he asked. + +"Almost, father. Won't you please come--soon?" + +"After I smoke," he said. "Are you comfortable?" + +"Yes, I'm so tired--and--sleepy--" + +Pierre laughed softly. In the darkness he was gripping at his throat. + +"We're almost home, Joan. That is our river out there--the Little +Beaver. If I should run away and leave you to-night you could follow it +right to our cabin. It's only forty miles. Do you hear?" + +"Yes--I know--" + +"Forty miles--straight down the river. You couldn't lose yourself, Joan. +Only you'd have to be careful of air-holes in the ice." + +"Won't you come to bed, father? You're tired--and almost sick." + +"Yes--after I smoke," he repeated. "Joan, will you keep reminding me +to-morrow of the air-holes? I might forget. You can always tell them, +for the snow and the crust over them are whiter than that on the rest of +the ice, and like a sponge. Will you remember--the airholes--" + +"Yes-s-s-s--" + +Pierre dropped the tent-flap and returned to the fire. He staggered as +he walked. + +"Good night, boy," he said. "Guess I'd better go in with the kids. Two +days more--forty miles--two days--" + +Kazan watched him as he entered the tent. He laid his weight against the +end of his chain until the collar shut off his wind. His legs and back +twitched. In that tent where Radisson had gone were Joan and the baby. +He knew that Pierre would not hurt them, but he knew also that with +Pierre Radisson something terrible and impending was hovering very near +to them. He wanted the man outside--by the fire--where he could lie +still, and watch him. + +In the tent there was silence. Nearer to him than before came Gray +Wolf's cry. Each night she was calling earlier, and coming closer to the +camp. He wanted her very near to him to-night, but he did not even whine +in response. He dared not break that strange silence in the tent. He lay +still for a long time, tired and lame from the day's journey, but +sleepless. The fire burned lower; the wind in the tree-tops died away; +and the thick gray clouds rolled like a massive curtain from under the +skies. The stars began to glow white and metallic, and from far in the +North there came faintly a crisping moaning sound, like steel +sleigh-runners running over frosty snow--the mysterious monotone of the +Northern Lights. After that it grew steadily and swiftly colder. + +To-night Gray Wolf did not compass herself by the direction of the wind. +She followed like a sneaking shadow over the trail Pierre Radisson had +made, and when Kazan heard her again, long after midnight, he lay with, +his head erect, and his body rigid, save for a curious twitching of his +muscles. There was a new note in Gray Wolf's voice, a wailing note in +which there was more than the mate-call. It was The Message. And at the +sound of it Kazan rose from out of his silence and his fear, and with +his head turned straight up to the sky he howled as the wild dogs of the +North howl before the tepees of masters who are newly dead. + +Pierre Radisson was dead. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +OUT OF THE BLIZZARD + + +It was dawn when the baby snuggled close to Joan's warm breast and +awakened her with its cry of hunger. She opened her eyes, brushed back +the thick hair from her face, and could see where the shadowy form of +her father was lying at the other side of the tent. He was very quiet, +and she was pleased that he was still sleeping. She knew that the day +before he had been very near to exhaustion, and so for half an hour +longer she lay quiet, cooing softly to the baby Joan. Then she arose +cautiously, tucked the baby in the warm blankets and furs, put on her +heavier garments, and went outside. + +By this time it was broad day, and she breathed a sigh of relief when +she saw that the storm had passed. It was bitterly cold. It seemed to +her that she had never known it to be so cold in all her life. The fire +was completely out. Kazan was huddled in a round ball, his nose tucked +under his body. He raised his head, shivering, as Joan came out. With +her heavily moccasined foot Joan scattered the ashes and charred sticks +where the fire had been. There was not a spark left. In returning to the +tent she stopped for a moment beside Kazan, and patted his shaggy head. + +"Poor Wolf!" she said. "I wish I had given you one of the bearskins!" + +She threw back the tent-flap and entered. For the first time she saw her +father's face in the light--and outside, Kazan heard the terrible +moaning cry that broke from her lips. No one could have looked at Pierre +Radisson's face once--and not have understood. + +After that one agonizing cry, Joan flung herself upon her father's +breast, sobbing so softly that even Kazan's sharp ears heard no sound. +She remained there in her grief until every vital energy of womanhood +and motherhood in her girlish body was roused to action by the wailing +cry of baby Joan. Then she sprang to her feet and ran out through the +tent opening. Kazan tugged at the end of his chain to meet her, but she +saw nothing of him now. The terror of the wilderness is greater than +that of death, and in an instant it had fallen upon Joan. It was not +because of fear for herself. It was the baby. The wailing cries from the +tent pierced her like knife-thrusts. + +And then, all at once, there came to her what old Pierre had said the +night before--his words about the river, the air-holes, the home forty +miles away. "_You couldn't lose yourself, Joan_" He had guessed what +might happen. + +She bundled the baby deep in the furs and returned to the fire-bed. Her +one thought now was that they must have fire. She made a little pile of +birch-bark, covered it with half-burned bits of wood, and went into the +tent for the matches. Pierre Radisson carried them in a water-proof box +in a pocket of his bearskin coat. She sobbed as she kneeled beside him +again, and obtained the box. As the fire flared up she added other bits +of wood, and then some of the larger pieces that Pierre had dragged into +camp. The fire gave her courage. Forty miles--and the river led to their +home! She must make that, with the baby and Wolf. For the first time +she turned to him, and spoke his name as she put her hand on his head. +After that she gave him a chunk of meat which she thawed out over the +fire, and melted the snow for tea. She was not hungry, but she recalled +how her father had made her eat four or five times a day, so she forced +herself to make a breakfast of a biscuit, a shred of meat and as much +hot tea as she could drink. + +The terrible hour she dreaded followed that. She wrapped blankets +closely about her father's body, and tied them with babiche cord. After +that she piled all the furs and blankets that remained on the sledge +close to the fire, and snuggled baby Joan deep down in them. Pulling +down the tent was a task. The ropes were stiff and frozen, and when she +had finished, one of her hands was bleeding. She piled the tent on the +sledge, and then, half, covering her face, turned and looked back. + +Pierre Radisson lay on his balsam bed, with nothing over him now but the +gray sky and the spruce-tops. Kazan stood stiff-legged and sniffed the +air. His spine bristled when Joan went back slowly and kneeled beside +the blanket-wrapped object. When she returned to him her face was white +and tense, and now there was a strange and terrible look in her eyes as +she stared out across the barren. She put him in the traces, and +fastened about her slender waist the strap that Pierre had used. Thus +they struck out for the river, floundering knee-deep in the freshly +fallen and drifted snow. Half-way Joan stumbled in a drift and fell, her +loose hair flying in a shimmering veil over the snow. With a mighty pull +Kazan was at her side, and his cold muzzle touched her face as she drew +herself to her feet. For a moment Joan took his shaggy head between her +two hands. + +"Wolf!" she moaned. "Oh, Wolf!" + +She went on, her breath coming pantingly now, even from her brief +exertion. The snow was not so deep on the ice of the river. But a wind +was rising. It came from the north and east, straight in her face, and +Joan bowed her head as she pulled with Kazan. Half a mile down the river +she stopped, and no longer could she repress the hopelessness that rose +to her lips in a sobbing choking cry. Forty miles! She clutched her +hands at her breast, and stood breathing like one who had been beaten, +her back to the wind. The baby was quiet. Joan went back and peered down +under the furs, and what she saw there spurred her on again almost +fiercely. Twice she stumbled to her knees in the drifts during the next +quarter of a mile. + +After that there was a stretch of wind-swept ice, and Kazan pulled the +sledge alone. Joan walked at his side. There was a pain in her chest. A +thousand needles seemed pricking her face, and suddenly she remembered +the thermometer. She exposed it for a time on the top of the tent. When +she looked at it a few minutes later it was thirty degrees below zero. +Forty miles! And her father had told her that she could make it--and +could not lose herself! But she did not know that even her father would +have been afraid to face the north that day, with the temperature at +thirty below, and a moaning wind bringing the first warning of a +blizzard. + +The timber was far behind her now. Ahead there was nothing but the +pitiless barren, and the timber beyond that was hidden by the gray gloom +of the day. If there had been trees, Joan's heart would not have choked +so with terror. But there was nothing--nothing but that gray ghostly +gloom, with the rim of the sky touching the earth a mile away. + +The snow grew heavy under her feet again. Always she was watching for +those treacherous, frost-coated traps in the ice her father had spoken +of. But she found now that all the ice and snow looked alike to her, and +that there was a growing pain back of her eyes. It was the intense cold. + +The river widened into a small lake, and here the wind struck her in the +face with such force that her weight was taken from the strap, and Kazan +dragged the sledge alone. A few inches of snow impeded her as much as a +foot had done before. Little by little she dropped back. Kazan forged to +her side, every ounce of his magnificent strength in the traces. By the +time they were on the river channel again, Joan was at the back of the +sledge, following in the trail made by Kazan. She was powerless to help +him. She felt more and more the leaden weight of her legs. There was but +one hope--and that was the forest. If they did not reach it soon, within +half an hour, she would be able to go no farther. Over and over again +she moaned a prayer for her baby as she struggled on. She fell in the +snow-drifts. Kazan and the sledge became only a dark blotch to her. And +then, all at once, she saw that they were leaving her. They were not +more than twenty feet ahead of her--but the blotch seemed to be a vast +distance away. Every bit of life and strength in her body was now bent +upon reaching the sledge--and baby Joan. + +It seemed an interminable time before she gained. With the sledge only +six feet ahead of her she struggled for what seemed to her to be an hour +before she could reach out and touch it. With a moan she flung herself +forward, and fell upon it. She no longer heard the wailing of the storm. +She no longer felt discomfort. With her face in the furs under which +baby Joan was buried, there came to her with swiftness and joy a vision +of warmth and home. And then the vision faded away, and was followed by +deep night. + +Kazan stopped in the trail. He came back then and sat down upon his +haunches beside her, waiting for her to move and speak. But she was +very still. He thrust his nose into her loose hair. A whine rose in his +throat, and suddenly he raised his head and sniffed in the face of the +wind. Something came to him with that wind. He muzzled Joan again, hut +she did not stir. Then he went forward, and stood in his traces, ready +for the pull, and looked hack at her. Still she did not move or speak, +and Kazan's whine gave place to a sharp excited bark. + +The strange thing in the wind came to him stronger for a moment. He +began to pull. The sledge-runners had frozen to the snow, and it took +every ounce of his strength to free them. Twice during the next five +minutes he stopped and sniffed the air. The third time that he halted, +in a drift of snow, he returned to Joan's side again, and whined to +awaken her. Then he tugged again at the end of his traces, and foot by +foot he dragged the sledge through the drift. Beyond the drift there was +a stretch of clear ice, and here Kazan rested. During a lull in the wind +the scent came to him stronger than before. + +At the end of the clear ice was a narrow break in the shore, where a +creek ran into the main stream. If Joan had been conscious she would +have urged him straight ahead. But Kazan turned into the break, and for +ten minutes he struggled through the snow without a rest, whining more +and more frequently, until at last the whine broke into a joyous bark. +Ahead of him, close to the creek, was a small cabin. Smoke was rising +out of the chimney. It was the scent of smoke that had come to him in +the wind. A hard level slope reached to the cabin door, and with the +last strength that was in him Kazan dragged his burden up that. Then he +settled himself back beside Joan, lifted his shaggy head to the dark sky +and howled. + +A moment later the door opened. A man came out. Kazan's reddened, +snow-shot eyes followed him watchfully as he ran to the sledge. He heard +his startled exclamation as he bent over Joan. In another lull of the +wind there came from out of the mass of furs on the sledge the wailing, +half-smothered voice of baby Joan. + +A deep sigh of relief heaved up from Kazan's chest. He was exhausted. +His strength was gone. His feet were torn and bleeding. But the voice +of baby Joan filled him with a strange happiness, and he lay down in his +traces, while the man carried Joan and the baby into the life and warmth +of the cabin. + +A few minutes later the man reappeared. He was not old, like Pierre +Radisson. He came close to Kazan, and looked down at him. + +"My God," he said. "And you did that--_alone!_" + +He bent down fearlessly, unfastened him from the traces, and led him +toward the cabin door. Kazan hesitated but once--almost on the +threshold. He turned his head, swift and alert. From out of the moaning +and wailing of the storm it seemed to him that for a moment he had heard +the voice of Gray Wolf. + +Then the cabin door closed behind him. + +Back in a shadowy corner of the cabin he lay, while the man prepared +something over a hot stove for Joan. It was a long time before Joan rose +from the cot on which the man had placed her. After that Kazan heard her +sobbing; and then the man made her eat, and for a time they talked. Then +the stranger hung up a big blanket in front of the bunk, and sat down +close to the stove. Quietly Kazan slipped along the wall, and crept +under the bunk. For a long time he could hear the sobbing breath of the +girl. Then all was still. + +The next morning he slipped out through the door when the man opened it, +and sped swiftly into the forest. Half a mile away he found the trail of +Gray Wolf, and called to her. From the frozen river came her reply, and +he went to her. + +Vainly Gray Wolf tried to lure him back into their old haunts--away from +the cabin and the scent of man. Late that morning the man harnessed his +dogs, and from the fringe of the forest Kazan saw him tuck Joan and the +baby among the furs on the sledge, as old Pierre had done. All that day +he followed in the trail of the team, with Gray Wolf slinking behind +him. They traveled until dark; and then, under the stars and the moon +that had followed the storm, the man still urged on his team. It was +deep in the night when they came to another cabin, and the man beat upon +the door. A light, the opening of the door, the joyous welcome of a +man's voice, Joan's sobbing cry--Kazan heard these from the shadows in +which he was hidden, and then slipped back to Gray Wolf. + +In the days and weeks that followed Joan's home-coming the lure of the +cabin and of the woman's hand held Kazan. As he had tolerated Pierre, so +now he tolerated the younger man who lived with Joan and the baby. He +knew that the man was very dear to Joan, and that the baby was very dear +to him, as it was to the girl. It was not until the third day that Joan +succeeded in coaxing him into the cabin--and that was the day on which +the man returned with the dead and frozen body of Pierre. It was Joan's +husband who first found the name on the collar he wore, and they began +calling him Kazan. + +Half a mile away, at the summit of a huge mass of rock which the Indians +called the Sun Rock, he and Gray Wolf had found a home; and from here +they went down to their hunts on the plain, and often the girl's voice +reached up to them, calling, "_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +Through all the long winter Kazan hovered thus between the lure of Joan +and the cabin--and Gray Wolf. + +Then came Spring--and the Great Change. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE GREAT CHANGE + + +The rocks, the ridges and the valleys were taking on a warmer glow. The +poplar buds were ready to burst. The scent of balsam and of spruce grew +heavier in the air each day, and all through the wilderness, in plain +and forest, there was the rippling murmur of the spring floods finding +their way to Hudson's Bay. In that great bay there was the rumble and +crash of the ice fields thundering down in the early break-up through +the Roes Welcome--the doorway to the Arctic, and for that reason there +still came with the April wind an occasional sharp breath of winter. + +Kazan had sheltered himself against that wind. Not a breath of air +stirred in the sunny spot the wolf-dog had chosen for himself. He was +more comfortable than he had been at any time during the six months of +terrible winter--and as he slept he dreamed. + +Gray Wolf, his wild mate, lay near him, flat on her belly, her forepaws +reaching out, her eyes and nostrils as keen and alert as the smell of +man could make them. For there was that smell of man, as well as of +balsam and spruce, in the warm spring air. She gazed anxiously and +sometimes steadily, at Kazan as he slept. Her own gray spine stiffened +when she saw the tawny hair along Kazan's back bristle at some dream +vision. She whined softly as his upper lip snarled back, showing his +long white fangs. But for the most part Kazan lay quiet, save for the +muscular twitchings of legs, shoulders and muzzle, which always tell +when a dog is dreaming; and as he dreamed there came to the door of the +cabin out on the plain a blue-eyed girl-woman, with a big brown braid +over her shoulder, who called through the cup of her hands, "Kazan, +Kazan, Kazan!" + +The voice reached faintly to the top of the Sun Rock, and Gray Wolf +flattened her ears. Kazan stirred, and in another instant he was awake +and on his feet. He leaped to an outcropping ledge, sniffing the air and +looking far out over the plain that lay below them. + +Over the plain the woman's voice came to them again, and Kazan ran to +the edge of the rock and whined. Gray Wolf stepped softly to his side +and laid her muzzle on his shoulder. She had grown to know what the +Voice meant. Day and night she feared it, more than she feared the scent +or sound of man. + +Since she had given up the pack and her old life for Kazan, the Voice +had become Gray Wolf's greatest enemy, and she hated it. It took Kazan +from her. And wherever it went, Kazan followed. + +Night after night it robbed her of her mate, and left her to wander +alone under the stars and the moon, keeping faithfully to her +loneliness, and never once responding with her own tongue to the +hunt-calls of her wild brothers and sisters in the forests and out on +the plains. Usually she would snarl at the Voice, and sometimes nip +Kazan lightly to show her displeasure. But to-day, as the Voice came a +third time, she slunk back into the darkness of a fissure between two +rocks, and Kazan saw only the fiery glow of her eyes. + +Kazan ran nervously to the trail their feet had worn up to the top of +the Sun Rock, and stood undecided. All day, and yesterday, he had been +uneasy and disturbed. Whatever it was that stirred him seemed to be in +the air, for he could not see it or hear it or scent it. But he could +_feel_ it. He went to the fissure and sniffed at Gray Wolf. Usually she +whined coaxingly. But her response to-day was to draw back her lips +until he could see her white fangs. + +A fourth tune the Voice came to them faintly, and she snapped fiercely +at some unseen thing in the darkness between the two rocks. Kazan went +again to the trail, still hesitating. Then he began to go down. It was a +narrow winding trail, worn only by the pads and claws of animals, for +the Sun Rock was a huge crag that rose almost sheer up for a hundred +feet above the tops of the spruce and balsam, its bald crest catching +the first gleams of the sun in the morning and the last glow of it in +the evening. Gray Wolf had first led Kazan to the security of the +retreat at the top of the rock. + +When he reached the bottom he no longer hesitated, but darted swiftly in +the direction of the cabin. Because of that instinct of the wild that +was still in him, he always approached the cabin with caution. He never +gave warning, and for a moment Joan was startled when she looked up from +her baby and saw Kazan's shaggy head and shoulders in the open door. The +baby struggled and kicked in her delight, and held out her two hands +with cooing cries to Kazan. Joan, too, held out a hand. + +"Kazan!" she cried softly. "Come in, Kazan!" + +Slowly the wild red light in Kazan's eyes softened. He put a forefoot on +the sill, and stood there, while the girl urged him again. Suddenly his +legs seemed to sink a little under him, his tail drooped and he slunk in +with that doggish air of having committed a crime. The creatures he +loved were in the cabin, but the cabin itself he hated. He hated all +cabins, for they all breathed of the club and the whip and bondage. Like +all sledge-dogs he preferred the open snow for a bed, and the +spruce-tops for shelter. + +Joan dropped her hand to his head, and at its touch there thrilled +through him that strange joy that was his reward for leaving Gray Wolf +and the wild. Slowly he raised his head until his black muzzle rested on +her lap, and he closed his eyes while that wonderful little creature +that mystified him so--the baby--prodded him with her tiny feet, and +pulled his tawny hair. He loved these baby-maulings even more than the +touch of Joan's hand. + +Motionless, sphinx-like, undemonstrative in every muscle of his body, +Kazan stood, scarcely breathing. More than once this lack of +demonstration had urged Joan's husband to warn her. But the wolf that +was in Kazan, his wild aloofness, even his mating with Gray Wolf had +made her love him more. She understood, and had faith in him. + +In the days of the last snow Kazan had proved himself. A neighboring +trapper had run over with his team, and the baby Joan had toddled up to +one of the big huskies. There was a fierce snap of jaws, a scream of +horror from Joan, a shout from the men as they leaped toward the pack. +But Kazan was ahead of them all. In a gray streak that traveled with the +speed of a bullet he was at the big husky's throat. When they pulled him +off, the husky was dead. Joan thought of that now, as the baby kicked +and tousled Kazan's head. + +"Good old Kazan," she cried softly, putting her face down close to him. +"We're glad you came, Kazan, for we're going to be alone to-night--baby +and I. Daddy's gone to the post, and you must care for us while he's +away." + +She tickled his nose with the end of her long shining braid. This always +delighted the baby, for in spite of his stoicism Kazan had to sniff and +sometimes to sneeze, and twig his ears. And it pleased him, too. He +loved the sweet scent of Joan's hair. + +"And you'd fight for us, if you had to, wouldn't you?" she went on. Then +she rose quietly. "I must close the door," she said. "I don't want you +to go away again to-day, Kazan. You must stay with us." + +Kazan went off to his corner, and lay down. Just as there had been some +strange thing at the top of the Sun Rock to disturb him that day, so now +there was a mystery that disturbed him in the cabin. He sniffed the air, +trying to fathom its secret. Whatever it was, it seemed to make his +mistress different, too. And she was digging out all sorts of odds and +ends of things about the cabin, and doing them up in packages. Late that +night, before she went to bed, Joan came and snuggled her hand close +down beside him for a few moments. + +"We're going away," she whispered, and there was a curious tremble that +was almost a sob in her voice. "We're going home, Kazan. We're going +away down where his people live--where they have churches, and cities, +and music, and all the beautiful things in the world. And we're going to +take _you_, Kazan!" + +Kazan didn't understand. But he was happy at having the woman so near to +him, and talking to him. At these times he forgot Gray Wolf. The dog +that was in him surged over his quarter-strain of wildness, and the +woman and the baby alone filled his world. But after Joan had gone to +her bed, and all was quiet in the cabin, his old uneasiness returned. He +rose to his feet and moved stealthily about the cabin, sniffing at the +walls, the door and the things his mistress had done into packages. A +low whine rose in his throat. Joan, half asleep, heard it, and murmured: +"Be quiet, Kazan. Go to sleep--go to sleep--" + +Long after that, Kazan stood rigid in the center of the room, listening, +trembling. And faintly he heard, far away, the wailing cry of, Gray +Wolf. But to-night it was not the cry of loneliness. It sent a thrill +through him. He ran to the door, and whined, but Joan was deep in +slumber and did not hear him. Once more he heard the cry, and only once. +Then the night grew still. He crouched down near the door. + +Joan found him there, still watchful, still listening, when she awoke in +the early morning. She came to open the door for him, and in a moment he +was gone. His feet seemed scarcely to touch the earth as he sped in the +direction of the Sun Rock. Across the plain he could see the cap of it +already painted with a golden glow. + +He came to the narrow winding trail, and wormed his way up it swiftly. + +Gray Wolf was not at the top to greet him. But he could smell her, and +the scent of that other thing was strong in the air. His muscles +tightened; his legs grew tense. Deep down in his chest there began the +low rumble of a growl. He knew now what that strange thing was that had +haunted him, and made him uneasy. It was _life_. Something that lived +and breathed had invaded the home which he and Gray Wolf had chosen. He +bared his long fangs, and a snarl of defiance drew back his lips. +Stiff-legged, prepared to spring, his neck and head reaching out, he +approached the two rocks between which Gray Wolf had crept the night +before. She was still there. And with her was _something else_. After a +moment the tenseness left Kazan's body. His bristling crest drooped +until it lay flat. His ears shot forward, and he put his head and +shoulders between the two rocks, and whined softly. And Gray Wolf +whined. Slowly Kazan backed out, and faced the rising sun. Then he lay +down, so that his body shielded I the entrance to the chamber between +the rocks. + +Gray Wolf was a mother. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TRAGEDY ON SUN ROCK + + +All that day Kazan guarded the top of the Sun Rock. Fate, and the fear +and brutality of masters, had heretofore kept him from fatherhood, and +he was puzzled. Something told him now that he belonged to the Sun Rock, +and not to the cabin. The call that came to him from over the plain was +not so strong. At dusk Gray Wolf came out from her retreat, and slunk to +his side, whimpering, and nipped gently at his shaggy neck. It was the +old instinct of his fathers that made him respond by caressing Gray +Wolf's face with his tongue. Then Gray Wolf's jaws opened, and she +laughed in short panting breaths, as if she had been hard run. She was +happy, and as they heard a little snuffling sound from between the +rocks, Kazan wagged his tail, and Gray Wolf darted back to her young. + +The babyish cry and its effect upon Gray Wolf taught Kazan his first +lesson in fatherhood. Instinct again told him that Gray Wolf could not +go down to the hunt with him now--that she must stay at the top of the +Sun Rock. So when the moon rose he went down alone, and toward dawn +returned with a big white rabbit between his jaws. It was the wild in +him that made him do this, and Gray Wolf ate ravenously. Then he knew +that each night hereafter he must hunt for Gray Wolf--and the little +whimpering creatures hidden between the two rocks. + +The next day, and still the next, he did not go to the cabin, though he +heard the voices of both the man and the woman calling him. On the fifth +he went down, and Joan and the baby were so glad that the woman hugged +him, and the baby kicked and laughed and screamed at him, while the man +stood by cautiously, watching their demonstrations with a gleam of +disapprobation in his eyes. + +"I'm afraid of him," he told Joan for the hundredth time. "That's the +wolf-gleam in his eyes. He's of a treacherous breed. Sometimes I wish +we'd never brought him home." + +"If we hadn't--where would the baby--have gone?" Joan reminded him, a +little catch in her voice. + +"I had almost forgotten that," said her husband. "Kazan, you old devil, +I guess I love you, too." He laid his hand caressingly on Kazan's head. +"Wonder how he'll take to life down there?" he asked. "He has always +been used to the forests. It'll seem mighty strange." + +"And so--have I--always been used to the forests," whispered Joan. "I +guess that's why I love Kazan--next to you and the baby. Kazan--dear old +Kazan!" + +This time Kazan felt and scented more of that mysterious change in the +cabin. Joan and her husband talked incessantly of their plans when they +were together; and when the man was away Joan talked to the baby, and to +him. And each time that he came down to the cabin during the week that +followed, he grew more and more restless, until at last the man noticed +the change in him. + +"I believe he knows," he said to Joan one evening. "I believe he knows +we're preparing to leave." Then he added: "The river was rising again +to-day. It will be another week before we can start, perhaps longer." + +That same night the moon flooded the top of the Sun Rock with a golden +light, and out into the glow of it came Gray Wolf, with her three little +whelps toddling behind her. There was much about these soft little balls +that tumbled about him and snuggled in his tawny coat that reminded +Kazan of the baby. At times they made the same queer, soft little +sounds, and they staggered about on their four little legs just as +helplessly as baby Joan made her way about on two. He did not fondle +them, as Gray Wolf did, but the touch of them, and their babyish +whimperings, filled him with a kind of pleasure that he had never +experienced before. + +The moon was straight above them, and the night was almost as bright as +day, when he went down again to hunt for Gray Wolf. At the foot of the +rock a big white rabbit popped up ahead of him, and he gave chase. For +half a mile he pursued, until the wolf instinct in him rose over the +dog, and he gave up the futile race. A deer he might have overtaken, but +small game the wolf must hunt as the fox hunts it, and he began to slip +through the thickets slowly and as quietly as a shadow. He was a mile +from the Sun Rock when two quick leaps put Gray Wolf's supper between +his jaws. He trotted back slowly, dropping the big seven-pound snow-shoe +hare now and then to rest. + +When he came to the narrow trail that led to the top of the Sun Rock he +stopped. In that trail was the warm scent of strange feet. The rabbit +fell from his jaws. Every hair in his body was suddenly electrified into +life. What he scented was not the scent of a rabbit, a marten or a +porcupine. Fang and claw had climbed the path ahead of him. And then, +coming faintly to him from the top of the rock, he heard sounds which +sent him up with a terrible whining cry. When he reached the summit he +saw in the white moonlight a scene that stopped him for a single moment. +Close to the edge of the sheer fall to the rocks, fifty feet below, Gray +Wolf was engaged in a death-struggle with a huge gray lynx. She was +down--and under, and from her there came a sudden sharp terrible cry of +pain. + +Kazan flew across the rock. His attack was the swift silent assault of +the wolf, combined with the greater courage, the fury and the strategy +of the husky. Another husky would have died in that first attack. But +the lynx was not a dog or a wolf. It was "Mow-lee, the swift," as the +Sarcees had named it--the quickest creature in the wilderness. Kazan's +inch-long fangs should have sunk deep in its jugular. But in a +fractional part of a second the lynx had thrown itself back like a huge +soft ball, and Kazan's teeth buried themselves in the flesh of its neck +instead of the jugular. And Kazan was not now fighting the fangs of a +wolf in the pack, or of another husky. He was fighting claws--claws that +ripped like twenty razor-edged knives, and which even a jugular hold +could not stop. + +Once he had fought a lynx in a trap, and he had not forgotten the lesson +the battle had taught him. He fought to pull the lynx _down_, instead of +forcing it on its back, as he would have done with another dog or a +wolf. He knew that when on its back the fierce cat was most dangerous. +One rip of its powerful hindfeet could disembowel him. + +Behind him he heard Gray Wolf sobbing and crying, and he knew that she +was terribly hurt. He was filled with the rage and strength of two dogs, +and his teeth met through the flesh and hide of the cat's throat. But +the big lynx escaped death by half an inch. It would take a fresh grip +to reach the jugular, and suddenly Kazan made the deadly lunge. There +was an instant's freedom for the lynx, and in that moment it flung +itself back, and Kazan gripped at its throat--_on top_. + +The cat's claws ripped through his flesh, cutting open his side--a +little too high to kill. Another stroke and they would have cut to his +vitals. But they had struggled close to the edge of the rock wall, and +suddenly, without a snarl or a cry, they rolled over. It was fifty or +sixty feet to the rocks of the ledge below, and even as they pitched +over and over in the fall, Kazan's teeth sank deeper. They struck with +terrific force, Kazan uppermost. The shock sent him half a dozen feet +from his enemy. He was up like a flash, dizzy, snarling, on the +defensive. The lynx lay limp and motionless where it had fallen. Kazan +came nearer, still prepared, and sniffed cautiously. Something told him +that the fight was over. He turned and dragged himself slowly along the +ledge to the trail, and returned to Gray Wolf. + +Gray Wolf was no longer in the moonlight. Close to the two rocks lay the +limp and lifeless little bodies of the three pups. The lynx had torn +them to pieces. With a whine of grief Kazan approached the two boulders +and thrust his head between them. Gray Wolf was there, crying to herself +in that terrible sobbing way. He went in, and began to lick her bleeding +shoulders and head. All the rest of that night she whimpered with pain. +With dawn she dragged herself out to the lifeless little bodies on the +rock. + +And then Kazan saw the terrible work of the lynx. For Gray Wolf was +blind--not for a day or a night, but blind for all time. A gloom that no +sun could break had become her shroud. And perhaps again it was that +instinct of animal creation, which often is more wonderful than man's +reason, that told Kazan what had happened. For he knew now that she was +helpless--more helpless than the little creatures that had gamboled in +the moonlight a few hours before. He remained close beside her all +that day. + +[Illustration: Kazan gripped at its throat] + +Vainly that day did Joan call for Kazan. Her voice rose to the Sun Rock, +and Gray Wolf's head snuggled closer to Kazan, and Kazan's ears dropped +back, and he licked her wounds. Late in the afternoon Kazan left Gray +Wolf long enough to run to the bottom of the trail and bring up the +snow-shoe rabbit. Gray Wolf muzzled the fur and flesh, but would not +eat. Still a little later Kazan urged her to follow him to the trail. He +no longer wanted to stay at the top of the Sun Rock, and he no longer +wanted Gray Wolf to stay there. Step by step he drew her down the +winding path away from her dead puppies. She would move only when he was +very near her--so near that she could touch his scarred flank with her +nose. + +They came at last to the point in the trail where they had to leap down +a distance of three or four feet from the edge of a rock, and here Kazan +saw how utterly helpless Gray Wolf had become. She whined, and crouched +twenty times before she dared make the spring, and then she jumped +stiff-legged, and fell in a heap at Kazan's feet. After this Kazan did +not have to urge her so hard, for the fall impinged on her the fact that +she was safe only when her muzzle touched her mate's flank. She followed +him obediently when they reached the plain, trotting with her +foreshoulder to his hip. + +Kazan was heading for a thicket in the creek bottom half a mile away, +and a dozen times in that short distance Gray Wolf stumbled and fell. +And each time that she fell Kazan learned a little more of the +limitations of blindness. Once he sprang off in pursuit of a rabbit, but +he had not taken twenty leaps when he stopped and looked back. Gray Wolf +had not moved an inch. She stood motionless, sniffing the air--waiting +for him! For a full minute Kazan stood, also waiting. Then he returned +to her. Ever after this he returned to the point where he had left Gray +Wolf, knowing that he would find her there. + +All that day they remained in the thicket. In the afternoon he visited +the cabin. Joan and her husband were there, and both saw at once +Kazan's torn side and his lacerated head and shoulders. + +"Pretty near a finish fight for him," said the man, after he had +examined him. "It was either a lynx or a bear. Another wolf could not do +that." + +For half an hour Joan worked over him, talking to him all the time, and +fondling him with her soft hands. She bathed his wounds in warm water, +and then covered them with a healing salve, and Kazan was filled again +with that old restful desire to remain with her always, and never to go +back into the forests. For an hour she let him lie on the edge of her +dress, with his nose touching her foot, while she worked on baby things. +Then she rose to prepare supper, and Kazan got up--a little wearily--and +went to the door. Gray Wolf and the gloom of the night were calling him, +and he answered that call with a slouch of his shoulders and a drooping +head. Its old thrill was gone. He watched his chance, and went out +through the door. The moon had risen when he rejoined Gray Wolf. She +greeted his return with a low whine of joy, and muzzled him with her +blind face. In her helplessness she looked happier than Kazan in all his +strength. + +From now on, during the days that followed, it was a last great fight +between blind and faithful Gray Wolf and the woman. If Joan had known of +what lay in the thicket, if she could once have seen the poor creature +to whom Kazan was now all life--the sun, the stars, the moon, and +food--she would have helped Gray Wolf. But as it was she tried to lure +Kazan more and more to the cabin, and slowly she won. + +At last the great day came, eight days after the fight on the Sun Rock. +Kazan had taken Gray Wolf to a wooded point on the river two days +before, and there he had left her the preceding night when he went to +the cabin. This time a stout babiche thong was tied to the collar round +his neck, and he was fastened to a staple in the log wall. Joan and her +husband were up before it was light next day. The sun was just rising +when they all went out, the man carrying the baby, and Joan leading him. +Joan turned and locked the cabin door, and Kazan heard a sob in her +throat as they followed the man down to the river. The big canoe was +packed and waiting. Joan got in first, with the baby. Then, still +holding the babiche thong, she drew Kazan up close to her, so that he +lay with his weight against her. + +The sun fell warmly on Kazan's back as they shoved off, and he closed +his eyes, and rested his head on Joan's lap. Her hand fell softly on his +shoulder. He heard again that sound which the man could not hear, the +broken sob in her throat, as the canoe moved slowly down to the wooded +point. + +Joan waved her hand back at the cabin, just disappearing behind the +trees. + +"Good-by!" she cried sadly. "Good-by--" And then she buried her face +close down to Kazan and the baby, and sobbed. + +The man stopped paddling. + +"You're not sorry--Joan?" he asked. + +They were drifting past the point now, and the scent of Gray Wolf came +to Kazan's nostrils, rousing him, and bringing a low whine from his +throat. + +"You're not sorry--we're going?" Joan shook her head. + +"No," she replied. "Only I've--always lived here--in the forests--and +they're--home!" + +The point with its white finger of sand, was behind them now. And Kazan +was standing rigid, facing it. The man called to him, and Joan lifted +her head. She, too, saw the point, and suddenly the babiche leash +slipped from her fingers, and a strange light leaped into her blue eyes +as she saw what stood at the end of that white tip of sand. It was Gray +Wolf. Her blind eyes were turned toward Kazan. At last Gray Wolf, the +faithful, understood. Scent told her what her eyes could not see. Kazan +and the man-smell were together. And they were going--going--going-- + +"Look!" whispered Joan. + +The man turned. Gray Wolf's forefeet were in the water. And now, as the +canoe drifted farther and farther away, she settled back on her +haunches, raised her head to the sun which she could not see and gave +her last long wailing cry for Kazan. + +The canoe lurched. A tawny body shot through the air--and Kazan was +gone. + +The man reached forward for his rifle. Joan's hand stopped him. Her +face was white. + +"Let him go back to her! Let him go--let him go!" she cried. "It is his +place--with her." + +And Kazan reaching the shore, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and +looked for the last time toward the woman. The canoe was drifting slowly +around the first bend. A moment more and it had disappeared. Gray Wolf +had won. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DAYS OF FIRE + + +From the night of the terrible fight with the big gray lynx on the top +of the Sun Rock, Kazan remembered less and less vividly the old days +when he had been a sledge-dog, and the leader of a pack. He would never +quite forget them, and always there would stand out certain memories +from among the rest, like fires cutting the blackness of night. But as +man dates events from his birth, his marriage, his freedom from a +bondage, or some foundation-step in his career, so all things seemed to +Kazan to begin with two tragedies which had followed one fast upon the +other after the birth of Gray Wolf's pups. + +The first was the fight on the Sun Rock, when the big gray lynx had +blinded his beautiful wolf mate for all time, and had torn her pups into +pieces. He in turn had killed the lynx. But Gray Wolf was still blind. +Vengeance had not been able to give her sight. She could no longer hunt +with him, as they had hunted with the wild wolf-packs out on the plain, +and in the dark forests. So at thought of that night he always snarled, +and his lips curled back to reveal his inch-long fangs. + +The other tragedy was the going of Joan, her baby and her husband. +Something more infallible than reason told Kazan that they would not +come back. Brightest of all the pictures that remained with him was that +of the sunny morning when the woman and the baby he loved, and the man +he endured because of them, had gone away in the canoe, and often he +would go to the point, and gaze longingly down-stream, where he had +leaped from the canoe to return to his blind mate. + +So Kazan's life seemed now to be made up chiefly of three things: his +hatred of everything that bore the scent or mark of the lynx, his +grieving for Joan and the baby, and Gray Wolf. It was natural that the +strongest passion in him should be his hatred of the lynx, for not only +Gray Wolf's blindness and the death of the pups, but even the loss of +the woman and the baby he laid to that fatal struggle on the Sun Rock. +From that hour he became the deadliest enemy of the lynx tribe. Wherever +he struck the scent of the big gray cat he was turned into a snarling +demon, and his hatred grew day by day, as he became more completely a +part of the wild. + +He found that Gray Wolf was more necessary to him now than she had ever +been since the day she had left the wolf-pack for him. He was +three-quarters dog, and the dog-part of him demanded companionship. +There was only Gray Wolf to give him that now. They were alone. +Civilization was four hundred miles south of them. The nearest Hudson's +Bay post was sixty miles to the west. Often, in the days of the woman +and the baby, Gray Wolf had spent her nights alone out in the forest, +waiting and calling for Kazan. Now it was Kazan who was lonely and +uneasy when he was away from her side. + +In her blindness Gray Wolf could no longer hunt with her mate. But +gradually a new code of understanding grew up between them, and through +her blindness they learned many things that they had not known before. +By early summer Gray Wolf could travel with Kazan, if he did not move +too swiftly. She ran at his flank, with her shoulder or muzzle touching +him, and Kazan learned not to leap, but to trot. Very quickly he found +that he must choose the easiest trails for Gray Wolf's feet. When they +came to a space to be bridged by a leap, he would muzzle Gray Wolf and +whine, and she would stand with ears alert--listening. Then Kazan would +take the leap, and she understood the distance she had to cover. She +always over-leaped, which was a good fault. + +In another way, and one that was destined to serve them many times in +the future, she became of greater help than ever to Kazan. Scent and +hearing entirely took the place of sight. Each day developed these +senses more and more, and at the same time there developed between them +the dumb language whereby she could impress upon Kazan what she had +discovered by scent or sound. It became a curious habit of Kazan's +always to look at Gray Wolf when they stopped to listen, or to scent the +air. + +After the fight on the Sun Rock, Kazan had taken his blind mate to a +thick clump of spruce and balsam in the river-bottom, where they +remained until early summer. Every day for weeks Kazan went to the cabin +where Joan and the baby--and the man--had been. For a long time he went +hopefully, looking each day or night to see some sign of life there. But +the door was never open. The boards and saplings at the windows always +remained. Never a spiral of smoke rose from the clay chimney. Grass and +vines began to grow in the path. And fainter and fainter grew that scent +which Kazan could still find about it--the scent of man, of the woman, +the baby. + +One day he found a little baby moccasin under one of the closed windows. +It was old, and worn out, and blackened by snow and rain, but he lay +down beside it, and remained there for a long time, while the baby +Joan--a thousand miles away--was playing with the strange toys of +civilization. Then he returned to Gray Wolf among the spruce and balsam. + +The cabin was the one place to which Gray Wolf would not follow him. At +all other times she was at his side. Now that she had become accustomed +to blindness, she even accompanied him on his hunts, until he struck +game, and began the chase. Then she would wait for him. Kazan usually +hunted the big snow-shoe rabbits. But one night he ran down and killed a +young doe. The kill was too heavy to drag to Gray Wolf, so he returned +to where she was waiting for him and guided her to the feast. In many +ways they became more and more inseparable as the summer lengthened, +until at last, through all the wilderness, their footprints were always +two by two and never one by one. + +Then came the great fire. + +Gray Wolf caught the scent of it when it was still two days to the west. +The sun that night went down in a lurid cloud. The moon, drifting into +the west, became blood red. When it dropped behind the wilderness in +this manner, the Indians called it the Bleeding Moon, and the air was +filled with omens. + +All the next day Gray Wolf was nervous, and toward noon Kazan caught in +the air the warning that she had sensed many hours ahead of him. +Steadily the scent grew stronger, and by the middle of the afternoon the +sun was veiled by a film of smoke. + +The flight of the wild things from the triangle of forest between the +junctions of the Pipestone and Cree Rivers would have begun then, but +the wind shifted. It was a fatal shift. The fire was raging from the +west and south. Then the wind swept straight eastward, carrying the +smoke with it, and during this breathing spell all the wild creatures in +the triangle between the two rivers waited. This gave the fire time to +sweep completely, across the base of the forest triangle, cutting off +the last trails of escape. + +Then the wind shifted again, and the fire swept north. The head of the +triangle became a death-trap. All through the night the southern sky was +filled with a lurid glow, and by morning the heat and smoke and ash were +suffocating. + +Panic-striken, Kazan searched vainly for a means of escape. Not for an +instant did he leave Gray Wolf. It would have been easy for him to swim +across either of the two streams, for he was three-quarters dog. But at +the first touch of water on her paws, Gray Wolf drew back, shrinking. +Like all her breed, she would face fire and death before water. Kazan +urged. A dozen times he leaped in, and swam out into the stream. But +Gray Wolf would come no farther than she could wade. + +They could hear the distant murmuring roar of the fire now. Ahead of it +came the wild things. Moose, caribou and deer plunged into the water of +the streams and swam to the safety of the opposite side. Out upon a +white finger of sand lumbered a big black bear with two cubs, and even +the cubs took to the water, and swam across easily. Kazan watched them, +and whined to Gray Wolf. + +And then out upon that white finger of sand came other things that +dreaded the water as Gray Wolf dreaded it: a big fat porcupine, a sleek +little marten, a fisher-cat that sniffed the air and wailed like a +child. Those things that could not or would not swim outnumbered the +others three to one. Hundreds of little ermine scurried along the shore +like rats, their squeaking little voices sounding incessantly; foxes ran +swiftly along the banks, seeking a tree or a windfall that might bridge +the water for them; the lynx snarled and faced the fire; and Gray +Wolf's own tribe--the wolves--dared take no deeper step than she. + +Dripping and panting, and half choked by heat and smoke, Kazan came to +Gray Wolf's side. There was but one refuge left near them, and that was +the sand-bar. It reached out for fifty feet into the stream. Quickly he +led his blind mate toward it. As they came through the low bush to the +river-bed, something stopped them both. To their nostrils had come the +scent of a deadlier enemy than fire. A lynx had taken possession of the +sand-bar, and was crouching at the end of it. Three porcupines had +dragged themselves into the edge of the water, and lay there like balls, +their quills alert and quivering. A fisher-cat was snarling at the lynx. +And the lynx, with ears laid back, watched Kazan and Gray Wolf as they +began the invasion of the sand-bar. + +Faithful Gray Wolf was full of fight, and she sprang shoulder to +shoulder with Kazan, her fangs bared. With an angry snap, Kazan drove +her back, and she stood quivering and whining while he advanced. +Light-footed, his pointed ears forward, no menace or threat in his +attitude, he advanced. It was the deadly advance of the husky trained +in battle, skilled in the art of killing. A man from civilization would +have said that the dog was approaching the lynx with friendly +intentions. But the lynx understood. It was the old feud of many +generations--made deadlier now by Kazan's memory of that night at the +top of the Sun Rock. + +Instinct told the fisher-cat what was coming, and it crouched low and +flat; the porcupines, scolding like little children at the presence of +enemies and the thickening clouds of smoke, thrust their quills still +more erect. The lynx lay on its belly, like a cat, its hindquarters +twitching, and gathered for the spring. Kazan's feet seemed scarcely to +touch the sand as he circled lightly around it. The lynx pivoted as he +circled, and then it shot in a round snarling ball over the eight feet +of space that separated them. + +Kazan did not leap aside. He made no effort to escape the attack, but +met it fairly with the full force of his shoulders, as sledge-dog meets +sledge-dog. He was ten pounds heavier than the lynx, and for a moment +the big loose-jointed cat with its twenty knife-like claws was thrown +on its side. Like a flash Kazan took advantage of the moment, and drove +for the back of the cat's neck. + +In that same moment blind Gray Wolf leaped in with a snarling cry, and +fighting under Kazan's belly, she fastened her jaws in one of the cat's +hindlegs. The bone snapped. The lynx, twice outweighed, leaped backward, +dragging both Kazan and Gray Wolf. It fell back down on one of the +porcupines, and a hundred quills drove into its body. Another leap and +it was free--fleeing into the face of the smoke. Kazan did not pursue. +Gray Wolf came to his side and licked his neck, where fresh blood was +crimsoning his tawny hide. The fisher-cat lay as if dead, watching them +with fierce little black eyes. The porcupines continued to chatter, as +if begging for mercy. And then a thick black suffocating pall of smoke +drove low over the sand-bar and with it came air that was furnace-hot. + +At the uttermost end of the sand-bar Kazan and Gray Wolf rolled +themselves into balls and thrust their heads under their bodies. The +fire was very near now. The roar of it was like that of a great +cataract, with now and then a louder crash of falling trees. The air +was filled with ash and burning sparks, and twice Kazan drew forth his +head to snap at blazing embers that fell upon and seared him like hot +irons. + +Close along the edge of the stream grew thick green bush, and when the +fire reached this, it burned more slowly, and the heat grew less. Still, +it was a long time before Kazan and Gray Wolf could draw forth their +heads and breathe more freely. Then they found that the finger of sand +reaching out into the river had saved them. Everywhere in that triangle +between the two rivers the world had turned black, and was hot +underfoot. + +The smoke cleared away. The wind changed again, and swung down cool and +fresh from the west and north. The fisher-cat was the first to move +cautiously back to the forests that had been, but the porcupines were +still rolled into balls when Gray Wolf and Kazan left the sand-bar. They +began to travel up-stream, and before night came, their feet were sore +from hot ash and burning embers. + +The moon was strange and foreboding that night, like a spatter of blood +in the sky, and through the long silent hours there was not even the +hoot of an owl to give a sign that life still existed where yesterday +had been a paradise of wild things. Kazan knew that there was nothing to +hunt, and they continued to travel all that night. With dawn they struck +a narrow swamp along the edge of the stream. Here beavers had built a +dam, and they were able to cross over into the green country on the +opposite side. For another day and another night they traveled westward, +and this brought them into the thick country of swamp and timber along +the Waterfound. + +And as Kazan and Gray Wolf came from the west, there came from the +Hudson's Bay post to the east a slim dark-faced French half-breed by the +name of Henri Loti, the most famous lynx hunter in all the Hudson's Bay +country. He was prospecting for "signs," and he found them in abundance +along the Waterfound. It was a game paradise, and the snow-shoe rabbit +abounded in thousands. As a consequence, the lynxes were thick, and +Henri built his trapping shack, and then returned to the post to wait +until the first snows fell, when he would come back with his team, +supplies and traps. + +And up from the south, at this same time, there was slowly working his +way by canoe and trail a young university zoologist who was gathering +material for a book on _The Reasoning of the Wild_. His name was Paul +Weyman, and he had made arrangements to spend a part of the winter with +Henri Loti, the half-breed. He brought with him plenty of paper, a +camera and the photograph of a girl. His only weapon was a pocket-knife. + +And meanwhile Kazan and Gray Wolf found the home they were seeking in a +thick swamp five or six miles from the cabin that Henri Loti had built. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +ALWAYS TWO BY TWO + + +It was January when a guide from the post brought Paul Weyman to Henri +Loti's cabin on the Waterfound. He was a man of thirty-two or three, +full of the red-blooded life that made Henri like him at once. If this +had not been the case, the first few days in the cabin might have been +unpleasant, for Henri was in bad humor. He told Weyman about it their +first night, as they were smoking pipes alongside the redly glowing box +stove. + +"It is damn strange," said Henri. "I have lost seven lynx in the traps, +torn to pieces like they were no more than rabbits that the foxes had +killed. No thing--not even bear--have ever tackled lynx in a trap +before. It is the first time I ever see it. And they are torn up so bad +they are not worth one half dollar at the post. Seven!--that is over two +hundred dollar I have lost! There are two wolves who do it. Two--I know +it by the tracks--always two--an'--never one. They follow my trap-line +an' eat the rabbits I catch. They leave the fisher-cat, an' the mink, +an' the ermine, an' the marten; but the lynx--_sacre_ an' damn!--they +jump on him an' pull the fur from him like you pull the wild cotton +balls from the burn-bush! I have tried strychnine in deer fat, an' I +have set traps and deadfalls, but I can not catch them. They will drive +me out unless I get them, for I have taken only five good lynx, an' they +have destroyed seven." + +This roused Weyman. He was one of that growing number of thoughtful men +who believe that man's egoism, as a race, blinds him to many of the more +wonderful facts of creation. He had thrown down the gantlet, and with a +logic that had gained him a nation-wide hearing, to those who believed +that man was the only living creature who could reason, and that common +sense and cleverness when displayed by any other breathing thing were +merely instinct. The facts behind Henri's tale of woe struck him as +important, and until midnight they talked about the two strange wolves. + +"There is one big wolf an' one smaller," said Henri. "An' it is always +the big wolf who goes in an' fights the lynx. I see that by the snow. +While he's fighting, the smaller wolf makes many tracks in the snow just +out of reach, an' then when the lynx is down, or dead, it jumps in an' +helps tear it into pieces. All that I know by the snow. Only once have I +seen where the smaller one went in an' fought with the other, an' then +there was blood all about that was not lynx blood; I trailed the devils +a mile by the dripping." + +During the two weeks that followed, Weyman found much to add to the +material of his book. Not a day passed that somewhere along Henri's +trap-line they did not see the trails of the two wolves, and Weyman +observed that--as Henri had told him--the footprints were always two by +two, and never one by one. On the third day they came to a trap that had +held a lynx, and at sight of what remained Henri cursed in both French +and English until he was purple in the face. The lynx had been torn +until its pelt was practically worthless. + +Weyman saw where the smaller wolf had waited on its haunches, while its +companion had killed the lynx. He did not tell Henri all he thought. But +the days that followed convinced him more and more that he had found the +most dramatic exemplification of his theory. Back of this mysterious +tragedy of the trap-line there was a _reason_. + +Why did the two wolves not destroy the fisher-cat, the ermine and the +marten? Why was their feud with the lynx alone? + +Weyman was strangely thrilled. He was a lover of wild things, and for +that reason he never carried a gun. And when he saw Henri placing +poison-baits for the two marauders, he shuddered, and when, day after +day, he saw that these poison-baits were untouched, he rejoiced. +Something in his own nature went out in sympathy to the heroic outlaw of +the trap-line who never failed to give battle to the lynx. Nights in the +cabin he wrote down his thoughts and discoveries of the day. One night +he turned suddenly on Henri. + +"Henri, doesn't it ever make you sorry to kill so many wild things?" he +asked. + +Henri stared and shook his head. + +"I kill t'ousand an' t'ousand," he said. "I kill t'ousand more." + +"And there are twenty thousand others just like you in this northern +quarter of the continent--all killing, killing for hundreds of years +back, and yet you can't kill out wild life. The war of Man and the +Beast, you might call it. And, if you could return five hundred years +from now, Henri, you'd still find wild life here. Nearly all the rest of +the world is changing, but you can't change these almost impenetrable +thousands of square miles of ridges and swamps and forests. The +railroads won't come here, and I, for one, thank God for that. Take all +the great prairies to the west, for instance. Why, the old buffalo +trails are still there, plain as day--and yet, towns and cities are +growing up everywhere. Did you ever hear of North Battleford?" + +"Is she near Montreal or Quebec?" Henri asked. + +Weyman smiled, and drew a photograph from his pocket. It was the picture +of a girl. + +"No. It's far to the west, in Saskatchewan. Seven years ago I used to +go up there every year, to shoot prairie chickens, coyotes and elk. +There wasn't any North Battleford then--just the glorious prairie, +hundreds and hundreds of square miles of it. There was a single shack on +the Saskatchewan River, where North Battleford now stands, and I used to +stay there. In that shack there was a little girl, twelve years old. We +used to go out hunting together--for I used to kill things in those +days. And the little girl would cry sometimes when I killed, and I'd +laugh at her. + +"Then a railroad came, and then another, and they joined near the shack, +and all at once a town sprang up. Seven years ago there was only the +shack there, Henri. Two years ago there were eighteen hundred people. +This year, when I came through, there were five thousand, and two years +from now there'll be ten thousand. + +"On the ground where that shack stood are three banks, with a capital of +forty million dollars; you can see the glow of the electric lights of +the city twenty miles away. It has a hundred-thousand dollar college, a +high school, the provincial asylum, a fire department, two clubs, a +board of trade, and it's going to have a street-car line within two +years. Think of that--all where the coyotes howled a few years ago! + +"People are coming in so fast that they can't keep a census. Five years +from now there'll be a city of twenty thousand where the old shack +stood. And the little girl in that shack, Henri--she's a young lady now, +and her people are--well, rich. I don't care about that. The chief thing +is that she is going to marry me in the spring. Because of her I stopped +killing things when she was only sixteen. The last thing I killed was a +prairie wolf, and it had young. Eileen kept the little puppy. She's got +it now--tamed. That's why above all other wild things I love the wolves. +And I hope these two leave your trap-line safe." + +Henri was staring at him. Weyman gave him the picture. It was of a +sweet-faced girl, with deep pure eyes, and there came a twitch at the +corners of Henri's mouth as he looked at it. + +"My Iowaka died t'ree year ago," he said. "She too loved the wild +thing. But them wolf--damn! They drive me out if I can not kill them!" +He put fresh fuel into the stove, and prepared for bed. + +One day the big idea came to Henri. + +Weyman was with him when they struck fresh signs of lynx. There was a +great windfall ten or fifteen feet high, and in one place the logs had +formed a sort of cavern, with almost solid walls on three sides. The +snow was beaten down by tracks, and the fur of rabbit was scattered +about. Henri was jubilant. + +"We got heem--sure!" he said. + +He built the bait-house, set a trap and looked about him shrewdly. Then +he explained his scheme to Weyman. If the lynx was caught, and the two +wolves came to destroy it, the fight would take place in that shelter +under the windfall, and the marauders would have to pass through the +opening. So Henri set five smaller traps, concealing them skilfully +under leaves and moss and snow, and all were far enough away from the +bait-house so that the trapped lynx could not spring them in his +struggles. + +"When they fight, wolf jump this way an' that--an' sure get in," said +Henri. "He miss one, two, t'ree--but he sure get in trap somewhere." + +That same morning a light snow fell, making the work more complete, for +it covered up all footprints and buried the telltale scent of man. That +night Kazan and Gray Wolf passed within a hundred feet of the windfall, +and Gray Wolf's keen scent detected something strange and disquieting in +the air. She informed Kazan by pressing her shoulder against his, and +they swung off at right angles, keeping to windward of the trap-line. + +For two days and three cold starlit nights nothing happened at the +windfall. Henri understood, and explained to Weyman. The lynx was a +hunter, like himself, and also had its hunt-line, which it covered about +once a week. On the fifth night the lynx returned, went to the windfall, +was lured straight to the bait, and the sharp-toothed steel trap closed +relentlessly over its right hindfoot. Kazan and Gray Wolf were traveling +a quarter of a mile deeper in the forest when they heard the clanking of +the steel chain as the lynx fought; to free itself. Ten minutes later +they stood in the door of the windfall cavern. + +It was a white clear night, so filled with brilliant stars that Henri +himself could have hunted by the light of them. The lynx had exhausted +itself, and lay crouching on its belly as Kazan and Gray Wolf appeared. +As usual, Gray Wolf held back while Kazan began the battle. In the first +or second of these fights on the trap-line, Kazan would probably have +been disemboweled or had his jugular vein cut open, had the fierce cats +been free. They were more than his match in open fight, though the +biggest of them fell ten pounds under his weight. Chance had saved him +on the Sun Rock. Gray Wolf and the porcupine had both added to the +defeat of the lynx on the sand-bar. And along Henri's hunting line it +was the trap that was his ally. Even with his enemy thus shackled he +took big chances. And he took bigger chances than ever with the lynx +under the windfall. + +The cat was an old warrior, six or seven years old. His claws were an +inch and a quarter long, and curved like simitars. His forefeet and his +left hindfoot were free, and as Kazan advanced, he drew back, so that +the trap-chain was slack under his body. Here Kazan could not follow his +old tactics of circling about his trapped foe, until it had become +tangled in the chain, or had so shortened and twisted it that there was +no chance for a leap. He had to attack face to face, and suddenly he +lunged in. They met shoulder to shoulder. Kazan's fangs snapped at the +other's throat, and missed. Before he could strike again, the lynx flung +out its free hindfoot, and even Gray Wolf heard the ripping sound that +it made. With a snarl Kazan was flung back, his shoulder torn to the +bone. + +Then it was that one of Henri's hidden traps saved him from a second +attack--and death. Steel jaws snapped over one of his forefeet, and when +he leaped, the chain stopped him. Once or twice before, blind Gray Wolf +had leaped in, when she knew that Kazan was in great danger. For an +instant she forgot her caution now, and as she heard Kazan's snarl of +pain, she sprang in under the windfall. Five traps Henri had hidden in +the space in front of the bait-house, and Gray Wolf's feet found two of +these. She fell on her side, snapping and snarling. In his struggles +Kazan sprung the remaining two traps. One of them missed. The fifth, and +last, caught him by a hindfoot. + +This was a little past midnight. From then until morning the earth and +snow under the windfall were torn up by the struggles of the wolf, the +dog and the lynx to regain their freedom. And when morning came, all +three were exhausted, and lay on their sides, panting and with bleeding +jaws, waiting for the coming of man--and death. + +Henri and Weyman were out early. When they struck off the main line +toward the windfall, Henri pointed to the tracks of Kazan and Gray Wolf, +and his dark face lighted up with pleasure and excitement. When they +reached the shelter under the mass of fallen timber, both stood +speechless for a moment, astounded by what they saw. Even Henri had seen +nothing like this before--two wolves and a lynx, all in traps, and +almost within reach of one another's fangs. But surprise could not long +delay the business of Henri's hunter's instinct. The wolves lay first in +his path, and he was raising his rifle to put a steel-capped bullet +through the base of Kazan's brain, when Weyman caught him eagerly by the +arm. Weyman was staring. His fingers dug into Henri's flesh. His eyes +had caught a glimpse of the steel-studded collar about Kazan's neck. + +"Wait!" he cried. "It's not a wolf. It's a dog!" + +Henri lowered his rifle, staring at the collar. Weyman's eyes shot to +Gray Wolf. She was facing them, snarling, her white fangs bared to the +foes she could not see. Her blind eyes were closed. Where there should +have been eyes there was only hair, and an exclamation broke from +Weyman's lips. + +"Look!" he commanded of Henri. "What in the name of heaven--" + +"One is dog--wild dog that has run to the wolves," said Henri. "And the +other is--wolf." + +"And _blind_!" gasped Weyman. + +"_Oui_, blind, m'sieur," added Henri, falling partly into French in his +amazement. He was raising his rifle again. Weyman seized it firmly. + +[Illustration: "Wait! it's not a wolf!"] + +"Don't kill them, Henri," he said. "Give them to me--alive. Figure up +the value of the lynx they have destroyed, and add to that the wolf +bounty, and I will pay. Alive, they are worth to me a great deal. My +God, a dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" + +He still held Henri's rifle, and Henri was staring at him, as if he did +not yet quite understand. + +Weyman continued speaking, his eyes and face blazing. + +"A dog--and a blind wolf--_mates_!" he repeated. "It is wonderful, +Henri. Down there, they will say I have gone beyond _reason_, when my +book comes out. But I shall have proof. I shall take twenty photographs +here, before you kill the lynx. I shall keep the dog and the wolf alive. +And I shall pay you, Henri, a hundred dollars apiece for the two. May I +have them?" + +Henri nodded. He held his rifle in readiness, while Weyman unpacked his +camera and got to work. Snarling fangs greeted the click of the +camera-shutter--the fangs of wolf and lynx. But Kazan lay cringing, not +through fear, but because he still recognized the mastery of man. And +when he had finished with his pictures, Weyman approached almost within +reach of him, and spoke even more kindly to him than the man who had +lived back in the deserted cabin. + +Henri shot the lynx, and when Kazan understood this, he tore at the end +of his trap-chains and snarled at the writhing body of his forest enemy. +By means of a pole and a babiche noose, Kazan was brought out from under +the windfall and taken to Henri's cabin. The two men then returned with +a thick sack and more babiche, and blind Gray Wolf, still fettered by +the traps, was made prisoner. All the rest of that day Weyman and Henri +worked to build a stout cage of saplings, and when it was finished, the +two prisoners were placed in it. + +Before the dog was put in with Gray Wolf, Weyman closely examined the +worn and tooth-marked collar about his neck. + +On the brass plate he found engraved the one word, "Kazan," and with a +strange thrill made note of it in his diary. + +After this Weyman often remained at the cabin when Henri went out on the +trap-line. After the second day he dared to put his hand between the +sapling bars and touch Kazan, and the next day Kazan accepted a piece of +raw moose meat from his hand. But at his approach, Gray Wolf would +always hide under the pile of balsam in the corner of their prison. The +instinct of generations and perhaps of centuries had taught her that man +was her deadliest enemy. And yet, this man did not hurt her, and Kazan +was not afraid of him. She was frightened at first; then puzzled, and a +growing curiosity followed that. Occasionally, after the third day, she +would thrust her blind face out of the balsam and sniff the air when +Weyman was at the cage, making friends with Kazan. But she would not +eat. Weyman noted that, and each day he tempted her with the choicest +morsels of deer and moose fat. Five days--six--seven passed, and she had +not taken a mouthful. Weyman could count her ribs. + +"She die," Henri told him on the seventh night. "She starve before she +eat in that cage. She want the forest, the wild kill, the fresh blood. +She two--t'ree year old--too old to make civilize." + +Henri went to bed at the usual hour, but Weyman was troubled, and sat +up late. He wrote a long letter to the sweet-faced girl at North +Battleford, and then he turned out the light, and painted visions of her +in the red glow of the fire. He saw her again for that first time when +he camped in the little shack where the fifth city of Saskatchewan now +stood--with her blue eyes, the big shining braid, and the fresh glow of +the prairies in her cheeks. She had hated him--yes, actually hated him, +because he loved to kill. He laughed softly as he thought of that. She +had changed him--wonderfully. + +He rose, opened the door, softly, and went out. Instinctively his eyes +turned westward. The sky was a blaze of stars. In their light he could +see the cage, and he stood, watching and listening. A sound came to him. +It was Gray Wolf gnawing at the sapling bars of her prison. A moment +later there came a low sobbing whine, and he knew that it was Kazan +crying for his freedom. + +Leaning against the side of the cabin was an ax. Weyman seized it, and +his lips smiled silently. He was thrilled by a strange happiness, and a +thousand miles away in that city on the Saskatchewan he could feel +another spirit rejoicing with him. He moved toward the cage. A dozen +blows, and two of the sapling bars were knocked out. Then Weyman drew +back. Gray Wolf found the opening first, and she slipped out into the +starlight like a shadow. But she did not flee. Out in the open space she +waited for Kazan, and for a moment the two stood there, looking at the +cabin. Then they set off into freedom, Gray Wolf's shoulder at Kazan's +flank. + +Weyman breathed deeply. + +"Two by two--always two by two, until death finds one of them," he +whispered. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE RED DEATH + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf wandered northward into the Fond du Lac country, and +were there when Jacques, a Hudson Bay Company's runner, came up to the +post from the south with the first authentic news of the dread +plague--the smallpox. For weeks there had been rumors on all sides. And +rumor grew into rumor. From the east, the south and the west they +multiplied, until on all sides the Paul Reveres of the wilderness were +carrying word that _La Mort Rouge_--the Red Death--was at their heels, +and the chill of a great fear swept like a shivering wind from the edge +of civilization to the bay. Nineteen years before these same rumors had +come up from the south, and the Red Terror had followed. The horror of +it still remained with the forest people, for a thousand unmarked +graves, shunned like a pestilence, and scattered from the lower waters +of James Bay to the lake country of the Athabasca, gave evidence of the +toll it demanded. + +Now and then in their wanderings Kazan and Gray Wolf had come upon the +little mounds that covered the dead. Instinct--something that was +infinitely beyond the comprehension of man--made them _feel_ the +presence of death about them, perhaps smell it in the air. Gray Wolf's +wild blood and her blindness gave her an immense advantage over Kazan +when it came to detecting those mysteries of the air and the earth which +the eyes were not made to see. Each day that had followed that terrible +moonlit night on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded her, had added +to the infallibility of her two chief senses--hearing and scent. And it +was she who discovered the presence of the plague first, just as she had +scented the great forest fire hours before Kazan had found it in the +air. + +Kazan had lured her back to a trap-line. The trail they found was old. +It had not been traveled for many days. In a trap they found a rabbit, +but it had been dead a long time. In another there was the carcass of a +fox, torn into bits by the owls. Most of the traps were sprung. Others +were covered with snow. Kazan, with his three-quarters strain of dog, +ran over the trail from trap to trap, intent only on something +alive--meat to devour. Gray Wolf, in her blindness, scented _death_. It +shivered in the tree-tops above her. She found it in every trap-house +they came to--death--_man death_. It grew stronger and stronger, and +she whined, and nipped Kazan's flank. And Kazan went on. Gray Wolf +followed him to the edge of the clearing in which Loti's cabin stood, +and then she sat back on her haunches, raised her blind face to the gray +sky, and gave a long and wailing cry. In that moment the bristles began +to stand up along Kazan's spine. Once, long ago, he had howled before +the tepee of a master who was newly dead, and he settled back on his +haunches, and gave the death-cry with Gray Wolf. He, too, scented it +now. Death was in the cabin, and over the cabin there stood a sapling +pole, and at the end of the pole there fluttered a strip of red cotton +rag--the warning flag of the plague from Athabasca to the bay. This man, +like a hundred other heroes of the North, had run up the warning before +he laid himself down to die. And that same night, in the cold light of +the moon, Kazan and Gray Wolf swung northward into the country of the +Fond du Lac. + +There preceded them a messenger from the post on Reindeer Lake, who was +passing up the warning that had come from Nelson House and the country +to the southeast. + +"There's smallpox on the Nelson," the messenger informed Williams, at +Fond du Lac, "and it has struck the Crees on Wollaston Lake. God only +knows what it is doing to the Bay Indians, but we hear it is wiping out +the Chippewas between the Albany and the Churchill." He left the same +day with his winded dogs. "I'm off to carry word to the Reveillon people +to the west," he explained. + +Three days later, word came from Churchill that all of the company's +servants and his majesty's subjects west of the bay should prepare +themselves for the coming of the Red Terror. Williams' thin face turned +as white as the paper he held, as he read the words of the Churchill +factor. + +"It means dig graves," he said. "That's the only preparation we can +make." + +He read the paper aloud to the men at Fond du Lac, and every available +man was detailed to spread the warning throughout the post's territory. +There was a quick harnessing of dogs, and on each sledge that went out +was a roll of red cotton cloth--rolls that were ominous of death, lurid +signals of pestilence and horror, whose touch sent shuddering chills +through the men who were about to scatter them among the forest people. +Kazan and Gray Wolf struck the trail of one of these sledges on the Gray +Beaver, and followed it for half a mile. The next day, farther to the +west, they struck another, and on the fourth day still a third. The last +trail was fresh, and Gray Wolf drew back from it as if stung, her fangs +snarling. On the wind there came to them the pungent odor of smoke. They +cut at right angles to the trail, Gray Wolf leaping clear of the marks +in the snow, and climbed to the cap of a ridge. To windward of them, and +down in the plain, a cabin was burning. A team of huskies and a man were +disappearing in the spruce forest. Deep down in his throat Kazan gave a +rumbling whine. Gray Wolf stood as rigid as a rock. In the cabin a +plague-dead man was burning. It was the law of the North. And the +mystery of the funeral pyre came again to Kazan and Gray Wolf. This time +they did not howl, but slunk down into the farther plain, and did not +stop that day until they had buried themselves deep in a dry and +sheltered swamp ten miles to the north. + +After this they followed the days and weeks which marked the winter of +nineteen hundred and ten as one of the most terrible in all the history +of the Northland--a single month in which wild life as well as human +hung in the balance, and when cold, starvation and plague wrote a +chapter in the lives of the forest people which will not be forgotten +for generations to come. + +In the swamp Kazan and Gray Wolf found a home under a windfall. It was a +small comfortable nest, shut in entirely from the snow and wind. Gray +Wolf took possession of it immediately. She flattened herself out on her +belly, and panted to show Kazan her contentment and satisfaction. Nature +again kept Kazan close at her side. A vision came to him, unreal and +dream-like, of that wonderful night under the stars--ages and ages ago, +it seemed--when he had fought the leader of the wolf-pack, and young +Gray Wolf had crept to his side after his victory and had given herself +to him for mate. But this mating season there was no running after the +doe or the caribou, or mingling with the wild pack. They lived chiefly +on rabbit and spruce partridge, because of Gray Wolf's blindness. Kazan +could hunt those alone. The hair had now grown over Gray Wolf's +sightless eyes. She had ceased to grieve, to rub her eyes with her paws, +to whine for the sunlight, the golden moon and the stars. Slowly she +began to forget that she had ever seen those things. She could now run +more swiftly at Kazan's flank. Scent and hearing had become wonderfully +keen. She could wind a caribou two miles distant, and the presence of +man she could pick up at an even greater distance. On a still night she +had heard the splash of a trout half a mile away. And as these two +things--scent and hearing--became more and more developed in her, those +same senses became less active in Kazan. + +He began to depend upon Gray Wolf. She would point out the hiding-place +of a partridge fifty yards from their trail. In their hunts she became +the leader--until game was found. And as Kazan learned to trust to her +in the hunt, so he began just as instinctively to heed her warnings. If +Gray Wolf reasoned, it was to the effect that without Kazan she would +die. She had tried hard now and then to catch a partridge, or a rabbit, +but she had always failed. Kazan meant life to her. And--if she +reasoned--it was to make herself indispensable to her mate. Blindness +had made her different than she would otherwise have been. Again nature +promised motherhood to her. But she did not--as she would have done in +the open, and with sight--hold more and more aloof from Kazan as the +days passed. It was her habit, spring, summer and winter, to snuggle +close to Kazan and lie with her beautiful head resting on his neck or +back. If Kazan snarled at her she did not snap back, but slunk down as +though struck a blow. With her warm tongue she would lick away the ice +that froze to the long hair between Kazan's toes. For days after he had +run a sliver in his paw she nursed his foot. Blindness had made Kazan +absolutely necessary to her existence--and now, in a different way, she +became more and more necessary to Kazan. They were happy in their swamp +home. There was plenty of small game about them, and it was warm under +the windfall. Rarely did they go beyond the limits of the swamp to hunt. +Out on the more distant plains and the barren ridges they occasionally +heard the cry of the wolf-pack on the trail of meat, but it no longer +thrilled them with a desire to join in the chase. + +One day they struck farther than usual to the west. They left the swamp, +crossed a plain over which a fire had swept the preceding year, climbed +a ridge, and descended into a second plain. At the bottom Gray Wolf +stopped and sniffed the air. At these times Kazan always watched her, +waiting eagerly and nervously if the scent was too faint for him to +catch. But to-day he caught the edge of it, and he knew why Gray Wolf's +ears flattened, and her hindquarters drooped. The scent of game would +have made her rigid and alert. But it was not the game smell. It was +human, and Gray Wolf slunk behind Kazan and whined. For several minutes +they stood without moving or making a sound, and then Kazan led the way +on. Less than three hundred yards away they came to a thick clump of +scrub spruce, and almost ran into a snow-smothered tepee. It was +abandoned. Life and fire had not been there for a long time. But from +the tepee had come the man-smell. With legs rigid and his spine +quivering Kazan approached the opening to the tepee. He looked in. In +the middle of the tepee, lying on the charred embers of a fire, lay a +ragged blanket--and in the blanket was wrapped the body of a little +Indian child. Kazan could see the tiny moccasined feet. But so long had +death been there that he could scarcely smell the presence of it. He +drew back, and saw Gray Wolf cautiously nosing about a long and +peculiarly shaped hummock in the snow. She had traveled about it three +times, but never approaching nearer than a man could have reached with a +rifle barrel. At the end of her third circle she sat down on her +haunches, and Kazan went close to the hummock and sniffed. Under that +bulge in the snow, as well as in the tepee, there was death. They slunk +away, their ears flattened and their tails drooping until they trailed +the snow, and did not stop until they reached their swamp home. Even +there Gray Wolf still sniffed the horror of the plague, and her muscles +twitched and shivered as she lay close at Kazan's side. + +That night the big white moon had around its edge a crimson rim. It +meant cold--intense cold. Always the plague came in the days of greatest +cold--the lower the temperature the more terrible its havoc. It grew +steadily colder that night, and the increased chill penetrated to the +heart of the windfall, and drew Kazan and Gray Wolf closer together. +With dawn, which came at about eight o'clock, Kazan and his blind mate +sallied forth into the day. It was fifty degrees below zero. About them +the trees cracked with reports like pistol-shots. In the thickest spruce +the partridges were humped into round balls of feathers. The snow-shoe +rabbits had burrowed deep under the snow or to the heart of the heaviest +windfalls. Kazan and Gray Wolf found few fresh trails, and after an +hour of fruitless hunting they returned to their lair. Kazan, dog-like, +had buried the half of a rabbit two or three days before, and they dug +this out of the snow and ate the frozen flesh. + +All that day it grew colder--steadily colder. The night that followed +was cloudless, with a white moon and brilliant stars. The temperature +had fallen another ten degrees, and nothing was moving. Traps were never +sprung on such nights, for even the furred things--the mink, and the +ermine, and the lynx--lay snug in the holes and the nests they had found +for themselves. An increasing hunger was not strong enough to drive +Kazan and Gray Wolf from their windfall. The next day there was no break +in the terrible cold, and toward noon Kazan set out on a hunt for meat, +leaving Gray Wolf in the windfall. Being three-quarters dog, food was +more necessary to Kazan than to his mate. Nature has fitted the +wolf-breed for famine, and in ordinary temperature Gray Wolf could have +lived for a fortnight without food. At sixty degrees below zero she +could exist a week, perhaps ten days. Only thirty hours had passed +sinee they had devoured the last of the frozen rabbit, and she was quite +satisfied to remain in their snug retreat. + +But Kazan was hungry. He began to hunt in the face of the wind, +traveling toward the burned plain. He nosed about every windfall that he +came to, and investigated the thickets. A thin shot-like snow had +fallen, and in this--from the windfall to the burn--he found but a +single trail, and that was the trail of an ermine. Under a windfall he +caught the warm scent of a rabbit, but the rabbit was as safe from him +there as were the partridges in the trees, and after an hour of futile +digging and gnawing he gave up his effort to reach it. For three hours +he had hunted when he returned to Gray Wolf. He was exhausted. While +Gray Wolf, with the instinct of the wild, had saved her own strength and +energy, Kazan had been burning up his reserve forces, and was hungrier +than ever. + +The moon rose clear and brilliant in the sky again that night, and Kazan +set out once more on the hunt. He urged Gray Wolf to accompany him, +whining for her outside the windfall--returning for her twice--but +Gray Wolf laid her ears aslant and refused to move. The temperature had +now fallen to sixty-five or seventy degrees below zero, and with it +there came from the north an increasing wind, making the night one in +which human life could not have existed for an hour. By midnight Kazan +was back under the windfall. The wind grew stronger. It began to wail in +mournful dirges over the swamp, and then it burst in fierce shrieking +volleys, with intervals of quiet between. These were the first warnings +from the great barrens that lay between the last lines of timber and the +Arctic. With morning the storm burst in all its fury from out of the +north, and Gray Wolf and Kazan lay close together and shivered as they +listened to the roar of it over the windfall. Once Kazan thrust his head +and shoulders out from the shelter of the fallen trees, but the storm +drove him back. Everything that possessed life had sought shelter, +according to its way and instinct. The furred creatures like the mink +and the ermine were safest, for during the warmer hunting days they were +of the kind that cached meat. The wolves and the foxes had sought out +the windfalls, and the rocks. Winged things, with the exception of the +owls, who were a tenth part body and nine-tenths feathers, burrowed +under snow-drifts or found shelter in thick spruce. To the hoofed and +horned animals the storm meant greatest havoc. The deer, the caribou and +the moose could not crawl under windfalls or creep between rocks. The +best they could do was to lie down in the lee of a drift, and allow +themselves to be covered deep with the protecting snow. Even then they +could not keep their shelter long, for they had to _eat_. For eighteen +hours out of the twenty-four the moose had to feed to keep himself alive +during the winter. His big stomach demanded quantity, and it took him +most of his time to nibble from the tops of bushes the two or three +bushels he needed a day. The caribou required almost as much--the deer +least of the three. + +And the storm kept up that day, and the next, and still a third--three +days and three nights--and the third day and night there came with it a +stinging, shot-like snow that fell two feet deep on the level, and in +drifts of eight and ten. It was the "heavy snow" of the Indians--the +snow that lay like lead on the earth, and under which partridges and +rabbits were smothered in thousands. + +On the fourth day after the beginning of the storm Kazan and Gray Wolf +issued forth from the windfall. There was no longer a wind--no more +falling snow. The whole world lay under a blanket of unbroken white, and +it was intensely cold. + +The plague had worked its havoc with men. Now had come the days of +famine and death for the wild things. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE TRAIL OF HUNGER + + +Kazan and Gray Wolf had been a hundred and forty hours without food. To +Gray Wolf this meant acute discomfort, a growing weakness. To Kazan it +was starvation. Six days and six nights of fasting had drawn in their +ribs and put deep hollows in front of their hindquarters. Kazan's eyes +were red, and they narrowed to slits as he looked forth into the day. +Gray Wolf followed him this time when he went out on the hard snow. +Eagerly and hopefully they began the hunt in the bitter cold. They swung +around the edge of the windfall, where there had always been rabbits. +There were no tracks now, and no scent. They continued in a horseshoe +circle through the swamp, and the only scent they caught was that of a +snow-owl perched up in a spruce. They came to the burn and turned back, +hunting the opposite side of the swamp. On this side there was a ridge. +They climbed the ridge, and from the cap of it looked out over a world +that was barren of life. Ceaselessly Gray Wolf sniffed the air, but she +gave no signal to Kazan. On the top of the ridge Kazan stood panting. +His endurance was gone. On their return through the swamp he stumbled +over an obstacle which he tried to clear with a jump. Hungrier and +weaker, they returned to the windfall. The night that followed was +clear, and brilliant with stars. They hunted the swamp again. Nothing +was moving--save one other creature, and that was a fox. Instinct told +them that it was futile to follow him. + +It was then that the old thought of the cabin returned to Kazan. Two +things the cabin had always meant to him--warmth and food. And far +beyond the ridge was the cabin, where he and Gray Wolf had howled at the +scent of death. He did not think of man--or of that mystery which he had +howled at. He thought only of the cabin, and the cabin had always meant +food. He set off in a straight line for the ridge, and Gray Wolf +followed. They crossed the ridge and the burn beyond, and entered the +edge of a second swamp. Kazan was hunting listlessly now. His head hung +low. His bushy tail dragged in the snow. He was intent on the +cabin--only the cabin. It was his last hope. But Gray Wolf was still +alert, taking in the wind, and lifting her head whenever Kazan stopped +to snuffle his chilled nose in the snow. At last it came--the scent! +Kazan had moved on, but he stopped when he found that Gray Wolf was not +following. All the strength that was in his starved body revealed itself +in a sudden rigid tenseness as he looked at his mate. Her forefeet were +planted firmly to the east; her slim gray head was reaching out for the +scent; her body trembled. + +Then--suddenly--they heard a sound, and with a whining cry Kazan set out +in its direction, with Gray Wolf at his flank. The scent grew stronger +and stronger in Gray Wolf's nostrils, and soon it came to Kazan. It was +not the scent of a rabbit or a partridge. It was big game. They +approached cautiously, keeping full in the wind. The swamp grew +thicker, the spruce more dense, and now--from a hundred yards ahead of +them--there came a crashing of locked and battling horns. Ten seconds +more they climbed over a snowdrift, and Kazan stopped and dropped flat +on his belly. Gray Wolf crouched close at his side, her blind eyes +turned to what she could smell but could not see. + +Fifty yards from them a number of moose had gathered for shelter in the +thick spruce. They had eaten clear a space an acre in extent. The trees +were cropped bare as high as they could reach, and the snow was beaten +hard under their feet. There were six animals in the acre, two of them +bulls--and these bulls were fighting, while three cows and a yearling +were huddled in a group watching the mighty duel. Just before the storm +a young bull, sleek, three-quarters grown, and with the small compact +antlers of a four-year-old, had led the three cows and the yearling to +this sheltered spot among the spruce. Until last night he had been +master of the herd. During the night the older bull had invaded his +dominion. The invader was four times as old as the young bull. He was +half again as heavy. His huge palmate horns, knotted and irregular--but +massive--spoke of age. A warrior of a hundred fights, he had not +hesitated to give battle in his effort to rob the younger bull of his +home and family. Three times they had fought since dawn, and the +hard-trodden snow was red with blood. The smell of it came to Kazan's +and Gray Wolf's nostrils. Kazan sniffed hungrily. Queer sounds rolled up +and down in Gray Wolf's throat, and she licked her jaws. + +For a moment the two fighters drew a few yards apart, and stood with +lowered heads. The old bull had not yet won victory. The younger bull +represented youth and endurance; in the older bull those things were +pitted against craft, greater weight, maturer strength--and a head and +horns that were like a battering ram. But in that great hulk of the +older bull there was one other thing--age. His huge sides were panting. +His nostrils were as wide as bells. Then, as if some invisible spirit of +the arena had given the signal, the animals came together again. The +crash of their horns could have been heard half a mile away, and under +twelve hundred pounds of flesh and bone the younger hull went plunging +back upon his haunches. Then was when youth displayed itself. In an +instant he was up, and locking horns with his adversary. Twenty times he +had done this, and each attack had seemed filled with increasing +strength. And now, as if realizing that the last moments of the last +fight had come, he twisted the old bull's neck and fought as he had +never fought before. Kazan and Gray Wolf both heard the sharp crack that +followed--as if a dry stick had been stepped upon and broken. It was +February, and the hoofed animals were already beginning to shed their +horns--especially the older bulls, whose palmate growths drop first. +This fact gave victory to the younger bull in the blood-stained arena a +few yards from Gray Wolf and Kazan. From its socket in the old bull's +skull one of his huge antlers broke with that sharp snapping sound, and +in another moment four inches of stiletto-like horn buried itself back +of his foreleg. In an instant all hope and courage left him, and he +swung backward yard by yard, with the younger bull prodding his neck and +shoulders until blood dripped from him in little streams. At the edge +of the clearing he flung himself free and crashed off into the forest. + +The younger bull did not pursue. He tossed his head, and stood for a few +moments with heaving sides and dilated nostrils, facing in the direction +his vanquished foe had taken. Then he turned, and trotted back to the +still motionless cows and yearling. + +Kazan and Gray Wolf were quivering. Gray Wolf slunk back from the edge +of the clearing, and Kazan followed. No longer were they interested in +the cows and the young bull. From that clearing they had seen meat +driven forth--meat that was beaten in fight, and bleeding. Every +instinct of the wild pack returned to Gray Wolf now--and in Kazan the +mad desire to taste the blood he smelled. Swiftly they turned toward the +blood-stained trail of the old bull, and when they came to it they found +it spattered red. Kazan's jaws dripped as the hot scent drove the blood +like veins of fire through his weakened body. His eyes were reddened by +starvation, and in them there was a light now that they had never known +even in the days of the wolf-pack. + +He set off swiftly, almost forgetful of Gray Wolf. But his mate no +longer required his flank for guidance. With her nose close to the trail +she ran--ran as she had run in the long and thrilling hunts before +blindness came. Half a mile from the spruce thicket they came upon the +old bull. He had sought shelter behind a clump of balsam, and he stood +over a growing pool of blood in the snow. He was still breathing hard. +His massive head, grotesque now with its one antler, was drooping. +Flecks of blood dropped from his distended nostrils. Even then, with the +old bull weakened by starvation, exhaustion and loss of blood, a +wolf-pack would have hung back before attacking. Where they would have +hesitated, Kazan leaped in with a snarling cry. For an instant his fangs +sunk into the thick hide of the bull's throat. Then he was flung +back--twenty feet. Hunger gnawing at his vitals robbed him of all +caution, and he sprang to the attack again--full at the bull's +front--while Gray Wolf crept up unseen behind, seeking in her blindness +the vulnerable part which nature had not taught Kazan to find. + +This time Kazan was caught fairly on the broad palmate leaf of the +bull's antler, and he was flung back again, half stunned. In that same +moment Gray Wolf's long white teeth cut like knives through one of the +bull's rope-like hamstrings. For thirty seconds she kept the hold, while +the bull plunged wildly in his efforts to trample her underfoot. Kazan +was quick to learn, still quicker to be guided by Gray Wolf, and he +leaped in again, snapping for a hold on the bulging cord just above the +knee. He missed, and as he lunged forward on his shoulders Gray Wolf was +flung off. But she had accomplished her purpose. Beaten in open battle +with one of his kind, and now attacked by a still deadlier foe, the old +bull began to retreat. As he went, one hip sank under him at every step. +The tendon of his left leg was bitten half through. + +Without being able to see, Gray Wolf seemed to realize what had +happened. Again she was the pack-wolf--with all the old wolf strategy. +Twice flung back by the old bull's horn, Kazan knew better than to +attack openly again. Gray Wolf trotted after the bull, but he remained +behind for a moment to lick up hungrily mouthfuls of the blood-soaked +snow. Then he followed, and ran close against Gray Wolf's side, fifty +yards behind the bull. There was more blood in the trail now--a thin red +ribbon of it. Fifteen minutes later the bull stopped again, and faced +about, his great head lowered. His eyes were red. There was a droop to +his neck and shoulders that spoke no longer of the unconquerable +fighting spirit that had been a part of him for nearly a score of years. +No longer was he lord of the wilderness about him; no longer was there +defiance in the poise of his splendid head, or the flash of eager fire +in his bloodshot eyes. His breath came with a gasping sound that was +growing more and more distinct. A hunter would have known what it meant. +The stiletto-point of the younger bull's antler had gone home, and the +old bull's lungs were failing him. More than once Gray Wolf had heard +that sound in the early days of her hunting with the pack, and she +understood. Slowly she began to circle about the wounded monarch at a +distance of about twenty yards. Kazan kept at her side. + +Once--twice--twenty times they made that slow circle, and with each turn +they made the old bull turned, and his breath grew heavier and his head +drooped lower. Noon came, and was followed by the more intense cold of +the last half of the day. Twenty circles became a hundred--two +hundred--and more. Under Gray Wolf's and Kazan's feet the snow grew hard +in the path they made. Under the old bull's widespread hoofs the snow +was no longer white--but red. A thousand times before this unseen +tragedy of the wilderness had been enacted. It was an epoch of that life +where life itself means the survival of the fittest, where to live means +to kill, and to die means to perpetuate life. At last, in that steady +and deadly circling of Gray Wolf and Kazan, there came a time when the +old bull did not turn--then a second, a third and a fourth time, and +Gray Wolf seemed to know. With Kazan she drew back from the hard-beaten +trail, and they flattened themselves on their bellies under a dwarf +spruce--and waited. For many minutes the bull stood motionless, his +hamstrung quarter sinking lower and lower. And then with a deep +blood-choked gasp he sank down. + +For a long time Kazan and Gray Wolf did not move, and when at last they +returned to the beaten trail the bull's heavy head was resting on the +snow. Again they began to circle, and now the circle narrowed foot by +foot, until only ten yards--then nine--then eight--separated them from +their prey. The bull attempted to rise, and failed. Gray Wolf heard the +effort. She heard him sink back and suddenly she leaped in swiftly and +silently from behind. Her sharp fangs buried themselves in the bull's +nostrils, and with the first instinct of the husky, Kazan sprang for a +throat hold. This time he was not flung off. It was Gray Wolf's terrible +hold that gave him time to tear through the half-inch hide, and to bury +his teeth deeper and deeper, until at last they reached the jugular. A +gush of warm blood spurted into his face. But he did not let go. Just as +he had held to the jugular of his first buck on that moonlight night a +long time ago, so he held to the old bull now. It was Gray Wolf who +unclamped his jaws. She drew back, sniffing the air, listening. Then, +slowly, she raised her head, and through the frozen and starving +wilderness there went her wailing triumphant cry--the call to meat. + +For them the days of famine had passed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE RIGHT OF FANG + + +After the fight Kazan lay down exhausted in the blood-stained snow, +while faithful Gray Wolf, still filled with the endurance of her wild +wolf breed, tore fiercely at the thick skin on the bull's neck to lay +open the red flesh. When she had done this she did not eat, but ran to +Kazan's side and whined softly as she muzzled him with her nose. After +that they feasted, crouching side by side at the bull's neck and tearing +at the warm sweet flesh. + +The last pale light of the northern day was fading swiftly into night +when they drew back, gorged until there were no longer hollows in their +sides. The faint wind died away. The clouds that had hung in the sky +during the day drifted eastward, and the moon shone brilliant and clear. +For an hour the night continued to grow lighter. To the brilliance of +the moon and the stars there was added now the pale fires of the aurora +borealis, shivering and flashing over the Pole. + +Its hissing crackling monotone, like the creaking of steel +sledge-runners on frost-filled snow, came faintly to the ears of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. + +As yet they had not gone a hundred yards from the dead bull, and at the +first sound of that strange mystery in the northern skies they stopped +and listened to it, alert and suspicious. Then they laid their ears +aslant and trotted slowly back to the meat they had killed. Instinct +told them that it was theirs only by right of fang. They had fought to +kill it. And it was in the law of the wild that they would have to fight +to keep it. In good hunting days they would have gone on and wandered +under the moon and the stars. But long days and nights of starvation had +taught them something different now. + +On that clear and stormless night following the days of plague and +famine, a hundred thousand hungry creatures came out from their retreats +to hunt for food. For eighteen hundred miles east and west and a +thousand miles north and south, slim gaunt-bellied creatures hunted +under the moon and the stars. Something told Kazan and Gray Wolf that +this hunt was on, and never for an instant did they cease their +vigilance. At last they lay down at the edge of the spruce thicket, and +waited. Gray Wolf muzzled Kazan gently with her blind face. The uneasy +whine in her throat was a warning to him. Then she sniffed the air, and +listened--sniffed and listened. + +Suddenly every muscle in their bodies grew rigid. Something living had +passed near them, something that they could not see or hear, and +scarcely scent. It came again, as mysterious as a shadow, and then out +of the air there floated down as silently as a huge snowflake a great +white owl. Kazan saw the hungry winged creature settle on the bull's +shoulder. Like a flash he was out from his cover, Gray Wolf a yard +behind him. With an angry snarl he lunged at the white robber, and his +jaws snapped on empty air. His leap carried him clean over the bull. He +turned, but the owl was gone. + +Nearly all of his old strength had returned to him now. He trotted about +the bull, the hair along his spine bristling like a brush, his eyes +wide and menacing. He snarled at the still air. His jaws clicked, and he +sat back on his haunches and faced the blood-stained trail that the +moose had left before he died. Again that instinct as infallible as +reason told him that danger would come from there. + +Like a red ribbon the trail ran back through the wilderness. The little +swift-moving ermine were everywhere this night, looking like white rats +as they dodged about in the moonlight. They were first to find the +trail, and with all the ferocity of their blood-eating nature followed +it with quick exciting leaps. A fox caught the scent of it a quarter of +a mile to windward, and came nearer. From out of a deep windfall a +beady-eyed, thin-bellied fisher-cat came forth, and stopped with his +feet in the crimson ribbon. + +It was the fisher-cat that brought Kazan out; from under his cover of +spruce again. In the moonlight there was a sharp quick fight, a snarling +and scratching, a cat-like yowl of pain, and the fisher forgot his +hunger in flight. Kazan returned to Gray Wolf with a lacerated and +bleeding nose. Gray Wolf licked it sympathetically, while Kazan stood +rigid and listening. + +The fox swung swiftly away with the wind, warned by the sounds of +conflict. He was not a fighter, but a murderer who killed from behind, +and a little later he leaped upon an owl and tore it into bits for the +half-pound of flesh within the mass of feathers. + +But nothing could drive back those little white outlaws of the +wilderness--the ermine. They would have stolen between the feet of man +to get at the warm flesh and blood of the freshly killed bull. Kazan +hunted them savagely. They were too quick for him, more like elusive +flashes in the moonlight than things of life. They burrowed under the +old bull's body and fed while he raved and filled his mouth with snow. +Gray Wolf sat placidly on her haunches. The little ermine did not +trouble her, and after a time Kazan realized this, and flung himself +down beside her, panting and exhausted. + +For a long time after that the night was almost unbroken by sound. Once +in the far distance there came the cry of a wolf, and now and then, to +punctuate the deathly silence, the snow owl hooted in blood-curdling +protest from his home in the spruce-tops. The moon was straight above +the old bull when Gray Wolf scented the first real danger. Instantly she +gave the warning to Kazan and faced the bloody trail, her lithe body +quivering, her fangs gleaming in the starlight, a snarling whine in her +throat. Only in the face of their deadliest enemy, the lynx--the +terrible fighter who had blinded her long ago in that battle on the Sun +Rock!--did she give such warning as this to Kazan. He sprang ahead of +her, ready for battle even before he caught the scent of the gray +beautiful creature of death stealing over the trail. + +Then came the interruption. From a mile away there burst forth a single +fierce long-drawn howl. + +After all, that was the cry of the true master of the wilderness--the +wolf. It was the cry of hunger. It was the cry that sent men's blood +running more swiftly through their veins, that brought the moose and the +deer to their feet shivering in every limb--the cry that wailed like a +note of death through swamp and forest and over the snow-smothered +ridges until its faintest echoes reached for miles into the starlit +night. + +There was silence, and in that awesome stillness Kazan and Gray Wolf +stood shoulder to shoulder facing the cry, and in response to that cry +there worked within them a strange and mystic change, for what they had +heard was not a warning or a menace but the call of Brotherhood. Away +off there--beyond the lynx and the fox and the fisher-cat, were the +creatures of their kind, the wild-wolf pack, to which the right to all +flesh and blood was common--in which existed that savage socialism of +the wilderness, the Brotherhood of the Wolf. And Gray Wolf, setting back +on her haunches, sent forth the response to that cry--a wailing +triumphant note that told her hungry brethren there was feasting at the +end of the trail. + +And the lynx, between those two cries, sneaked off into the wide and +moonlit spaces of the forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A FIGHT UNDER THE STARS + + +On their haunches Kazan and Gray Wolf waited. Five minutes passed, +ten--fifteen--and Gray Wolf became uneasy. No response had followed her +call. Again she howled, with Kazan quivering and listening beside her, +and again there followed that dead stillness of the night. This was not +the way of the pack. She knew that it had not gone beyond the reach of +her voice and its silence puzzled her. And then in a flash it came to +them both that the pack, or the single wolf whose cry they had heard, +was very near them. The scent was warm. A few moments later Kazan saw a +moving object in the moonlight. It was followed by another, and still +another, until there were five slouching in a half-circle about them, +seventy yards away. Then they laid themselves flat in the snow and were +motionless. + +A snarl turned Kazan's eyes to Gray Wolf. His blind mate had drawn +back. Her white fangs gleamed menacingly in the starlight. Her ears were +flat. Kazan was puzzled. Why was she signaling danger to him when it was +the wolf, and not the lynx, out there in the snow? And why did the +wolves not come in and feast? Slowly he moved toward them, and Gray Wolf +called to him with her whine. He paid no attention to her, but went on, +stepping lightly, his head high in the air, his spine bristling. + +In the scent of the strangers, Kazan was catching something now that was +strangely familiar. It drew him toward them more swiftly and when at +last he stopped twenty yards from where the little group lay flattened +in the snow, his thick brush waved slightly. One of the animals sprang +up and approached. The others followed and in another moment Kazan was +in the midst of them, smelling and smelled, and wagging his tail. They +were dogs, and not wolves. + +In some lonely cabin in the wilderness their master had died, and they +had taken to the forests. They still bore signs of the sledge-traces. +About their necks were moose-hide collars. The hair was worn short at +their flanks, and one still dragged after him three feet of corded +babiche trace. Their eyes gleamed red and hungry in the glow of the moon +and the stars. They were thin, and gaunt and starved, and Kazan suddenly +turned and trotted ahead of them to the side of the dead bull. Then he +fell back and sat proudly on his haunches beside Gray Wolf, listening to +the snapping of jaws and the rending of flesh as the starved pack +feasted. + +Gray Wolf slunk closer to Kazan. She muzzled his neck and Kazan gave her +a swift dog-like caress of his tongue, assuring her that all was well. +She flattened herself in the snow when the dogs had finished and came up +in their dog way to sniff at her, and make closer acquaintance with +Kazan. Kazan towered over her, guarding her. One huge red-eyed dog who +still dragged the bit of babiche trace muzzled Gray Wolf's soft neck for +a fraction of a second too long, and Kazan uttered a savage snarl of +warning. The dog drew back, and for a moment their fangs gleamed over +Gray Wolf's blind face. It was the Challenge of the Breed. + +The big husky was the leader of the pack, and if one of the other dogs +had snarled at him, as Kazan snarled he would have leaped at his throat. +But in Kazan, standing fierce and half wild over Gray Wolf, he +recognized none of the serfdom of the sledge-dogs. It was master facing +master; in Kazan it was more than that for he was Gray Wolf's mate. In +an instant more he would have leaped over her body to have fought for +her, more than for the right of leadership. But the big husky turned +away sullenly, growling, still snarling, and vented his rage by nipping +fiercely at the flank of one of his sledge-mates. + +Gray Wolf understood what had happened, though she could not see. She +shrank closer to Kazan. She knew that the moon and the stars had looked +down on that thing that always meant death--the challenge to the right +of mate. With her luring coyness, whining and softly muzzling his +shoulder and neck, she tried to draw Kazan away from the pad-beaten +circle in which the bull lay. Kazan's answer was an ominous rolling of +smothered thunder deep down in his throat. He lay down beside her, +licked her blind face swiftly, and faced the stranger dogs. + +The moon sank lower and lower and at last dropped behind the western +forests. The stars grew paler. One by one they faded from the sky and +after a time there followed the cold gray dawn of the North. In that +dawn the big husky leader rose from the hole he had made in the snow and +returned to the bull. Kazan, alert, was on his feet in an instant and +stood also close to the bull. The two circled ominously, their heads +lowered, their crests bristling. The husky drew away, and Kazan crouched +at the bull's neck and began tearing at the frozen flesh. He was not +hungry. But in this way he showed his right to the flesh, his defiance +of the right of the big husky. + +For a few seconds he forgot Gray Wolf. The husky had slipped back like a +shadow and now he stood again over Gray Wolf, sniffing her neck and +body. Then he whined. In that whine were the passion, the invitation, +the demand of the Wild. So quickly that the eye could scarcely follow +her movement faithful Gray Wolf sank her gleaming fangs in the husky's +shoulder. + +A gray streak--nothing more tangible than a streak of gray, silent and +terrible, shot through the dawn-gloom. It was Kazan. He came without a +snarl, without a cry, and in a moment he and the husky were in the +throes of terrific battle. + +The four other huskies ran in quickly and stood waiting a dozen paces +from the combatants. Gray Wolf lay crouched on her belly. The giant +husky and the quarter-strain wolf-dog were not fighting like sledge-dog +or wolf. For a few moments rage and hatred made them fight like +mongrels. Both had holds. Now one was down, and now the other, and so +swiftly did they change their positions that the four waiting +sledge-dogs were puzzled and stood motionless. Under other conditions +they would have leaped upon the first of the fighters to be thrown upon +his back and torn him to pieces. That was the way of the wolf and the +wolf-dog. But now they stood back, hesitating and fearful. + +The big husky had never been beaten in battle. Great Dane ancestors had +given him a huge bulk and a jaw that could crush an ordinary dog's head. +But in Kazan he was meeting not only the dog and the wolf, but all that +was best in the two. And Kazan had the advantage of a few hours of rest +and a full stomach. More than that, he was fighting for Gray Wolf. His +fangs had sunk deep in the husky's shoulder, and the husky's long teeth +met through the hide and flesh of his neck. An inch deeper, and they +would have pierced his jugular. Kazan knew this, as he crunched his +enemy's shoulder-bone, and every instant--even in their fiercest +struggling--he was guarding against a second and more successful lunge +of those powerful jaws. + +At last the lunge came, and quicker than the wolf itself Kazan freed +himself and leaped back. His chest dripped blood, but he did not feel +the hurt. They began slowly to circle, and now the watching sledge-dogs +drew a step or two nearer, and their jaws drooled nervously and their +red eyes glared as they waited for the fatal moment. Their eyes were on +the big husky. He became the pivot of Kazan's wider circle now, and he +limped as he turned. His shoulder was broken. His ears were flattened +as he watched Kazan. + +Kazan's ears were erect, and his feet touched the snow lightly. All his +fighting cleverness and all his caution had returned to him. The blind +rage of a few moments was gone and he fought now as he had fought his +deadliest enemy, the long-clawed lynx. Five times he circled around the +husky, and then like a shot he was in, sending his whole weight against +the husky's shoulder, with the momentum of a ten-foot leap behind it. +This time he did not try for a hold, but slashed at the husky's jaws. It +was the deadliest of all attacks when that merciless tribunal of death +stood waiting for the first fall of the vanquished. The huge dog was +thrown from his feet. For a fatal moment he rolled upon his side and in +the moment his four sledge-mates were upon him. All of their hatred of +the weeks and months in which the long-fanged leader had bullied them in +the traces was concentrated upon him now and he was literally torn into +pieces. + +Kazan pranced to Gray Wolf's side and with a joyful whine she laid her +head over his neck. Twice he had fought the Fight of Death for her. +Twice he had won. And in her blindness Gray Wolf's soul--if soul she +had--rose in exultation to the cold gray sky, and her breast panted +against Kazan's shoulder as she listened to the crunching of fangs in +the flesh and bone of the foe her lord and master had overthrown. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CALL + + +Followed days of feasting on the frozen flesh of the old bull. In vain +Gray Wolf tried to lure Kazan off into the forests and the swamps. Day +by day the temperature rose. There was hunting now. And Gray Wolf wanted +to be alone--with Kazan. But with Kazan, as with most men, leadership +and power roused new sensations. And he was the leader of the dog-pack, +as he had once been a leader among the wolves. Not only Gray Wolf +followed at his flank now, but the four huskies trailed behind him. Once +more he was experiencing that triumph and strange thrill that he had +almost forgotten and only Gray Wolf, in that eternal night of her +blindness, felt with dread foreboding the danger into which his newly +achieved czarship might lead him. + +For three days and three nights they remained in the neighborhood of the +dead moose, ready to defend it against others, and yet each day and +each night growing less vigilant in their guard. Then came the fourth +night, on which they killed a young doe. Kazan led in that chase and for +the first time, in the excitement of having the pack at his back, he +left his blind mate behind. When they came to the kill he was the first +to leap at its soft throat. And not until he had begun to tear at the +doe's flesh did the others dare to eat. He was master. He could send +them back with a snarl. At the gleam of his fangs they crouched +quivering on their bellies in the snow. + +Kazan's blood was fomented with brute exultation, and the excitement and +fascination that came in the possession of new power took the place of +Gray Wolf each day a little more. She came in half an hour after the +kill, and there was no longer the lithesome alertness to her slender +legs, or gladness in the tilt of her ears or the poise of her head. She +did not eat much of the doe. Her blind face was turned always in Kazan's +direction. Wherever he moved she followed with her unseeing eyes, as if +expecting each moment his old signal to her--that low throat-note that +had called to her so often when they were alone in the wilderness. + +In Kazan, as leader of the pack, there was working a curious change. If +his mates had been wolves it would not have been difficult for Gray Wolf +to have lured him away. But Kazan was among his own kind. He was a dog. +And they were dogs. Fires that had burned down and ceased to warm him +flamed up in him anew. In his life with Gray Wolf one thing had +oppressed him as it could not oppress her, and that thing was +loneliness. Nature had created him of that kind which requires +companionship--not of one but of many. It had given him birth that he +might listen to and obey the commands of the voice of man. He had grown +to hate men, but of the dogs--his kind--he was a part. He had been happy +with Gray Wolf, happier than he had ever been in the companionship of +men and his blood-brothers. But he had been a long time separated from +the life that had once been his and the call of blood made him for a +time forget. And only Gray Wolf, with that wonderful super-instinct +which nature was giving her in place of her lost sight, foresaw the end +to which it was leading him. + +Each day the temperature continued to rise until when the sun was +warmest the snow began to thaw a little. This was two weeks after the +fight near the bull. Gradually the pack had swung eastward, until it was +now fifty miles east and twenty miles south of the old home under the +windfall. More than ever Gray Wolf began to long for their old nest +under the fallen trees. Again with those first promises of spring in +sunshine and air, there was coming also for the second time in her life +the promise of approaching motherhood. + +But her efforts to draw Kazan back were unavailing, and in spite of her +protest he wandered each day a little farther east and south at the head +of his pack. + +Instinct impelled the four huskies to move in that direction. They had +not yet been long enough a part of the wild to forget the necessity of +man and in that direction there was man. In that direction, and not far +from them now, was the Hudson Bay Company's post to which they and their +dead master owed their allegiance. Kazan did not know this, but one day +something happened to bring back visions and desires that widened still +more the gulf between him and Gray Wolf. + +They had come to the cap of a ridge when something stopped them. It was +a man's voice crying shrilly that word of long ago that had so often +stirred the blood in Kazan's own veins--"_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! +m'hoosh!"_--and from the ridge they looked down upon the open space of +the plain, where a team of six dogs was trotting ahead of a sledge, with +a man running behind them, urging them on at every other step with that +cry of "_m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!"_ + +Trembling and undecided, the four huskies and the wolf-dog stood on the +ridge with Gray Wolf cringing behind them. Not until man and dogs and +sledge had disappeared did they move, and then they trotted down to the +trail and sniffed at it whiningly and excitedly. For a mile or two they +followed it, Kazan and his mates going fearlessly in the trail. Gray +Wolf hung back, traveling twenty yards to the right of them, with the +hot man-scent driving the blood feverishly through her brain. Only her +love for Kazan--and the faith she still had in him--kept her that near. + +At the edge of a swamp Kazan halted and turned away from the trail. With +the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion +which nothing could quite wipe out--the suspicion that was an +inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf. Gray Wolf whined joyfully +when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her +shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side. + +The "slush" snows followed fast after this. And the "slush" snows meant +spring--and the emptying of the wilderness of human life. Kazan and his +mates soon began to scent the presence and the movement of this life. +They were now within thirty miles of the post. For a hundred miles on +all sides of them the trappers were moving in with their late winter's +catch of furs. From east and west, south and north, all trails led to +the post. The pack was caught in the mesh of them. For a week not a day +passed that they did not cross a fresh trail, and sometimes two or +three. + +Gray Wolf was haunted by constant fear. In her blindness she knew that +they were surrounded by the menace of men. To Kazan what was coming to +pass had more and more ceased to fill him with fear and caution. Three +times that week he heard the shouts of men--and once he heard a white +man's laughter and the barking of dogs as their master tossed them their +daily feed of fish. In the air he caught the pungent scent of camp-fires +and one night, in the far distance, he heard a wild snatch of song, +followed by the yelping and barking of a dog-pack. + +Slowly and surely the lure of man drew him nearer to the post--a mile +to-night, two miles to-morrow, but always nearer. And Gray Wolf, +fighting her losing fight to the end, sensed in the danger-filled air +the nearness of that hour when he would respond to the final call and +she would be left alone. + +These were days of activity and excitement at the fur company's post, +the days of accounting, of profit and of pleasure;--the days when the +wilderness poured in its treasure of fur, to be sent a little later to +London and Paris and the capitals of Europe. And this year there was +more than the usual interest in the foregathering of the forest people. +The plague had wrought its terrible havoc, and not until the fur-hunters +had come to answer to the spring roll-call would it be known accurately +who had lived and who had died. + +The Chippewans and half-breeds from the south began to arrive first, +with their teams of mongrel curs, picked up along the borders of +civilization. Close after them came the hunters from the western barren +lands, bringing with them loads of white fox and caribou skins, and an +army of big-footed, long-legged Mackenzie hounds that pulled like horses +and wailed like whipped puppies when the huskies and Eskimo dogs set +upon them. Packs of fierce Labrador dogs, never vanquished except by +death, came from close to Hudson's Bay. Team after team of little yellow +and gray Eskimo dogs, as quick with their fangs as were their black and +swift-running masters with their hands and feet, met the much larger and +dark-colored Malemutes from the Athabasca. Enemies of all these packs of +fierce huskies trailed in from all sides, fighting, snapping and +snarling, with the lust of killing deep born in them from their wolf +progenitors. + +There was no cessation in the battle of the fangs. It began with the +first brute arrivals. It continued from dawn through the day and around +the camp-fires at night. There was never an end to the strife between +the dogs, and between the men and the dogs. The snow was trailed and +stained with blood and the scent of it added greater fierceness to the +wolf-breeds. + +Half a dozen battles were fought to the death each day and night. Those +that died were chiefly the south-bred curs--mixtures of mastiff, Great +Dane, and sheep-dog--and the fatally slow Mackenzie hounds. About the +post rose the smoke of a hundred camp-fires, and about these fires +gathered the women and the children of the hunters. When the snow was no +longer fit for sledging, Williams, the factor, noted that there were +many who had not come, and the accounts of these he later scratched out +of his ledgers knowing that they were victims of the plague. + +At last came the night of the Big Carnival, For weeks and months women +and children and men had been looking forward to this. In scores of +forest cabins, in smoke-blackened tepees, and even in the frozen homes +of the little Eskimos, anticipation of this wild night of pleasure had +given an added zest to life. It was the Big Circus--the good time given +twice each year by the company to its people. + +This year, to offset the memory of plague and death, the factor had put +forth unusual exertions. His hunters had killed four fat caribou. In the +clearing there were great piles of dry logs, and in the center of all +there rose eight ten-foot tree-butts crotched at the top; and from +crotch to crotch there rested a stout sapling stripped of bark, and on +each sapling was spitted the carcass of a caribou, to be roasted whole +by the heat of the fire beneath. The fires were lighted at dusk, and +Williams himself started the first of those wild songs of the +Northland--the song of the caribou, as the flames leaped up into the +dark night. + + "Oh, ze cariboo-oo-oo, ze cariboo-oo-oo, + He roas' on high, + Jes' under ze sky. + air-holes beeg white cariboo-oo-oo!" + +"Now!" he yelled. "Now--all together!" And carried away by his +enthusiasm, the forest people awakened from their silence of months, +and the song burst forth in a savage frenzy that reached to the skies. + + * * * * * + +Two miles to the south and west that first thunder of human voice +reached the ears of Kazan and Gray Wolf and the masterless huskies. And +with the voices of men they heard now the excited howlings of dogs. The +huskies faced the direction of the sounds, moving restlessly and +whining. For a few moments Kazan stood as though carven of rock. Then he +turned his head, and his first look was to Gray Wolf. She had slunk back +a dozen feet and lay crouched under the thick cover of a balsam shrub. +Her body, legs and neck were flattened in the snow. She made no sound, +but her lips were drawn back and her teeth shone white. + +Kazan trotted back to her, sniffed at her blind face and whined. Gray +Wolf still did not move. He returned to the dogs and his jaws opened and +closed with a snap. Still more clearly came the wild voice of the +carnival, and no longer to be held back by Kazan's leadership, the four +huskies dropped their heads and slunk like shadows in its direction. +Kazan hesitated, urging Gray Wolf. But not a muscle of Gray Wolf's body +moved. She would have followed him in face of fire but not in face of +man. Not a sound escaped her ears. She heard the quick fall of Kazan's +feet as he left her. In another moment she knew that he was gone. +Then--and not until then--did she lift her head, and from her soft +throat there broke a whimpering cry. + +It was her last call to Kazan. But stronger than that there was running +through Kazan's excited blood the call of man and of dog. The huskies +were far in advance of him now and for a few moments he raced madly to +overtake them. Then he slowed down until he was trotting, and a hundred +yards farther on he stopped. Less than a mile away he could see where +the flames of the great fires were reddening the sky. He gazed back to +see if Gray Wolf was following and then went on until he struck an open +and hard traveled trail. It was beaten with the footprints of men and +dogs, and over it two of the caribou had been dragged a day or two +before. + +At last he came to the thinned out strip of timber that surrounded the +clearing and the flare of the flames was in his eyes. The bedlam of +sound that came to him now was like fire in his brain. He heard the song +and the laughter of men, the shrill cries of women and children, the +barking and snarling and fighting of a hundred dogs. He wanted to rush +out and join them, to become again a part of what he had once been. Yard +by yard he sneaked through the thin timber until he reached the edge of +the clearing. There he stood in the shadow of a spruce and looked out +upon life as he had once lived it, trembling, wistful and yet hesitating +in that final moment. + +A hundred yards away was the savage circle of men and dogs and fire. His +nostrils were filled with the rich aroma of the roasting caribou, and as +he crouched down, still with that wolfish caution that Gray Wolf had +taught him, men with long poles brought the huge carcasses crashing down +upon the melting snow about the fires. In one great rush the horde of +wild revelers crowded in with bared knives, and a snarling mass of dogs +closed in behind them. In another moment he had forgotten Gray Wolf, had +forgotten all that man and the wild had taught him, and like a gray +streak was across the open. + +The dogs were surging back when he reached them, with half a dozen of +the factor's men lashing them in the faces with long caribou-gut whips. +The sting of a lash fell in a fierce cut over an Eskimo dog's shoulder, +and in snapping at the lash his fangs struck Kazan's rump. With +lightning swiftness Kazan returned the cut, and in an instant the jaws +of the dogs had met. In another instant they were down and Kazan had the +Eskimo dog by the throat. + +With shouts the men rushed in. Again and again their whips cut like +knives through the air. Their blows fell on Kazan, who was uppermost, +and as he felt the burning pain of the scourging whips there flooded +through him all at once the fierce memory of the days of old--the days +of the Club and the Lash. He snarled. Slowly he loosened his hold of the +Eskimo dog's throat. And then, out of the melee of dogs and men, there +sprang another man--_with a club_! It fell on Kazan's back and the force +of it sent him flat into the snow. It was raised again. Behind the club +there was a face--a brutal, fire-reddened face. It was such a face that +had driven Kazan into the wild, and as the club fell again he evaded the +full weight of its blow and his fangs gleamed like ivory knives. A third +time the club was raised, and this time Kazan met it in mid-air, and his +teeth ripped the length of the man's forearm. + +"Good God!" shrieked the man in pain, and Kazan caught the gleam of a +rifle barrel as he sped toward the forest. A shot followed. Something +like a red-hot coal ran the length of Kazan's hip, and deep in the +forest he stopped to lick at the burning furrow where the bullet had +gone just deep enough to take the skin and hair from his flesh. + + * * * * * + +Gray Wolf was still waiting under the balsam shrub when Kazan returned +to her. Joyously she sprang forth to meet him. Once more the man had +sent back the old Kazan to her. He muzzled her neck and face, and stood +for a few moments with his head resting across her back, listening to +the distant sound. + +Then, with ears laid flat, he set out straight into the north and west. +And now Gray Wolf ran shoulder to shoulder with him like the Gray Wolf +of the days before the dog-pack came; for that wonderful thing that lay +beyond the realm of reason told her that once more she was comrade and +mate, and that their trail that night was leading to their old home +under the windfall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HIS SON + + +It happened that Kazan was to remember three things above all others. He +could never quite forget his old days in the traces, though they were +growing more shadowy and indistinct in his memory as the summers and the +winters passed. Like a dream there came to him a memory of the time he +had gone down to Civilization. Like dreams were the visions that rose +before him now and then of the face of the First Woman, and of the faces +of masters who--to him--had lived ages ago. And never would he quite +forget the Fire, and his fights with man and beast, and his long chases +in the moonlight. But two things were always with him as if they had +been but yesterday, rising clear and unforgetable above all others, like +the two stars in the North that never lost their brilliance. One was +Woman. The other was the terrible fight of that night on the top of the +Sun Rock, when the lynx had blinded forever his wild mate, Gray Wolf. +Certain events remain indelibly fixed in the minds of men; and so, in a +not very different way, they remain in the minds of beasts. It takes +neither brain nor reason to measure the depths of sorrow or of +happiness. And Kazan in his unreasoning way knew that contentment and +peace, a full stomach, and caresses and kind words instead of blows had +come to him through Woman, and that comradeship in the wilderness--faith, +loyalty and devotion--were a part of Gray Wolf. The third unforgetable +thing was about to occur in the home they had found for themselves under +the swamp windfall during the days of cold and famine. + +They had left the swamp over a month before when it was smothered deep +in snow. On the day they returned to it the sun was shining warmly in +the first glorious days of spring warmth. Everywhere, big and small, +there were the rushing torrents of melting snows and the crackle of +crumbling ice, the dying cries of thawing rock and earth and tree, and +each night for many nights past the cold pale glow of the aurora +borealis had crept farther and farther toward the Pole in fading glory. +So early as this the poplar buds had begun to swell and the air was +filled with the sweet odor of balsam, spruce and cedar. Where there had +been famine and death and stillness six weeks before, Kazan and Gray +Wolf now stood at the edge of the swamp and breathed the earthy smells +of spring, and listened to the sounds of life. Over their heads a pair +of newly-mated moose-birds fluttered and scolded at them. A big jay sat +pluming himself in the sunshine. Farther in they heard the crack of a +stick broken under a heavy hoof. From the ridge behind them they caught +the raw scent of a mother bear, busy pulling down the tender poplar buds +for her six-weeks-old cubs, born while she was still deep in her winter +sleep. + +In the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of the air there breathed to +Gray Wolf the mystery of matehood and of motherhood. She whined softly +and rubbed her blind face against Kazan. For days, in her way, she tried +to tell him. More than ever she wanted to curl herself up in that warm +dry nest under the windfall. She had no desire to hunt. The crack of +the dry stick under a cloven hoof and the warm scent of the she-bear and +her cubs roused none of the old instincts in her. She wanted to curl +herself up in the old windfall--and wait. And she tried hard to make +Kazan understand her desire. + +Now that the snow was gone they found that a narrow creek lay between +them and the knoll on which the windfall was situated. Gray Wolf picked +up her ears at the tumult of the little torrent. Since the day of the +Fire, when Kazan and she had saved themselves on the sand-bar, she had +ceased to have the inherent wolf horror of water. She followed +fearlessly, even eagerly, behind Kazan as he sought a place where they +could ford the rushing little stream. On the other side Kazan could see +the big windfall. Gray Wolf could _smell_ it and she whined joyously, +with her blind face turned toward it. A hundred yards up the stream a +big cedar had fallen over it and Kazan began to cross. For a moment Gray +Wolf hesitated, and then followed. Side by side they trotted to the +windfall. With their heads and shoulders in the dark opening to their +nest they scented the air long and cautiously. Then they entered. Kazan +heard Gray Wolf as she flung herself down on the dry floor of the snug +cavern. She was panting, not from exhaustion, but because she was filled +with a sensation of contentment and happiness. In the darkness Kazan's +own jaws fell apart. He, too, was glad to get back to their old home. He +went to Gray Wolf and, panting still harder, she licked his face. It had +but one meaning. And Kazan understood. + +For a moment he lay down beside her, listening, and eyeing the opening +to their nest. Then he began to sniff about the log walls. He was close +to the opening when a sudden fresh scent came to him, and he grew rigid, +and his bristles stood up. The scent was followed by a whimpering, +babyish chatter. A porcupine entered the opening and proceeded to +advance in its foolish fashion, still chattering in that babyish way +that has made its life inviolable at the hands of man. Kazan had heard +that sound before, and like all other beasts had learned to ignore the +presence of the innocuous creature that made it. But just now he did not +stop to consider that what he saw was a porcupine and that at his first +snarl the good-humored little creature would waddle away as fast as it +could, still chattering baby talk to itself. His first reasoning was +that it was a live thing invading the home to which Gray Wolf and he had +just returned. A day later, or perhaps an hour later, he would have +driven it back with a growl. Now he leaped upon it. + +A wild chattering, intermingled with pig-like squeaks, and then a rising +staccato of howls followed the attack. Gray Wolf sprang to the opening. +The porcupine was rolled up in a thousand-spiked ball a dozen feet away, +and she could hear Kazan tearing about in the throes of the direst agony +that can befall a beast of the forests. His face and nose were a mat of +quills. For a few moments he rolled and dug in the wet mold and earth, +pawing madly at the things that pierced his flesh. Then he set off like +all dogs will who have come into contact with the friendly porcupine, +and raced again and again around the windfall, howling at every jump. +Gray Wolf took the matter coolly. It is possible that at times there are +moments of humor in the lives of animals. If so, she saw this one. She +scented the porcupine and she knew that Kazan was full of quills. As +there was nothing to do and nothing to fight she sat back on her +haunches and waited, pricking up her ears every time Kazan passed her in +his mad circuit around the windfall. At his fourth or fifth heat the +porcupine smoothed itself down a little, and continuing the interrupted +thread of its chatter waddled to a near-by poplar, climbed it and began +to gnaw the tender bark from a limb. + +At last Kazan halted before Gray Wolf. The first agony of a hundred +little needles piercing his flesh had deadened into a steady burning +pain. Gray Wolf went over to him and investigated him cautiously. With +her teeth she seized the ends of two or three of the quills and pulled +them out. Kazan was very much dog now. He gave a yelp, and whimpered as +Gray Wolf jerked out a second bunch of quills. Then he flattened himself +on his belly, stretched out his forelegs, closed his eyes, and without +any other sound except an occasional yelp of pain allowed Gray Wolf to +go on with the operation. Fortunately he had escaped getting any of the +quills in his mouth and tongue. But his nose and jaws were soon red +with blood. For an hour Gray Wolf kept faithfully at her task and by the +end of that time had succeeded in pulling out most of the quills. A few +still remained, too short and too deeply inbedded for her to extract +with her teeth. + +After this Kazan went down to the creek and buried his burning muzzle in +the cold water. This gave him some relief, but only for a short time. +The quills that remained worked their way deeper and deeper into his +flesh, like living things. Nose and lips began to swell. Blood and +saliva dripped from his mouth and his eyes grew red. Two hours after +Gray Wolf had retired to her nest under the windfall a quill had +completely pierced his lip and began to prick his tongue. In desperation +Kazan chewed viciously upon a piece of wood. This broke and crumpled the +quill, and destroyed its power to do further harm. Nature had told him +the one thing to do to save himself. Most of that day he spent in +gnawing at wood and crunching mouthfuls of earth and mold between his +jaws. In this way the barb-toothed points of the quills were dulled and +broken as they came through. At dusk he crawled under the windfall, and +Gray Wolf gently licked his muzzle with her soft cool tongue. Frequently +during the night Kazan went to the creek and found relief in its +ice-cold water. + +The next day he had what the forest people call "porcupine mumps." His +face was swollen until Gray Wolf would have laughed if she had been +human, and not blind. His chops bulged like cushions. His eyes were mere +slits. When he went out into the day he blinked, for he could see +scarcely better than his sightless mate. But the pain was mostly gone. +The night that followed he began to think of hunting, and the next +morning before it was yet dawn he brought a rabbit into their den. A few +hours later he would have brought a spruce partridge to Gray Wolf, but +just as he was about to spring upon his feathered prey the soft chatter +of a porcupine a few yards away brought him to a sudden stop. Few things +could make Kazan drop his tail. But that inane and incoherent prattle of +the little spiked beast sent him off at double-quick with his tail +between his legs. As man abhors and evades the creeping serpent, so +Kazan would hereafter evade this little creature of the forests that +never in animal history has been known to lose its good-humor or pick a +quarrel. + +Two weeks of lengthening days, of increasing warmth, of sunshine and +hunting, followed Kazan's adventure with the porcupine. The last of the +snow went rapidly. Out of the earth began to spring tips of green. The +_bakneesh_ vine glistened redder each day, the poplar buds began to +split, and in the sunniest spots, between the rocks of the ridges the +little white snow-flowers began to give a final proof that spring had +come. For the first of those two weeks Gray Wolf hunted frequently with +Kazan. They did not go far. The swamp was alive with small game and each +day or night they killed fresh meat. After the first week Gray Wolf +hunted less. Then came the soft and balmy night, glorious in the +radiance of a full spring moon when she refused to leave the windfall. +Kazan did not urge her. Instinct made him understand, and he did not go +far from the windfall that night in his hunt. When he returned he +brought a rabbit. + +Came then the night when from the darkest corner of the windfall Gray +Wolf warned him back with a low snarl. He stood in the opening, a rabbit +between his jaws. He took no offense at the snarl, but stood for a +moment, gazing into the gloom where Gray Wolf had hidden herself. Then +he dropped the rabbit and lay down squarely in the opening. After a +little he rose restlessly and went outside. But he did not leave the +windfall. It was day when he reentered. He sniffed, as he had sniffed +once before a long time ago, between the boulders at the top of the Sun +Rock. That which was in the air was no longer a mystery to him. He came +nearer and Gray Wolf did not snarl. She whined coaxingly as he touched +her. Then his muzzle found something else. It was soft and warm and made +a queer little sniffling sound. There was a responsive whine in his +throat, and in the darkness came the quick soft caress of Gray Wolf's +tongue. Kazan returned to the sunshine and stretched himself out before +the door of the windfall. His jaws dropped open, for he was filled with +a strange contentment. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE EDUCATION OF BA-REE + + +Robbed once of the joys of parenthood by the murder on the Sun Rock, +both Gray Wolf and Kazan were different from what they would have been +had the big gray lynx not come into their lives at that time. As if it +were but yesterday they remembered the moonlit night when the lynx +brought blindness to Gray Wolf and destroyed her young, and when Kazan +had avenged himself and his mate in his terrible fight to the death with +their enemy. And now, with that soft little handful of life snuggling +close up against her, Gray Wolf saw through her blind eyes the tragic +picture of that night more vividly than ever and she quivered at every +sound, ready to leap in the face of an unseen foe, to rend all flesh +that was not the flesh of Kazan. And ceaselessly, the slightest sound +bringing him to his feet, Kazan watched and guarded. He mistrusted the +moving shadows. The snapping of a twig drew back his upper lip. His +fangs gleamed menacingly when the soft air brought a strange scent. In +him, too, the memory of the Sun Rock, the death of their first young and +the blinding of Gray Wolf, had given birth to a new instinct. Not for an +instant was he off his guard. As surely as one expects the sun to rise +so did he expect that sooner or later their deadly enemy would creep on +them from out of the forest. In another hour such as this the lynx had +brought death. The lynx had brought blindness. And so day and night he +waited and watched for the lynx to come again. And woe unto any other +creature of flesh and blood that dared approach the windfall in these +first days of Gray Wolf's motherhood! + +But peace had spread its wings of sunshine and plenty over the swamp. +There were no intruders, unless the noisy whisky-jacks, the big-eyed +moose-birds, the chattering bush sparrows, and the wood-mice and ermine +could be called such. After the first day or two Kazan went more +frequently into the windfall, and though more than once he nosed +searchingly about Gray Wolf he could find only the one little pup. A +little farther west the Dog-Ribs would have called the pup Ba-ree for +two reasons--because he had no brothers or sisters, and because he was a +mixture of dog and wolf. He was a sleek and lively little fellow from +the beginning, for there was no division of mother strength and +attention. He developed with the true swiftness of the wolf-whelp, and +not with the slowness of the dog-pup. + +For three days he was satisfied to cuddle close against his mother, +feeding when he was hungry, sleeping a great deal and preened and +laundered almost constantly by Gray Wolf's affectionate tongue. From the +fourth day he grew busier and more inquisitive with every hour. He found +his mother's blind face, with tremendous effort he tumbled over her +paws, and once he lost himself completely and sniffled for help when he +rolled fifteen or eighteen inches away from her. It was not long after +this that he began to recognize Kazan as a part of his mother, and he +was scarcely more than a week old when he rolled himself up contentedly +between Kazan's forelegs and went to sleep. Kazan was puzzled. Then +with a deep sigh Gray Wolf laid her head across one of her mate's +forelegs, with her nose touching her runaway baby, and seemed vastly +contented. For half an hour Kazan did not move. + +When he was ten days old Ba-ree discovered there was great sport in +tussling with a bit of rabbit fur. It was a little later when he made +his second exciting discovery--light and sunshine. The sun had now +reached a point where in the middle of the afternoon a bright gleam of +it found its way through an overhead opening in the windfall. At first +Ba-ree would only stare at the golden streak. Then came the time when he +tried to play with it as he played with the rabbit fur. Each day +thereafter he went a little nearer the opening through which Kazan +passed from the windfall into the big world outside. Finally came the +time when he reached the opening and crouched there, blinking and +frightened at what he saw, and now Gray Wolf no longer tried to hold him +back but went out into the sunshine and tried to call him to her. It was +three days before his weak eyes had grown strong enough to permit his +following her, and very quickly after that Ba-ree learned to love the +sun, the warm air, and the sweetness of life, and to dread the darkness +of the closed-in den where he had been born. + +That this world was not altogether so nice as it at first appeared he +was very soon to learn. At the darkening signs of an approaching storm +one day Gray Wolf tried to lure him back under the windfall. It was her +first warning to Ba-ree and he did not understand. Where Gray Wolf +failed, nature came to teach a first lesson. Ba-ree was caught in a +sudden deluge of rain. It flattened him out in pure terror and he was +drenched and half drowned before Gray Wolf caught him between her jaws +and carried him into shelter. One by one after this the first strange +experiences of life came to him, and one by one his instincts received +their birth. Greatest for him of the days to follow was that on which +his inquisitive nose touched the raw flesh of a freshly killed and +bleeding rabbit. It was his first taste of blood. It was sweet. It +filled him with a strange excitement and thereafter he knew what it +meant when Kazan brought in something between his jaws. He soon began +to battle with sticks in place of the soft fur and his teeth grew as +hard and as sharp as little needles. + +The Great Mystery was bared to him at last when Kazan brought in between +his jaws, a big rabbit that was still alive but so badly crushed that it +could not run when dropped to the ground. Ba-ree had learned to know +what rabbits and partridges meant--the sweet warm blood that he loved +better even than he had ever loved his mother's milk. But they had come +to him dead. He had never seen one of the monsters alive. And now the +rabbit that Kazan dropped to the ground, kicking and struggling with a +broken back, sent Ba-ree back appalled. For a few moments he wonderingly +watched the dying throes of Kazan's prey. Both Kazan and Gray Wolf +seemed to understand that this was to be Ba-ree's first lesson in his +education as a slaying and flesh-eating creature, and they stood close +over the rabbit, making no effort to end its struggles. Half a dozen +times Gray Wolf sniffed at the rabbit and then turned her blind face +toward Ba-ree. After the third or fourth time Kazan stretched himself +out on his belly a few feet away and watched the proceedings +attentively. Each time that Gray Wolf lowered her head to muzzle the +rabbit Ba-ree's little ears shot up expectantly. When he saw that +nothing happened and that his mother was not hurt he came a little +nearer. Soon he could reach out, stiff-legged and cautious, and touch +the furry thing that was not yet dead. + +In a last spasmodic convulsion the big rabbit doubled up its rear legs +and gave a kick that sent Ba-ree sprawling back, yelping in terror. He +regained his feet and then, for the first time, anger and the desire to +retaliate took possession of him. The kick had completed his first +education. He came back with less caution, but stiffer-legged, and a +moment later had dug his tiny teeth in the rabbit's neck. He could feel +the throb of life in the soft body, the muscles of the dying rabbit +twitched convulsively under him, and he hung with his teeth until there +was no longer a tremor of life in his first kill. Gray Wolf was +delighted. She caressed Ba-ree with her tongue, and even Kazan +condescended to sniff approvingly of his son when he returned to the +rabbit. And never before had warm sweet blood tasted so good to Ba-ree +as it did to-day. + +Swiftly Ba-ree developed from a blood-tasting into a flesh-eating +animal. One by one the mysteries of life were unfolded to him--the +mating-night chortle of the gray owl, the crash of a falling tree, the +roll of thunder, the rush of running water, the scream of a fisher-cat, +the mooing of the cow moose, and the distant call of his tribe. But +chief of all these mysteries that were already becoming a part of his +instinct was the mystery of scent. One day he wandered fifty yards away +from the windfall and his little nose touched the warm scent of a +rabbit. Instantly, without reasoning or further process of education, he +knew that to get at the sweet flesh and blood which he loved he must +follow the scent. He wriggled slowly along the trail until he came to a +big log, over which the rabbit had vaulted in a long leap, and from this +log he turned back. Each day after this he went on adventures of his +own. At first he was like an explorer without a compass in a vast and +unknown world. Each day he encountered something new, always wonderful, +frequently terrifying. But his terrors grew less and less and his +confidence correspondingly greater. As he found that none of the things +he feared did him any harm he became more and more bold in his +investigations. And his appearance was changing, as well as his view of +things. His round roly-poly body was taking a different form. He became +lithe and quick. The yellow of his coat darkened, and there was a +whitish-gray streak along his back like that along Kazan's. He had his +mother's under-throat and her beautiful grace of head. Otherwise he was +a true son of Kazan. His limbs gave signs of future strength and +massiveness. He was broad across the chest. His eyes were wide apart, +with a little red in the lower corners. The forest people know what to +expect of husky pups who early develop that drop of red. It is a warning +that they are born of the wild and that their mothers, or fathers, are +of the savage hunt-packs. In Ba-ree that tinge of red was so pronounced +that it could mean but one thing. While he was almost half dog, the wild +had claimed him forever. + +Not until the day of his first real battle with a living creature did +Ba-ree come fully into his inheritance. He had gone farther than usual +from the windfall--fully a hundred yards. Here he found a new wonder. It +was the creek. He had heard it before and he had looked down on it from +afar--from a distance of fifty yards at least. But to-day he ventured +going to the edge of it, and there he stood for a long time, with the +water rippling and singing at his feet, gazing across it into the new +world that he saw. Then he moved cautiously along the stream. He had not +gone a dozen steps when there was a furious fluttering close to him, and +one of the fierce big-eyed jays of the Northland was directly in his +path. It could not fly. One of its wings dragged, probably broken in a +struggle with some one of the smaller preying beasts. But for an instant +it was a most startling and defiant bit of life to Ba-ree. + +Then the grayish crest along his back stiffened and he advanced. The +wounded jay remained motionless until Ba-ree was within three feet of +it. In short quick hops it began to retreat. Instantly Ba-ree's +indecision had flown to the four winds. With one sharp excited yelp he +flew at the defiant bird. For a few moments there was a thrilling race, +and Ba-ree's sharp little teeth buried themselves in the jay's feathers. +Swift as a flash the bird's beak began to strike. The jay was the king +of the smaller birds. In nesting season it killed the brush sparrows, +the mild-eyed moose-birds, and the tree-sappers. Again and again it +struck Ba-ree with its powerful beak, but the son of Kazan had now +reached the age of battle and the pain of the blows only made his own +teeth sink deeper. At last he found the flesh; and a puppyish snarl rose +in his throat. Fortunately he had gained a hold under the wing and after +the first dozen blows the jay's resistance grew weaker. Five minutes +later Ba-ree loosened his teeth and drew back a step to look at the +crumpled and motionless creature before him. The jay was dead. He had +won his first battle. And with victory came the wonderful dawning of +that greatest instinct of all, which told him that no longer was he a +drone in the marvelous mechanism of wilderness life--but a part of it +from this time forth. _For he had killed_. + +Half an hour later Gray Wolf came down over his trail. The jay was torn +into bits. Its feathers were scattered about and Ba-ree's little nose +was bloody. Ba-ree was lying in triumph beside his victim. Swiftly Gray +Wolf understood and caressed him joyously. When they returned to the +windfall Ba-ree carried in his jaws what was left of the jay. + +From that hour of his first kill hunting became the chief passion of +Ba-ree's life. When he was not sleeping in the sun, or under the +windfall at night, he was seeking life that he could destroy. He +slaughtered an entire family of wood-mice. Moose-birds were at first the +easiest for him to stalk, and he killed three. Then he encountered an +ermine and the fierce little white outlaw of the forests gave him his +first defeat. Defeat cooled his ardor for a few days, but taught him the +great lesson that there were other fanged and flesh-eating animals +besides himself and that nature had so schemed things that fang must not +prey upon fang--_for food_. Many things had been born in him. +Instinctively he shunned the porcupine without experiencing the torture +of its quills. He came face to face with a fisher-cat one day, a +fortnight after his fight with the ermine. Both were seeking food, and +as there was no food between them to fight over, each went his own way. + +Farther and farther Ba-ree ventured from the windfall, always following +the creek. Sometimes he was gone for hours. At first Gray Wolf was +restless when he was away, but she seldom went with him and after a time +her restlessness left her. Nature was working swiftly. It was Kazan who +was restless now. Moonlight nights had come and the wanderlust was +growing more and more insistent in his veins. And Gray Wolf, too, was +filled with the strange longing to roam at large out into the big world. + +Came then the afternoon when Ba-ree went on his longest hunt. Half a +mile away he killed his first rabbit. He remained beside it until dusk. +The moon rose, big and golden, flooding the forests and plains and +ridges with a light almost like that of day. It was a glorious night. +And Ba-ree found the moon, and left his kill. And the direction in +which he traveled _was away from the windfall_. + +All that night Gray Wolf watched and waited. And when at last the moon +was sinking into the south and west she settled back on her haunches, +turned her blind face to the sky and sent forth her first howl since the +day Ba-ree was born. Nature had come into her own. Far away Ba-ree +heard, but he did not answer. A new world was his. He had said good-by +to the windfall--and home. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE USURPERS + + +It was that glorious season between spring and summer, when the northern +nights were brilliant with moon and stars, that Kazan and Gray Wolf set +up the valley between the two ridges on a long hunt. It was the +beginning of that _wanderlust_ which always comes to the furred and +padded creatures of the wilderness immediately after the young-born of +early spring have left their mothers to find their own way in the big +world. They struck west from their winter home under the windfall in the +swamp. They hunted mostly at night and behind them they left a trail +marked by the partly eaten carcasses of rabbits and partridges. It was +the season of slaughter and not of hunger. Ten miles west of the swamp +they killed a fawn. This, too, they left after a single meal. Their +appetites became satiated with warm flesh and blood. They grew sleek and +fat and each day they basked longer in the warm sunshine. They had few +rivals. The lynxes were in the heavier timber to the south. There were +no wolves. Fisher-cat, marten and mink were numerous along the creek, +but these were neither swift-hunting nor long-fanged. One day they came +upon an old otter. He was a giant of his kind, turning a whitish gray +with the approach of summer. Kazan, grown fat and lazy, watched him +idly. Blind Gray Wolf sniffed at the fishy smell of him in the air. To +them he was no more than a floating stick, a creature out of their +element, along with the fish, and they continued on their way not +knowing that this uncanny creature with the coal-like flappers was soon +to become their ally in one of the strange and deadly feuds of the +wilderness, which are as sanguinary to animal life as the deadliest +feuds of men are to human life. + +The day following their meeting with the otter Gray Wolf and Kazan +continued three miles farther westward, still following the stream. Here +they encountered the interruption to their progress which turned them +over the northward ridge. The obstacle was a huge beaver dam. The dam +was two hundred yards in width and flooded a mile of swamp and timber +above it. Neither Gray Wolf nor Kazan was deeply interested in beavers. +They also moved out of their element, along with the fish and the otter +and swift-winged birds. + +So they turned into the north, not knowing that nature had already +schemed that they four--the dog, wolf, otter and beaver--should soon be +engaged in one of those merciless struggles of the wild which keep +animal life down to the survival of the fittest, and whose tragic +histories are kept secret under the stars and the moon and the winds +that tell no tales. + +For many years no man had come into this valley between the two ridges +to molest the beaver. If a Sarcee trapper had followed down the nameless +creek and had caught the patriarch and chief of the colony, he would at +once have judged him to be very old and his Indian tongue would have +given him a name. He would have called him Broken Tooth, because one of +the four long teeth with which he felled trees and built dams was broken +off. Six years before Broken Tooth had led a few beavers of his own age +down the stream, and they had built their first small dam and their +first lodge. The following April Broken Tooth's mate had four little +baby beavers, and each of the other mothers in the colony increased the +population by two or three or four. At the end of the fourth year this +first generation of children, had they followed the usual law of nature, +would have mated and left the colony to build a dam and lodges of their +own. They mated, but did not emigrate. + +The next year the second generation of children, now four years old, +mated but did not leave, so that in this early summer of the sixth year +the colony was very much like a great city that had been long besieged +by an enemy. It numbered fifteen lodges and over a hundred beavers, not +counting the fourth babies which had been born during March and April. +The dam had been lengthened until it was fully two hundred yards in +length. Water had been made to flood large areas of birch and poplar and +tangled swamps of tender willow and elder. Even with this food was +growing scarce and the lodges were overcrowded. This was because +beavers are almost human in their love for home. Broken Tooth's lodge +was fully nine feet long by seven wide inside, and there were now living +in it children and grandchildren to the number of twenty-seven. For this +reason Broken Tooth was preparing to break the precedent of his tribe. +When Kazan and Gray Wolf sniffed carelessly at the strong scents of the +beaver city, Broken Tooth was marshaling his family, and two of his sons +and their families, for the exodus. + +As yet Broken Tooth was the recognized leader in the colony. No other +beaver had grown to his size and strength. His thick body was fully +three feet long. He weighed at least sixty pounds. His tail was fourteen +inches in length and five in width, and on a still night he could strike +the water a blow that could be heard a quarter of a mile away. His +webbed hindfeet were twice as large as his mate's and he was easily the +swiftest swimmer in the colony. + +Following the afternoon when Gray Wolf and Kazan struck into the north +came the clear still night when Broken Tooth climbed to the top of the +dam, shook himself, and looked down to see that his army was behind +him. The starlit water of the big pond rippled and flashed with the +movement of many bodies. A few of the older beavers clambered up after +Broken Tooth and the old patriarch plunged down into the narrow stream +on the other side of the dam. Now the shining silken bodies of the +emigrants followed him in the starlight. In ones and twos and threes +they climbed over the dam and with them went a dozen children born three +months before. Easily and swiftly they began the journey down-stream, +the youngsters swimming furiously to keep up with their parents. In all +they numbered forty. Broken Tooth swam well in the lead, with his older +workers and battlers behind him. In the rear followed mothers and +children. + +All of that night the journey continued. The otter, their deadliest +enemy--deadlier even than man--hid himself in a thick clump of willows +as they passed. Nature, which sometimes sees beyond the vision of man, +had made him the enemy of these creatures that were passing his +hiding-place in the night. A fish-feeder, he was born to be a conserver +as well as a destroyer of the creatures on which he fed. Perhaps nature +told him that too many beaver dams stopped the run of spawning fish and +that where there were many beavers there were always few fish. Maybe he +reasoned as to why fish-hunting was poor and he went hungry. So, unable +to cope singly with whole tribes of his enemies, he worked to destroy +their dams. How this, in turn, destroyed the beavers will be seen in the +feud in which nature had already schemed that he should play a part with +Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +A dozen times during this night Broken Tooth halted to investigate the +food supplies along the banks. But in the two or three places where he +found plenty of the bark on which they lived it would have been +difficult to have constructed a dam. His wonderful engineering instincts +rose even above food instincts. And when each time he moved onward, no +beaver questioned his judgment by remaining behind. In the early dawn +they crossed the burn and came to the edge of the swamp domain of Kazan +and Gray Wolf. By right of discovery and possession that swamp belonged +to the dog and the wolf. In every part of it they had left their mark of +ownership. But Broken Tooth was a creature of the water and the scent of +his tribe was not keen. He led on, traveling more slowly when they +entered the timber. Just below the windfall home of Kazan and Gray Wolf +he halted, and clambering ashore balanced himself upright on his webbed +hindfeet and broad four-pound tail. Here he had found ideal conditions. +A dam could be constructed easily across the narrow stream, and the +water could be made to flood a big supply of poplar, birch, willow and +alder. Also the place was sheltered by heavy timber, so that the winters +would be warm. Broken Tooth quickly gave his followers to understand +that this was to be their new home. On both sides of the stream they +swarmed into the near-by timber. The babies began at once to nibble +hungrily at the tender bark of willow and alder. The older ones, every +one of them now a working engineer, investigated excitedly, breakfasting +by nibbling off a mouthful of bark now and then. + +That day the work of home-building began. Broken Tooth himself selected +a big birch that leaned over the stream, and began the work of cutting +through the ten-inch butt with his three long teeth. Though the old +patriarch had lost one tooth, the three that remained had not +deteriorated with age. The outer edge of them was formed of the hardest +enamel; the inner side was of soft ivory. They were like the finest +steel chisels, the enamel never wearing away and the softer ivory +replacing itself year by year as it was consumed. Sitting on his +hindlegs, with his forepaws resting against the tree and with his heavy +tail giving him a firm balance, Broken Tooth began gnawing a narrow ring +entirely around the tree. He worked tirelessly for several hours, and +when at last he stopped to rest another workman took up the task. +Meanwhile a dozen beavers were hard at work cutting timber. Long before +Broken Tooth's tree was ready to fall across the stream, a smaller +poplar crashed into the water. The cutting on the big birch was in the +shape of an hour-glass. In twenty hours it fell straight across the +creek. While the beaver prefers to do most of his work at night he is a +day-laborer as well, and Broken Tooth gave his tribe but little rest +during the days that followed. With almost human intelligence the little +engineers kept at their task. Smaller trees were felled, and these were +cut into four or five foot lengths. One by one these lengths were rolled +to the stream, the beavers pushing them with their heads and forepaws, +and by means of brush and small limbs they were fastened securely +against the birch. When the framework was completed the wonderful cement +construction was begun. In this the beavers were the masters of men. +Dynamite was the only force that could hereafter break up what they were +building now. Under their cup-like chins the beavers brought from the +banks a mixture of mud and fine twigs, carrying from half a pound to a +pound at a load and began filling up the framework with it. Their task +seemed tremendous, and yet Broken Tooth's engineers could carry a ton of +this mud and twig mixture during a day and night. In three days the +water was beginning to back, until it rose about the butts of a dozen or +more trees and was flooding a small area of brush. This made work +easier. From now on materials could be cut in the water and easily +floated. While a part of the beaver colony was taking advantage of the +water, others were felling trees end to end with the birch, laying the +working frame of a dam a hundred feet in width. + +They had nearly accomplished this work when one morning Kazan and Gray +Wolf returned to the swamp. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A FEUD IN THE WILDERNESS + + +A soft wind blowing from the south and east brought the scent of the +invaders to Gray Wolf's nose when they were still half a mile away. She +gave the warning to Kazan and he, too, found the strange scent in the +air. It grew stronger as they advanced. When two hundred yards from the +windfall they heard the sudden crash of a falling tree, and stopped. For +a full minute they stood tense and listening. Then the silence was +broken by a squeaking cry, followed by a splash. Gray Wolf's alert ears +fell back and she turned her blind face understandingly toward Kazan. +They trotted ahead slowly, approaching the windfall from behind. Not +until they had reached the top of the knoll on which it was situated did +Kazan begin to see the wonderful change that had taken place during +their absence. Astounded, they stood while he stared. There was no +longer a little creek below them. Where it had been was a pond that +reached almost to the foot of the knoll. It was fully a hundred feet in +width and the backwater had flooded the trees and bush for five or six +times that distance toward the burn. They had come up quietly and Broken +Tooth's dull-scented workers were unaware of their presence. Not fifty +feet away Broken Tooth himself was gnawing at the butt of a tree. An +equal distance to the right of him four or five of the baby beavers were +at play building a miniature dam of mud and tiny twigs. On the opposite +side of the pond was a steep bank six or seven feet high, and here a few +of the older children--two years old, but still not workmen--were having +great fun climbing the bank and using it as a toboggan-slide. It was +their splashing that Kazan and Gray Wolf had heard. In a dozen different +places the older beavers were at work. + +A few weeks before Kazan had looked upon a similar scene when he had +returned into the north from Broken Tooth's old home. It had not +interested him then. But a quick and thrilling change swept through him +now. The beavers had ceased to be mere water animals, uneatable and +with an odor that displeased him. They were invaders--and enemies. His +fangs bared silently. His crest stiffened like the hair of a brush, and +the muscles of his forelegs and shoulders stood out like whipcords. Not +a sound came from him as he rushed down upon Broken Tooth. The old +beaver was oblivious of danger until Kazan was within twenty feet of +him. Naturally slow of movement on land, he stood for an instant +stupefied. Then he swung down from the tree as Kazan leaped upon him. +Over and over they rolled to the edge of the bank, carried on by the +dog's momentum. In another moment the thick heavy body of the beaver had +slipped like oil from under Kazan and Broken Tooth was safe in his +element, two holes bitten clean through his fleshy tail. Baffled in his +effort to get a death-hold on Broken Tooth, Kazan swung like a flash to +the right. The young beavers had not moved. Astonished and frightened at +what they had seen, they stood as if stupefied. Not until they saw Kazan +tearing toward them did they awaken to action. Three of them reached the +water. The fourth and fifth--baby beavers not more than three months +old--were too late. With a single snap of his jaw Kazan broke the hack +of one. The other he pinned down by the throat and shook as a terrier +shakes a rat. When Gray Wolf trotted down to him both of the little +beavers were dead. She sniffed at their soft little bodies and whined. +Perhaps the baby creatures reminded her of runaway Ba-ree, her own baby, +for there was a note of longing in her whine as she nosed them. It was +the mother whine. + +But if Gray Wolf had visions of her own Kazan understood nothing of +them. He had killed two of the creatures that had dared to invade their +home. To the little beavers he had been as merciless as the gray lynx +that had murdered Gray Wolf's first children on the top of the Sun Rock. +Now that he had sunk his teeth into the flesh of his enemies his blood +was filled with a frenzied desire to kill. He raved along the edge of +the pond, snarling at the uneasy water under which Broken Tooth had +disappeared. All of the beavers had taken refuge in the pond, and its +surface was heaving with the passing of many bodies beneath. Kazan came +to the end of the dam. This was new. Instinctively he knew that it was +the work of Broken Tooth and his tribe and for a few moments he tore +fiercely at the matted sticks and limbs. Suddenly there was an upheaval +of water close to the dam, fifty feet out from the bank, and Broken +Tooth's big gray head appeared. For a tense half minute Broken Tooth and +Kazan measured each other at that distance. Then Broken Tooth drew his +wet shining body out of the water to the top of the dam, and squatted +flat, facing Kazan. The old patriarch was alone. Not another beaver had +shown himself. + +The surface of the pond had now become quiet. Vainly Kazan tried to +discover a footing that would allow him to reach the watchful invader. +But between the solid wall of the dam and the bank there was a tangled +framework through which the water rushed with some violence. Three times +Kazan fought to work his way through that tangle, and three times his +efforts ended in sudden plunges into the water. All this time Broken +Tooth did not move. When at last Kazan gave up the attack the old +engineer slipped over the edge of the dam and disappeared under the +water. He had learned that Kazan, like the lynx, could not fight water +and he spread the news among the members of his colony. + +Gray Wolf and Kazan returned to the windfall and lay down in the warm +sun. Half an hour later Broken Tooth drew himself out on the opposite +shore of the pond. He was followed by other beavers. Across the water +they resumed their work as if nothing had happened. The tree-cutters +returned to their trees. Half a dozen worked in the water, carrying +loads of cement and twigs. The middle of the pond was their dead-line. +Across this not one of them passed. A dozen times during the hour that +followed one of the beavers swam up to the dead-line, and rested there, +looking at the shining little bodies of the babies that Kazan had +killed. Perhaps it was the mother, and perhaps some finer instinct +unknown to Kazan told this to Gray Wolf. For Gray Wolf went down twice +to sniff at the dead bodies, and each time--without seeing--she went +when the mother beaver had come to the dead-line. + +The first fierce animus had worn itself from Kazan's blood, and he now +watched the beavers closely. He had learned that they were not fighters. +They were many to one and yet they ran from him like a lot of rabbits. +Broken Tooth had not even struck at him, and slowly it grew upon him +that these invading creatures that used both the water and land would +have to be hunted as he stalked the rabbit and the partridge. Early in +the afternoon he slipped off into the bush, followed by Gray Wolf. He +had often begun the stalking of a rabbit by moving _away_ from it and he +employed this wolf trick now with the beavers. Beyond the windfall he +turned and began trotting up the creek, with the wind. For a quarter of +a mile the creek was deeper than it had ever been. One of their old +fording places was completely submerged, and at last Kazan plunged in +and swam across, leaving Gray Wolf to wait for him on the windfall side +of the stream. + +Alone he made his way quickly in the direction of the dam, traveling two +hundred yards back from the creek. Twenty yards below the dam a dense +thicket of alder and willow grew close to the creek and Kazan took +advantage of this. He approached within a leap or two of the dam without +being seen and crouched close to the ground, ready to spring forth when +the opportunity came. Most of the beavers were now working in the water. +The four or five still on shore were close to the water and some +distance up-stream. After a wait of several minutes Kazan was almost on +the point of staking everything on a wild rush upon his enemies when a +movement on the dam attracted his attention. Half-way out two or three +beavers were at work strengthening the central structure with cement. +Swift as a flash Kazan darted from his cover to the shelter behind the +dam. Here the water was very shallow, the main portion of the stream +finding a passage close to the opposite shore. Nowhere did it reach to +his belly as he waded out. He was completely hidden from the beavers, +and the wind was in his favor. The noise of running water drowned what +little sound he made. Soon he heard the beaver workmen over him. The +branches of the fallen birch gave him a footing, and he clambered up. + +A moment later his head and shoulders appeared above the top of the +dam. Scarce an arm's length away Broken Tooth was forcing into place a +three-foot length of poplar as big around as a man's arm. He was so busy +that he did not hear or see Kazan. Another beaver gave the warning as he +plunged into the pond. Broken Tooth looked up, and his eyes met Kazan's +bared fangs. There was no time to turn. He threw himself back, but it +was a moment too late. Kazan was upon him. His long fangs sank deep into +Broken Tooth's neck. But the old beaver had thrown himself enough back +to make Kazan lose his footing. At the same moment his chisel-like teeth +got a firm hold of the loose skin at Kazan's throat. Thus clinched, with +Kazan's long teeth buried almost to the beaver's jugular, they plunged +down into the deep water of the pond. + +Broken Tooth weighed sixty pounds. The instant he struck the water he +was in his element, and holding tenaciously to the grip he had obtained +on Kazan's neck he sank like a chunk of iron. Kazan was pulled +completely under. The water rushed into his mouth, his ears, eyes and +nose. He was blinded, and his senses were a roaring tumult. But instead +of struggling to free himself he held his breath and buried his teeth +deeper. They touched the soft bottom and for a moment floundered in the +mud. Then Kazan loosened his hold. He was fighting for his own life +now--and not for Broken Tooth's. With all of the strength of his +powerful limbs he struggled to break loose--to rise to the surface, to +fresh air, to life. He clamped his jaws shut, knowing that to breathe +was to die. On land he could have freed himself from Broken Tooth's hold +without an effort. But under water the old beaver's grip was more deadly +than would have been the fangs of a lynx ashore. There was a sudden +swirl of water as a second beaver circled close about the struggling +pair. Had he closed in with Broken Tooth, Kazan's struggles would +quickly have ceased. + +But nature had not foreseen the day when Broken Tooth would be fighting +with fang. The old patriarch had no particular reason now for holding +Kazan down. He was not vengeful. He did not thirst for blood or death. +Finding that he was free, and that this strange enemy that had twice +leaped upon him could do him no harm, he loosed his hold. It was not a +moment too soon for Kazan. He was struggling weakly when he rose to the +surface of the water. Three-quarters drowned, he succeeded in raising +his forepaws over a slender branch that projected from the dam. This +gave him time to fill his lungs with air, and to cough forth the water +that had almost ended his existence. For ten minutes he clung to the +branch before he dared attempt the short swim ashore. When he reached +the bank he dragged himself up weakly. All the strength was gone from +his body. His limbs shook. His jaws hung loose. He was beaten--completely +beaten. And a creature without a fang had worsted him. He felt the +abasement of it. Drenched and slinking, he went to the windfall, lay +down in the sun, and waited for Gray Wolf. + +Days followed in which Kazan's desire to destroy his beaver enemies +became the consuming passion of his life. Each day the dam became more +formidable. Cement work in the water was carried on by the beavers +swiftly and safely. The water in the pond rose higher each twenty-four +hours, and the pond grew steadily wider. The water had now been turned +into the depression that encircled the windfall, and in another week or +two, if the beavers continued their work, Kazan's and Gray Wolf's home +would be nothing more than a small island in the center of a wide area +of submerged swamp. + +Kazan hunted only for food now, and not for pleasure. Ceaselessly he +watched his opportunity to leap upon incautious members of Broken +Tooth's tribe. The third day after the struggle under the water he +killed a big beaver that approached too close to the willow thicket. The +fifth day two of the young beavers wandered into the flooded depression +back of the windfall and Kazan caught them in shallow water and tore +them into pieces. After these successful assaults the beavers began to +work mostly at night. This was to Kazan's advantage, for he was a +night-hunter. On each of two consecutive nights he killed a beaver. +Counting the young, he had killed seven when the otter came. + +Never had Broken Tooth been placed between two deadlier or more +ferocious enemies than the two that now assailed him. On shore Kazan +was his master because of his swiftness, keener scent, and fighting +trickery. In the water the otter was a still greater menace. He was +swifter than the fish that he caught for food. His teeth were like steel +needles. He was so sleek and slippery that it would have been impossible +for them to hold him with their chisel-like teeth could they have caught +him. The otter, like the beaver, possessed no hunger for blood. Yet in +all the Northland he was the greatest destroyer of their kind--an even +greater destroyer than man. He came and passed like a plague, and it was +in the coldest days of winter that greatest destruction came with him. +In those days he did not assault the beavers in their snug houses. He +did what man could do only with dynamite--made an embrasure through +their dam. Swiftly the water would fall, the surface ice would crash +down, and the beaver houses would be left out of water. Then followed +death for the beavers--starvation and cold. With the protecting water +gone from about their houses, the drained pond a chaotic mass of broken +ice, and the temperature forty or fifty degrees below zero, they would +die within a few hours. For the beaver, with his thick coat of fur, can +stand less cold than man. Through all the long winter the water about +his home is as necessary to him as fire to a child. + +But it was summer now and Broken Tooth and his colony had no very great +fear of the otter. It would cost them some labor to repair the damage he +did, but there was plenty of food and it was warm. For two days the +otter frisked about the dam and the deep water of the pond. Kazan took +him for a beaver, and tried vainly to stalk him. The otter regarded +Kazan suspiciously and kept well out of his way. Neither knew that the +other was an ally. Meanwhile the beavers continued their work with +greater caution. The water in the pond had now risen to a point where +the engineers had begun the construction of three lodges. On the third +day the destructive instinct of the otter began its work. He began to +examine the dam, close down to the foundation. It was not long before he +found a weak spot to begin work on, and with his sharp teeth and small +bullet-like head he commenced his drilling operations. Inch by inch he +worked his way through the dam, burrowing and gnawing over and under the +timbers, and always through the cement. The round hole he made was fully +seven inches in diameter. In six hours he had cut it through the +five-foot base of the dam. + +A torrent of water began to rush from the pond as if forced out by a +hydraulic pump. Kazan and Gray Wolf were hiding in the willows on the +south side of the pond when this happened. They heard the roar of the +stream tearing through the embrasure and Kazan saw the otter crawl up to +the top of the dam and shake himself like a huge water-rat. Within +thirty minutes the water in the pond had fallen perceptibly, and the +force of the water pouring through the hole was constantly increasing +the outlet. In another half hour the foundations of the three lodges, +which had been laid in about ten inches of water, stood on mud. Not +until Broken Tooth discovered that the water was receding from the +houses did he take alarm. He was thrown into a panic, and very soon +every beaver in the colony tearing excitedly about the pond. They swam +swiftly from shore to shore, paying no attention to the dead-line now. +Broken Tooth and the older workmen made for the dam, and with a snarling +cry the otter plunged down among them and out like a flash for the creek +above the pond. Swiftly the water continued to fall and as it fell the +excitement of the beavers increased. They forgot Kazan and Gray Wolf. + +Several of the younger members of the colony drew themselves ashore on +the windfall side of the pond, and whining softly Kazan was about to +slip back through the willows when one of the older beavers waddled up +through the deepening mud close on his ambush. In two leaps Kazan was +upon him, with Gray Wolf a leap behind him. The short fierce struggle in +the mud was seen by the other beavers and they crossed swiftly to the +opposite side of the pond. The water had receded to a half of its +greatest width before Broken Tooth and his workmen discovered the breach +in the wall of the dam. The work of repair was begun at once. For this +work sticks and brush of considerable size were necessary, and to reach +this material the beavers were compelled to drag their heavy bodies +through the ten or fifteen yards of soft mud left by the falling water. +Peril of fang no longer kept them back. Instinct told them that they +were fighting for their existence--that if the embrasure were not filled +up and the water kept in the pond they would very soon be completely +exposed to their enemies. It was a day of slaughter for Gray Wolf and +Kazan. They killed two more beavers in the mud close to the willows. +Then they crossed the creek below the dam and cut off three beavers in +the depression behind the windfall. There was no escape for these three. +They were torn into pieces. Farther up the creek Kazan caught a young +beaver and killed it. + +Late in the afternoon the slaughter ended. Broken Tooth and his +courageous engineers had at last repaired the breach, and the water in +the pond began to rise. + +Half a mile up the creek the big otter was squatted on a log basking in +the last glow of the setting sun. To-morrow he would go and do over +again his work of destruction. That was his method. For him it was play. + +But that strange and unseen arbiter of the forests called O-ee-ki, "the +Spirit," by those who speak the wild tongue, looked down at last with +mercy upon Broken Tooth and his death-stricken tribe. For in that last +glow of sunset Kazan and Gray Wolf slipped stealthily up the creek--to +find the otter basking half asleep on the log. + +The day's work, a full stomach, and the pool of warm sunlight in which +he lay had all combined to make the otter sleepy. He was as motionless +as the log on which he had stretched himself. He was big and gray and +old. For ten years he had lived to prove his cunning superior to that of +man. Vainly traps had been set for him. Wily trappers had built narrow +sluice-ways of rock and tree in small streams for him, but the old otter +had foiled their cunning and escaped the steel jaws waiting at the lower +end of each sluice. The trail he left in soft mud told of his size. A +few trappers had seen him. His soft pelt would long ago have found its +way to London, Paris or Berlin had it not been for his cunning. He was +fit for a princess, a duke or an emperor. For ten years he had lived +and escaped the demands of the rich. + +But this was summer. No trapper would have killed him now, for his pelt +was worthless. Nature and instinct both told him this. At this season he +did not dread man, for there was no man to dread. So he lay asleep on +the log, oblivious to everything but the comfort of sleep and the warmth +of the sun. + +Soft-footed, searching still for signs of the furry enemies who had +invaded their domain, Kazan slipped along the creek. Gray Wolf ran close +at his shoulder. They made no sound, and the wind was in their +favor--bringing scents toward them. It brought the otter smell. To Kazan +and Gray Wolf it was the scent of a water animal, rank and fishy, and +they took it for the beaver. They advanced still more cautiously. Then +Kazan saw the big otter asleep on the log and he gave the warning to +Gray Wolf. She stopped, standing with her head thrown up, while Kazan +made his stealthy advance. The otter stirred uneasily. It was growing +dusk. The golden pool of sunlight had faded away. Back in the darkening +timber an owl greeted night with its first-low call. The otter breathed +deeply. His whiskered muzzle twitched. He was awakening--stirring--when +Kazan leaped upon him. Face to face, in fair fight, the old otter could +have given a good account of himself. But there was no chance now. The +wild itself had for the first time in his life become his deadliest +enemy. It was not man now--but O-ee-ki, "the Spirit," that had laid its +hand upon him. And from the Spirit there was no escape. Kazan's fangs +sank into his soft jugular. Perhaps he died without knowing what it was +that had leaped upon him. For he died--quickly, and Kazan and Gray Wolf +went on their way, hunting still for enemies to slaughter, and not +knowing that in the otter they had killed the one ally who would have +driven the beavers from their swamp home. + +The days that followed grew more and more hopeless for Kazan and Gray +Wolf. With the otter gone Broken Tooth and his tribe held the winning +hand. Each day the water backed a little farther into the depression +surrounding the windfall. By the middle of July only a narrow strip of +land connected the windfall hummock with the dry land of the swamp. In +deep water the beavers now worked unmolested. Inch by inch the water +rose, until there came the day when it began to overflow the connecting +strip. For the last time Kazan and Gray Wolf passed from their windfall +home and traveled up the stream between the two ridges. The creek held a +new meaning for them now and as they traveled they sniffed its odors and +listened to its sounds with an interest they had never known before. It +was an interest mingled a little with fear, for something in the manner +in which the beavers had beaten them reminded Kazan and Gray Wolf of +_man_. And that night, when in the radiance of the big white moon they +came within scent of the beaver colony that Broken Tooth had left, they +turned quickly northward into the plains. Thus had brave old Broken +Tooth taught them to respect the flesh and blood and handiwork of his +tribe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A SHOT ON THE SAND-BAR + + +July and August of 1911 were months of great fires in the Northland. The +swamp home of Kazan and Gray Wolf, and the green valley between the two +ridges, had escaped the seas of devastating flame; but now, as they set +forth on their wandering adventures again, it was not long before their +padded feet came in contact with the seared and blackened desolation +that had followed so closely after the plague and starvation of the +preceding winter. In his humiliation and defeat, after being driven from +his swamp home by the beavers, Kazan led his blind mate first into the +south. Twenty miles beyond the ridge they struck the fire-killed +forests. Winds from Hudson's Bay had driven the flames in an unbroken +sea into the west, and they had left not a vestige of life or a patch of +green. Blind Gray Wolf could not see the blackened world, but she +_sensed_ it. It recalled to her memory of that other fire, after the +battle on the Sun Rock; and all of her wonderful instincts, sharpened +and developed by her blindness, told her that to the north--and not +south--lay the hunting-grounds they were seeking. The strain of dog that +was in Kazan still pulled him south. It was not because he sought man, +for to man he had now become as deadly an enemy as Gray Wolf herself. It +was simply dog instinct to travel southward; in the face of fire it was +wolf instinct to travel northward. At the end of the third day Gray Wolf +won. They recrossed the little valley between the two ridges, and swung +north and west into the Athabasca country, striking a course that would +ultimately bring them to the headwaters of the McFarlane River. + +Late in the preceding autumn a prospector had come up to Fort Smith, on +the Slave River, with a pickle bottle filled with gold dust and nuggets. +He had made the find on the McFarlane. The first mails had taken the +news to the outside world, and by midwinter the earliest members of a +treasure-hunting horde were rushing into the country by snow-shoe and +dog-sledge. Other finds came thick and fast. The McFarlane was rich in +free gold, and miners by the score staked out their claims along it and +began work. Latecomers swung to new fields farther north and east, and +to Fort Smith came rumors of "finds" richer than those of the Yukon. A +score of men at first--then a hundred, five hundred, a thousand--rushed +into the new country. Most of these were from the prairie countries to +the south, and from the placer beds of the Saskatchewan and the Frazer. +From the far North, traveling by way of the Mackenzie and the Liard, +came a smaller number of seasoned prospectors and adventurers from the +Yukon--men who knew what it meant to starve and freeze and die by +inches. + +One of these late comers was Sandy McTrigger. There were several reasons +why Sandy had left the Yukon. He was "in bad" with the police who +patrolled the country west of Dawson, and he was "broke." In spite of +these facts he was one of the best prospectors that had ever followed +the shores of the Klondike. He had made discoveries running up to a +million or two, and had promptly lost them through gambling and drink. +He had no conscience, and little fear. Brutality was the chief thing +written in his face. His undershot jaw, his wide eyes, low forehead and +grizzly mop of red hair proclaimed him at once as a man not to be +trusted beyond one's own vision or the reach of a bullet. It was +suspected that he had killed a couple of men, and robbed others, but as +yet the police had failed to get anything "on" him. But along with this +bad side of him, Sandy McTrigger possessed a coolness and a courage +which even his worst enemies could not but admire, and also certain +mental depths which his unpleasant features did not proclaim. + +Inside of six months Red Gold City had sprung up on the McFarlane, a +hundred and fifty miles from Fort Smith, and Fort Smith was five hundred +miles from civilization. When Sandy came he looked over the crude +collection of shacks, gambling houses and saloons in the new town, and +made up his mind that the time was not ripe for any of his "inside" +schemes just yet. He gambled a little, and won sufficient to buy himself +grub and half an outfit. A feature of this outfit was an old +muzzle-loading rifle. Sandy, who always carried the latest Savage on +the market, laughed at it. But it was the best his finances would allow +of. He started south--up the McFarlane. Beyond a certain point on the +river prospectors had found no gold. Sandy pushed confidently _beyond_ +this point. Not until he was in new country did he begin his search. +Slowly he worked his way up a small tributary whose headwaters were +fifty or sixty miles to the south and east. Here and there he found +fairly good placer gold. He might have panned six or eight dollars' +worth a day. With this much he was disgusted. Week after week he +continued to work his way up-stream, and the farther he went the poorer +his pans became. At last only occasionally did he find colors. After +such disgusting weeks as these Sandy was dangerous--when in the company +of others. Alone he was harmless. + +One afternoon he ran his canoe ashore on a white strip of sand. This was +at a bend, where the stream had widened, and gave promise of at least a +few colors. He had bent down close to the edge of the water when +something caught his attention on the wet sand. What he saw were the +footprints of animals. Two had come down to drink. They had stood side +by side. And the footprints were fresh--made not more than an hour or +two before. A gleam of interest shot into Sandy's eyes. He looked behind +him, and up and down the stream. + +"Wolves," he grunted. "Wish I could 'a' shot at 'em with that old +minute-gun back there. Gawd--listen to that! And in broad daylight, +too!" + +He jumped to his feet, staring off into the bush. + +A quarter of a mile away Gray Wolf had caught the dreaded scent of man +in the wind, and was giving voice to her warning. It was a long wailing +howl, and not until its last echoes had died away did Sandy McTrigger +move. Then he returned to the canoe, took out his old gun, put a fresh +cap on the nipple and disappeared quickly over the edge of the bank. + +For a week Kazan and Gray Wolf had been wandering about the headwaters +of the McFarlane and this was the first time since the preceding winter +that Gray Wolf had caught the scent of man in the air. When the wind +brought the danger-signal to her she was alone. Two or three minutes +before the scent came to her Kazan had left her side in swift pursuit of +a snow-shoe rabbit, and she lay flat on her belly under a bush, waiting +for him. In these moments when she was alone Gray Wolf was constantly +sniffing the air. Blindness had developed her scent and hearing until +they were next to infallible. First she had heard the rattle of Sandy +McTrigger's paddle against the side of his canoe a quarter of a mile +away. Scent had followed swiftly. Five minutes after her warning howl +Kazan stood at her side, his head flung up, his jaws open and panting. +Sandy had hunted Arctic foxes, and he was using the Eskimo tactics now, +swinging in a half-circle until he should come up in the face of the +wind. Kazan caught a single whiff of the man-tainted air and his spine +grew stiff. But blind Gray Wolf was keener than the little red-eyed fox +of the North. Her pointed nose slowly followed Sandy's progress. She +heard a dry stick crack under his feet three hundred yards away. She +caught the metallic click of his gun-barrel as it struck a birch +sapling. The moment she lost Sandy in the wind she whined and rubbed +herself against Kazan and trotted a few steps to the southwest. + +At times such as this Kazan seldom refused to take guidance from her. +They trotted away side by side and by the time Sandy was creeping up +snake-like with the wind in his face, Kazan was peering from the fringe +of river brush down upon the canoe on the white strip of sand. When +Sandy returned, after an hour of futile stalking, two fresh tracks led +straight down to the canoe. He looked at them in amazement and then a +sinister grin wrinkled his ugly face. He chuckled as he went to his kit +and dug out a small rubber bag. From this he drew a tightly corked +bottle, filled with gelatine capsules. In each little capsule were five +grains of strychnine. There were dark hints that once upon a time Sandy +McTrigger had tried one of these capsules by dropping it in a cup of +coffee and giving it to a man, but the police had never proved it. He +was expert in the use of poison. Probably he had killed a thousand foxes +in his time, and he chuckled again as he counted out a dozen of the +capsules and thought how easy it would be to get this inquisitive pair +of wolves. Two or three days before he had killed a caribou, and each of +the capsules he now rolled up in a little ball of deer fat, doing the +work with short sticks in place of his fingers, so that there would be +no man-smell clinging to the death-baits. Before sundown Sandy set out +at right-angles over the plain, planting the baits. Most of them he hung +to low bushes. Others he dropped in worn rabbit and caribou trails. Then +he returned to the creek and cooked his supper. + +Then next morning he was up early, and off to the poison baits. The +first bait was untouched. The second was as he had planted it. The third +was gone. A thrill shot through Sandy as he looked about him. Somewhere +within a radius of two or three hundred yards he would find his game. +Then his glance fell to the ground under the bush where he had hung the +poison capsule and an oath broke from his lips. The bait had not been +eaten. The caribou fat lay scattered under the bush and still imbedded +in the largest portion of it was the little white capsule--unbroken. It +was Sandy's first experience with a wild creature whose instincts were +sharpened by blindness, and he was puzzled. He had never known this to +happen before. If a fox or a wolf could be lured to the point of +touching a bait, it followed that the bait was eaten. Sandy went on to +the fourth and the fifth baits. They were untouched. The sixth was torn +to pieces, like the third. In this instance the capsule was broken and +the white powder scattered. Two more poison baits Sandy found pulled +down in this manner. He knew that Kazan and Gray Wolf had done the work, +for he found the marks of their feet in a dozen different places. The +accumulated bad humor of weeks of futile labor found vent in his +disappointment and anger. At last he had found something tangible to +curse. The failure of his poison baits he accepted as a sort of climax +to his general bad luck. Everything was against him, he believed, and he +made up his mind to return to Red Gold City. Early in the afternoon he +launched his canoe and drifted down-stream with the current. He was +content to let the current do all of the work to-day, and he used his +paddle just enough to keep his slender craft head on. He leaned back +comfortably and smoked his pipe, with the old rifle between his knees. +The wind was in his face and he kept a sharp watch for game. + +It was late in the afternoon when Kazan and Gray Wolf came out on a +sand-bar five or six miles down-stream. Kazan was lapping up the cool +water when Sandy drifted quietly around a bend a hundred yards above +them. If the wind had been right, or if Sandy had been using his paddle, +Gray Wolf would have detected danger. It was the metallic click-click of +the old-fashioned lock of Sandy's rifle that awakened her to a sense of +peril. Instantly she was thrilled by the nearness of it. Kazan heard the +sound and stopped drinking to face it. In that moment Sandy pressed the +trigger. A belch of smoke, a roar of gunpowder, and Kazan felt a red-hot +stream of fire pass with the swiftness of a lightning-flash through his +brain. He stumbled back, his legs gave way under him, and he crumpled +down in a limp heap. Gray Wolf darted like a streak off into the bush. +Blind, she had not seen Kazan wilt down upon the white sand. Not until +she was a quarter of a mile away from the terrifying thunder of the +white man's rifle did she stop and wait for him. + +Sandy McTrigger grounded his canoe on the sand-bar with an exultant +yell. + +"Got you, you old devil, didn't I?" he cried. "I'd 'a' got the other, +too, if I'd 'a' had something besides this damned old relic!" + +He turned Kazan's head over with the butt of his gun, and the leer of +satisfaction in his face gave place to a sudden look of amazement. For +the first time he saw the collar about Kazan's neck. + +"My Gawd, it ain't a wolf," he gasped. "It's a dog, Sandy McTrigger--_a +dog!"_ + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +SANDY'S METHOD + + +McTrigger dropped on his knees in the sand. The look of exultation was +gone from his face. He twisted the collar about the dog's limp neck +until he came to the worn plate, on which he could make out the faintly +engraved letters _K-a-z-a-n_. He spelled the letters out one by one, and +the look in his face was of one who still disbelieved what he had seen +and heard. + +"A dog!" he exclaimed again. "A dog, Sandy McTrigger an' a--a beauty!" + +He rose to his feet and looked down on his victim. A pool of blood lay +in the white sand at the end of Kazan's nose. After a moment Sandy bent +over to see where his bullet had struck. His inspection filled him with +a new and greater interest. The heavy ball from the muzzle-loader had +struck Kazan fairly on top of the head. It was a glancing blow that had +not even broken the skull, and like a flash Sandy understood the +quivering and twitching of Kazan's shoulders and legs. He had thought +that they were the last muscular throes of death. But Kazan was not +dying. He was only stunned, and would be on his feet again in a few +minutes. Sandy was a connoisseur of dogs--of dogs that had worn sledge +traces. He had lived among them two-thirds of his life. He could tell +their age, their value, and a part of their history at a glance. In the +snow he could tell the trail of a Mackenzie hound from that of a +Malemute, and the track of an Eskimo dog from that of a Yukon husky. He +looked at Kazan's feet. They were wolf feet, and he chuckled. Kazan was +part wild. He was big and powerful, and Sandy thought of the coming +winter, and of the high prices that dogs would bring at Red Gold City. +He went to the canoe and returned with a roll of stout moose-hide +babiche. Then he sat down cross-legged in front of Kazan and began +making a muzzle. He did this by plaiting babiche thongs in the same +manner that one does in making the web of a snow-shoe. In ten minutes he +had the muzzle over Kazan's nose and fastened securely about his neck. +To the dog's collar he then fastened a ten-foot rope of babiche. After +that he sat back and waited for Kazan to come to life. + +When Kazan first lifted his head he could not see. There was a red film +before his eyes. But this passed away swiftly and he saw the man. His +first instinct was to rise to his feet. Three times he fell back before +he could stand up. Sandy was squatted six feet from him, holding the end +of the babiche, and grinning. Kazan's fangs gleamed back. He growled, +and the crest along his spine rose menacingly. Sandy jumped to his feet. + +"Guess I know what you're figgering on," he said. "I've had _your_ kind +before. The dam' wolves have turned you bad, an' you'll need a whole lot +of club before you're right again. Now, look here." + +Sandy had taken the precaution of bringing a thick club along with the +babiche. He picked it up from where he had dropped it in the sand. +Kazan's strength had fairly returned to him now. He was no longer dizzy. +The mist had cleared away from his eyes. Before him he saw once more his +old enemy, man--man and the club. All of the wild ferocity of his +nature was roused in an instant. Without reasoning he knew that Gray +Wolf was gone, and that this man was accountable for her going. He knew +that this man had also brought him his own hurt, and what he ascribed to +the man he also attributed to the club. In his newer undertaking of +things, born of freedom and Gray Wolf, Man and Club were one and +inseparable. With a snarl he leaped at Sandy. The man was not expecting +a direct assault, and before he could raise his club or spring aside +Kazan had landed full on his chest. The muzzle about Kazan's jaws saved +him. Fangs that would have torn his throat open snapped harmlessly. +Under the weight of the dog's body he fell back, as if struck down by a +catapult. + +As quick as a cat he was on his feet again, with the end of the babiche +twisted several times about his hand. Kazan leaped again, and this time +he was met by a furious swing of the club. It smashed against his +shoulder, and sent him down in the sand. Before he could recover Sandy +was upon him, with all the fury of a man gone mad. He shortened the +babiche by twisting it again and again about his hand, and the club rose +and fell with the skill and strength of one long accustomed to its use. +The first blows served only to add to Kazan's hatred of man, and the +ferocity and fearlessness of his attacks. Again and again he leaped in, +and each time the club fell upon him with a force that threatened to +break his bones. There was a tense hard look about Sandy's cruel mouth. +He had never known a dog like this before, and he was a bit nervous, +even with Kazan muzzled. Three times Kazan's fangs would have sunk deep +in his flesh had it not been for the babiche. And if the thongs about +his jaws should slip, or break--. + +Sandy followed up the thought with a smashing blow that landed on +Kazan's head, and once more the old battler fell limp upon the sand. +McTrigger's breath was coming in quick gasps. He was almost winded. Not +until the club slipped from his hand did he realize how desperate the +fight had been. Before Kazan recovered from the blow that had stunned +him Sandy examined the muzzle and strengthened it by adding another +babiche thong. Then he dragged Kazan to a log that high water had +thrown up on the shore a few yards away and made the end of the babiche +rope fast to a dead snag. After that he pulled his canoe higher up on +the sand, and began to prepare camp for the night. + +For some minutes after Kazan's stunned senses had become normal he lay +motionless, watching Sandy McTrigger. Every bone in his body gave him +pain. His jaws were sore and bleeding. His upper lip was smashed where +the club had fallen. One eye was almost closed. Several times Sandy came +near, much pleased at what he regarded as the good results of the +beating. Each time he brought the club. The third time he prodded Kazan +with it, and the dog snarled and snapped savagely at the end of it. That +was what Sandy wanted--it was an old trick of the dog-slaver. Instantly +he was using the club again, until with a whining cry Kazan slunk under +the protection of the snag to which he was fastened. He could scarcely +drag himself. His right forepaw was smashed. His hindquarters sank under +him. For a time after this second beating he could not have escaped had +he been free. + +Sandy was in unusually good humor. + +"I'll take the devil out of you all right," he told Kazan for the +twentieth time. "There's nothin' like beatin's to make dogs an' wimmin +live up to the mark. A month from now you'll be worth two hundred +dollars or I'll skin you alive!" + +Three or four times before dusk Sandy worked to rouse Kazan's animosity. +But there was no longer any desire left in Kazan to fight. His two +terrific beatings, and the crushing blow of the bullet against his +skull, had made him sick. He lay with his head between his forepaws, his +eyes closed, and did not see McTrigger. He paid no attention to the meat +that was thrown under his nose. He did not know when the last of the sun +sank behind the western forests, or when the darkness came. But at last +something roused him from his stupor. To his dazed and sickened brain it +came like a call from out of the far past, and he raised his head and +listened. Out on the sand McTrigger had built a fire, and the man stood +in the red glow of it now, facing the dark shadows beyond the shoreline. +He, too, was listening. What had roused Kazan came again now--the lost +mourning cry of Gray Wolf far out on the plain. + +With a whine Kazan was on his feet, tugging at the babiche. Sandy +snatched up his club, and leaped toward him. + +"Down, you brute!" he commanded. + +In the firelight the club rose and fell with ferocious quickness. When +McTrigger returned to the fire he was breathing hard again. He tossed +his club beside the blankets he had spread out for a bed. It was a +different looking club now. It was covered with blood and hair. + +"Guess that'll take the spirit out of him," he chuckled. "It'll do +that--or kill 'im!" + +Several times that night Kazan heard Gray Wolf's call. He whined softly +in response, fearing the club. He watched the fire until the last embers +of it died out, and then cautiously dragged himself from under the snag. +Two or three times he tried to stand on his feet, but fell back each +time. His legs were not broken, but the pain of standing on them was +excruciating. He was hot and feverish. All that night he had craved a +drink of water. When Sandy crawled out from between his blankets in the +early dawn he gave him both meat and water. Kazan drank the water, but +would not touch the meat. Sandy regarded the change in him with +satisfaction. By the time the sun was up he had finished his breakfast +and was ready to leave. He approached Kazan fearlessly now, without the +club. Untying the babiche he dragged the dog to the canoe. Kazan slunk +in the sand while his captor fastened the end of the hide rope to the +stern of the canoe. Sandy grinned. What was about to happen would be fun +for him. In the Yukon he had learned how to take the spirit out of dogs. + +He pushed off, bow foremost. Bracing himself with his paddle he then +began to pull Kazan toward the water. In a few moments Kazan stood with +his forefeet planted in the damp sand at the edge of the stream. For a +brief interval Sandy allowed the babiche to fall slack. Then with a +sudden powerful pull he jerked Kazan out into the water. Instantly he +sent the canoe into midstream, swung it quickly down with the current, +and began to paddle enough to keep the babiche taut about his victim's +neck. In spite of his sickness and injuries Kazan was now compelled to +swim to keep his head above water. In the wash of the canoe, and with +Sandy's strokes growing steadily stronger, his position became each +moment one of increasing torture. At times his shaggy head was pulled +completely under water. At others Sandy would wait until he had drifted +alongside, and then thrust him under with the end of his paddle. He grew +weaker. At the end of a half-mile he was drowning. Not until then did +Sandy pull him alongside and drag him into the canoe. The dog fell limp +and gasping in the bottom. Brutal though Sandy's methods had been, they +had worked his purpose. In Kazan there was no longer a desire to fight. +He no longer struggled for freedom. He knew that this man was his +master, and for the time his spirit was gone. All he desired now was to +be allowed to lie in the bottom of the canoe, out of reach of the club, +and safe from the water. The club lay between him and the man. The end +of it was within a foot or two of his nose, and what he smelled was his +own blood. + +For five days and five nights the journey down-stream continued, and +McTrigger's process of civilizing Kazan was continued in three more +beatings with the club, and another resort to the water torture. On the +morning of the sixth day they reached Red Gold City, and McTrigger put +up his tent close to the river. Somewhere he obtained a chain for Kazan, +and after fastening the dog securely back of the tent he cut off the +babiche muzzle. + +"You can't put on meat in a muzzle," he told his prisoner. "An' I want +you to git strong--an' fierce as hell. I've got an idee. It's an idee +you can lick your weight in wildcats. We'll pull off a stunt pretty soon +that'll fill our pockets with dust. I've done it afore, and we can do it +_here_. Wolf an' dog--s'elp me Gawd but it'll be a drawin' card!" + +Twice a day after this he brought fresh raw meat to Kazan. Quickly +Kazan's spirit and courage returned to him. The soreness left his limbs. +His battered jaws healed. And after the fourth day each time that Sandy +came with meat he greeted him with the challenge of his snarling fangs. +McTrigger did not beat him now. He gave him no fish, no tallow and +meal--nothing but raw meat. He traveled five miles up the river to bring +in the fresh entrail of a caribou that had been killed. One day Sandy +brought another man with him and when the stranger came a step too near +Kazan made a sudden swift lunge at him. The man jumped back with a +startled oath. + +"He'll do," he growled. "He's lighter by ten or fifteen pounds than the +Dane, but he's got the teeth, an' the quickness, an' he'll give a good +show before he goes under." + +"I'll make you a bet of twenty-five per cent. of my share that he don't +go under," offered Sandy. + +"Done!" said the other. "How long before he'll be ready?" + +Sandy thought a moment. + +"Another week," he said. "He won't have his weight before then. A week +from to-day, we'll say. Next Tuesday night. Does that suit you, Harker?" + +Harker nodded. + +"Next Tuesday night," he agreed. Then he added, "I'll make it a _half_ +of my share that the Dane kills your wolf-dog." + +Sandy took a long look at Kazan. + +"I'll just take you on that," he said. Then, as he shook Harker's hand, +"I don't believe there's a dog between here and the Yukon that can kill +the wolf!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +PROFESSOR McGILL + + +Red Gold City was ripe for a night of relaxation. There had been some +gambling, a few fights and enough liquor to create excitement now and +then, but the presence of the mounted police had served to keep things +unusually tame compared with events a few hundred miles farther north, +in the Dawson country. The entertainment proposed by Sandy McTrigger and +Jan Harker met with excited favor. The news spread for twenty miles +about Red Gold City and there had never been greater excitement in the +town than on the afternoon and night of the big fight. This was largely +because Kazan and the huge Dane had been placed on exhibition, each dog +in a specially made cage of his own, and a fever of betting began. Three +hundred men, each of whom was paying five dollars to see the battle, +viewed the gladiators through the bars of their cages. Harker's dog was +a combination of Great Dane and mastiff, born in the North, and bred to +the traces. Betting favored him by the odds of two to one. Occasionally +it ran three to one. At these odds there was plenty of Kazan money. +Those who were risking their money on him were the older wilderness +men--men who had spent their lives among dogs, and who knew what the red +glint in Kazan's eyes meant. An old Kootenay miner spoke low in +another's ear: + +"I'd bet on 'im even. I'd give odds if I had to. He'll fight all around +the Dane. The Dane won't have no method." + +"But he's got the weight," said the other dubiously. "Look at his jaws, +an' his shoulders--" + +"An' his big feet, an' his soft throat, an' the clumsy thickness of his +belly," interrupted the Kootenay man. "For Gawd's sake, man, take my +word for it, an' don't put your money on the Dane!" + +Others thrust themselves between them. At first Kazan had snarled at all +these faces about him. But now he lay back against the boarded side of +the cage and eyed them sullenly from between his forepaws. + +The fight was to be pulled off in Barker's place, a combination of +saloon and cafe. The benches and tables had been cleared out and in the +center of the one big room a cage ten feet square rested on a platform +three and a half feet from the floor. Seats for the three hundred +spectators were drawn closely around this. Suspended just above the open +top of the cage were two big oil lamps with glass reflectors. + +It was eight o'clock when Harker, McTrigger and two other men bore Kazan +to the arena by means of the wooden bars that projected from the bottom +of his cage. The big Dane was already in the fighting cage. He stood +blinking his eyes in the brilliant light of the reflecting lamps. He +pricked up his ears when he saw Kazan. Kazan did not show his fangs. +Neither revealed the expected animosity. It was the first they had seen +of each other, and a murmur of disappointment swept the ranks of the +three hundred men. The Dane remained as motionless as a rock when Kazan +was prodded from his own cage into the fighting cage. He did not leap or +snarl. He regarded Kazan with a dubious questioning poise to his +splendid head, and then looked again to the expectant and excited faces +of the waiting men. For a few moments Kazan stood stiff-legged, facing +the Dane. Then his shoulders dropped, and he, too, coolly faced the +crowd that had expected a fight to the death. A laugh of derision swept +through the closely seated rows. Catcalls, jeering taunts flung at +McTrigger and Harker, and angry voices demanding their money back +mingled with a tumult of growing discontent. Sandy's face was red with +mortification and rage. The blue veins in Barker's forehead had swollen +twice their normal size. He shook his fist in the face of the crowd, and +shouted: + +"Wait! Give 'em a chance, you dam' fools!" + +At his words every voice was stilled. Kazan had turned. He was facing +the huge Dane. And the Dane had turned his eyes to Kazan. Cautiously, +prepared for a lunge or a sidestep, Kazan advanced a little. The Dane's +shoulders bristled. He, too, advanced upon Kazan. Four feet apart they +stood rigid. One could have heard a whisper in the room now. Sandy and +Harker, standing close to the cage, scarcely breathed. Splendid in every +limb and muscle, warriors of a hundred fights, and fearless to the point +of death, the two half-wolf victims of man stood facing each other. None +could see the questioning look in their brute eyes. None knew that in +this thrilling moment the unseen hand of the wonderful Spirit God of the +wilderness hovered between them, and that one of its miracles was +descending upon them. It was _understanding_. Meeting in the +open--rivals in the traces--they would have been rolling in the throes +of terrific battle. But _here_ came that mute appeal of brotherhood. In +the final moment, when only a step separated them, and when men expected +to see the first mad lunge, the splendid Dane slowly raised his head and +looked over Kazan's back through the glare of the lights. Harker +trembled, and under his breath he cursed. The Dane's throat was open to +Kazan. But between the beasts had passed the voiceless pledge of peace. +Kazan did not leap. He turned. And shoulder to shoulder--splendid in +their contempt of man--they stood and looked through the bars of their +prison into the one of human faces. + +A roar burst from the crowd--a roar of anger, of demand, of threat. In +his rage Harker drew a revolver and leveled it at the Dane. Above the +tumult of the crowd a single voice stopped him. + +"Hold!" it demanded. "Hold--in the name of the law!" + +For a moment there was silence. Every face turned in the direction of +the voice. Two men stood on chairs behind the last row. One was Sergeant +Brokaw, of the Royal Northwest Mounted. It was he who had spoken. He was +holding up a hand, commanding silence and attention. On the chair beside +him stood another man. He was thin, with drooping shoulders, and a pale +smooth face--a little man, whose physique and hollow cheeks told nothing +of the years he had spent close up along the raw edge of the Arctic. It +was he who spoke now, while the sergeant held up his hand. His voice was +low and quiet: + +"I'll give the owners five hundred dollars for those dogs," he said. + +Every man in the room heard the offer. Harker looked at Sandy. For an +instant their heads were close together. + +"They won't fight, and they'll make good team-mates," the little man +went on. "I'll give the owners five hundred dollars." + +Harker raised a hand. + +"Make it six," he said. "Make it six and they're yours." + +The little man hesitated. Then he nodded. + +"I'll give you six hundred," he agreed. + +Murmurs of discontent rose throughout the crowd. Harker climbed to the +edge of the platform. + +"We ain't to blame because they wouldn't fight," he shouted, "but if +there's any of you small enough to want your money back you can git it +as you go out. The dogs laid down on us, that's all. We ain't to blame." + +The little man was edging his way between the chairs, accompanied by the +sergeant of police. With his pale face close to the sapling bars of the +cage he looked at Kazan and the big Dane. + +"I guess we'll be good friends," he said, and he spoke so low that only +the dogs heard his voice. "It's a big price, but we'll charge it to the +Smithsonian, lads. I'm going to need a couple of four-footed friends of +your moral caliber." + +And no one knew why Kazan and the Dane drew nearer to the little +scientist's side of the cage as he pulled out a big roll of bills and +counted out six hundred dollars for Harker and Sandy McTrigger. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ALONE IN DARKNESS + + +Never had the terror and loneliness of blindness fallen upon Gray Wolf +as in the days that followed the shooting of Kazan and his capture by +Sandy McTrigger. For hours after the shot she crouched in the bush back +from the river, waiting for him to come to her. She had faith that he +would come, as he had come a thousand times before, and she lay close on +her belly, sniffing the air, and whining when it brought no scent of her +mate. Day and night were alike an endless chaos of darkness to her now, +but she knew when the sun went down. She sensed the first deepening +shadows of evening, and she knew that the stars were out, and that the +river lay in moonlight. It was a night to roam, and after a time she +moved restlessly about in a small circle on the plain, and sent out her +first inquiring call for Kazan. Up from the river came the pungent odor +of smoke, and instinctively she knew that it was this smoke, and the +nearness of man, that was keeping Kazan from her. But she went no nearer +than that first circle made by her padded feet. Blindness had taught her +to wait. Since the day of the battle on the Sun Rock, when the lynx had +destroyed her eyes, Kazan had never failed her. Three times she called +for him in the early night. Then she made herself a nest under a +_banskian_ shrub, and waited until dawn. + +Just how she knew when night blotted out the last glow of the sun, so +without seeing she knew when day came. Not until she felt the warmth of +the sun on her back did her anxiety overcome her caution. Slowly she +moved toward the river, sniffing the air and whining. There was no +longer the smell of smoke in the air, and she could not catch the scent +of man. She followed her own trail back to the sand-bar, and in the +fringe of thick bush overhanging the white shore of the stream she +stopped and listened. After a little she scrambled down and went +straight to the spot where she and Kazan were drinking when the shot +came. And there her nose struck the sand still wet and thick with +Kazan's blood. She knew it was the blood of her mate, for the scent of +him was all about her in the sand, mingled with the man-smell of Sandy +McTrigger. She sniffed the trail of his body to the edge of the stream, +where Sandy had dragged him to the canoe. She found the fallen tree to +which he had been tied. And then she came upon one of the two clubs that +Sandy had used to beat wounded Kazan into submissiveness. It was covered +with blood and hair, and all at once Gray Wolf lay back on her haunches +and turned her blind face to the sky, and there rose from her throat a +cry for Kazan that drifted for miles on the wings of the south wind. +Never had Gray Wolf given quite that cry before. It was not the "call" +that comes with the moonlit nights, and neither was it the hunt-cry, nor +the she-wolf's yearning for matehood. It carried with it the lament of +death. And after that one cry Gray Wolf slunk back to the fringe of bush +over the river, and lay with her face turned to the stream. + +A strange terror fell upon her. She had grown accustomed to darkness, +but never before had she been _alone_ in that darkness. Always there +had been the guardianship of Kazan's presence. She heard the clucking +sound of a spruce hen in the bush a few yards away, and now that sound +came to her as if from out of another world. A ground-mouse rustled +through the grass close to her forepaws, and she snapped at it, and +closed her teeth on a rock. The muscles of her shoulders twitched +tremulously and she shivered as if stricken by intense cold. She was +terrified by the darkness that shut out the world from her, and she +pawed at her closed eyes, as if she might open them to light. Early in +the afternoon she wandered back on the plain. It was different. It +frightened her, and soon she returned to the beach, and snuggled down +under the tree where Kazan had lain. She was not so frightened here. The +smell of Kazan was strong about her. For an hour she lay motionless, +with her head resting on the club clotted with his hair and blood. Night +found her still there. And when the moon and the stars came out she +crawled back into the pit in the white sand that Kazan's body had made +under the tree. + +With dawn she went down to the edge of the stream to drink. She could +not see that the day was almost as dark as night, and that the +gray-black sky was a chaos of slumbering storm. But she could smell the +presence of it in the thick air, and could _feel_ the forked flashes of +lightning that rolled up with the dense pall from the south and west. +The distant rumbling of thunder grew louder, and she huddled herself +again under the tree. For hours the storm crashed over her, and the rain +fell in a deluge. When it had finished she slunk out from her shelter +like a thing beaten. Vainly she sought for one last scent of Kazan. The +club was washed clean. Again the sand was white where Kazan's blood had +reddened it. Even under the tree there was no sign of him left. + +Until now only the terror of being alone in the pit of darkness that +enveloped her had oppressed Gray Wolf. With afternoon came hunger. It +was this hunger that drew her from the sand-bar, and she wandered back +into the plain. A dozen times she scented game, and each time it evaded +her. Even a ground-mouse that she cornered under a root, and dug out +with her paws, escaped her fangs. + +Thirty-six hours before this Kazan and Gray Wolf had left a half of +their last kill a mile of two farther back on the plain. The kill was +one of the big barren rabbits, and Gray Wolf turned in its direction. +She did not require sight to find it. In her was developed to its finest +point that sixth sense of the animal kingdom, the sense of orientation, +and as straight as a pigeon might have winged its flight she cut through +the bush to the spot where they had cached the rabbit. A white fox had +been there ahead of her, and she found only scattered bits of hair and +fur. What the fox had left the moose-birds and bush-jays had carried +away. Hungrily Gray Wolf turned back to the river. + +That night she slept again where Kazan had lain, and three times she +called for him without answer. A heavy dew fell, and it drenched the +last vestige of her mate's scent out of the sand. But still through the +day that followed, and the day that followed that, blind Gray Wolf clung +to the narrow rim of white sand. On the fourth day her hunger reached a +point where she gnawed the bark from willow bushes. It was on this day +that she made a discovery. She was drinking, when her sensitive nose +touched something in the water's edge that was smooth, and bore a faint +odor of flesh. It was one of the big northern river clams. She pawed it +ashore, sniffing at the hard shell. Then she crunched it between her +teeth. She had never tasted sweeter meat than that which she found +inside, and she began hunting for other clams. She found many of them, +and ate until she was no longer hungry. For three days more she remained +on the bar. + +And then, one night, the call came to her. It set her quivering with a +strange new excitement--something that may have been a new hope, and in +the moonlight she trotted nervously up and down the shining strip of +sand, facing now the north, and now the south, and then the east and the +west--her head flung up, listening, as if in the soft wind of the night +she was trying to locate the whispering lure of a wonderful voice. And +whatever it was that came to her came from out of the south and east. +Off there--across the barren, far beyond the outer edge of the northern +timber-line--was _home_. And off there, in her brute way, she reasoned +that she must find Kazan. The call did not come from their old windfall +home in the swamp. It came from beyond that, and in a flashing vision +there rose through her blindness a picture of the towering Sun Rock, of +the winding trail that led to it, and the cabin on the plain. It was +there that blindness had come to her. It was there that day had ended, +and eternal night had begun. And it was there that she had mothered her +first-born. Nature had registered these things so that they could never +be wiped out of her memory, and when the call came it was from the +sunlit world where she had last known light and life and had last seen +the moon and the stars in the blue night of the skies. + +And to that call she responded, leaving the river and its food behind +her--straight out into the face of darkness and starvation, no longer +fearing death or the emptiness of the world she could not see; for ahead +of her, two hundred miles away, she could see the Sun Rock, the winding +trail, the nest of her first-born between the two big rocks--_and +Kazan_! + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE LAST OF McTRIGGER + + +Sixty miles farther north Kazan lay at the end of his fine steel chain, +watching little Professor McGill mixing a pail of tallow and bran. A +dozen yards from him lay the big Dane, his huge jaws drooling in +anticipation of the unusual feast which McGill was preparing. He showed +signs of pleasure when McGill approached him with a quart of the +mixture, and he gulped it between his huge jaws. The little man with the +cold blue eyes and the gray-blond hair stroked his back without fear. +His attitude was different when he turned to Kazan. His movements were +filled with caution, and yet his eyes and his lips were smiling, and he +gave the wolf-dog no evidence of his fear, if it could be called fear. + +The little professor, who was up in the north country for the +Smithsonian Institution, had spent a third of his life among dogs. He +loved them, and understood them. He had written a number of magazine +articles on dog intellect that had attracted wide attention among +naturalists. It was largely because he loved dogs, and understood them +more than most men, that he had bought Kazan and the big Dane on the +night when Sandy McTrigger and his partner had tried to get them to +fight to the death in the Red Gold City saloon. The refusal of the two +splendid beasts to kill each other for the pleasure of the three hundred +men who had assembled to witness the fight delighted him. He had already +planned a paper on the incident. Sandy had told him the story of Kazan's +capture, and of his wild mate, Gray Wolf, and the professor had asked +him a thousand questions. But each day Kazan puzzled him more. No amount +of kindness on his part could bring a responsive gleam in Kazan's eyes. +Not once did Kazan signify a willingness to become friends. And yet he +did not snarl at McGill, or snap at his hands when they came within +reach. Quite frequently Sandy McTrigger came over to the little cabin +where McGill was staying, and three times Kazan leaped at the end of +his chain to get at him, and his white fangs gleamed as long as Sandy +was in sight. Alone with McGill he became quiet. Something told him that +McGill had come as a friend that night when he and the big Dane stood +shoulder to shoulder in the cage that had been built for a slaughter +pen. Away down in his brute heart he held McGill apart from other men. +He had no desire to harm him. He tolerated him, but showed none of the +growing affection of the huge Dane. It was this fact that puzzled +McGill. He had never before known a dog that he could not make love him. + +To-day he placed the tallow and bran before Kazan, and the smile in his +face gave way to a look of perplexity. Kazan's lips had drawn suddenly +back. A fierce snarl rolled deep in his throat. The hair along his spine +stood up. His muscles twitched. Instinctively the professor turned. +Sandy McTrigger had come up quietly behind him. His brutal face wore a +grin as he looked at Kazan. + +"It's a fool job--tryin' to make friends with _him_" he said. Then he +added, with a sudden interested gleam in his eyes, "When you startin'?" + +"With first frost," replied McGill. "It ought to come soon. I'm going to +join Sergeant Conroy and his party at Fond du Lac by the first of +October." + +"And you're going up to Fond du Lac--alone?" queried Sandy. "Why don't +you take a man?" + +The little professor laughed softly. + +"Why?" he asked. "I've been through the Athabasca waterways a dozen +times, and know the trail as well as I know Broadway. Besides, I like to +be alone. And the work isn't too hard, with the currents all flowing to +the north and east." + +Sandy was looking at the Dane, with his back to McGill. An exultant +gleam shot for an instant into his eyes. + +"You're taking the dogs?" + +"Yes." + +Sandy lighted his pipe, and spoke like one strangely curious. + +"Must cost a heap to take these trips o' yourn, don't it?" + +"My last cost about seven thousand dollars. This will cost five," said +McGill. + +"Gawd!" breathed Sandy. "An' you carry all that along with you! Ain't +you afraid--something might happen--?" + +The little professor was looking the other way now. The carelessness in +his face and manner changed. His blue eyes grew a shade darker. A hard +smile which Sandy did not see hovered about his lips for an instant. +Then he turned, laughing. + +"I'm a very light sleeper," he said. "A footstep at night rouses me. +Even a man's breathing awakes me, when I make up my mind that I must be +on my guard. And, besides"--he drew from his pocket a blue-steeled +Savage automatic--"I know how to use _this_." He pointed to a knot in +the wall of the cabin. "Observe," he said. Five times he fired at twenty +paces, and when Sandy went up to look at the knot he gave a gasp. There +was one jagged hole where the knot had been. + +"Pretty good," he grinned. "Most men couldn't do better'n that with a +rifle." + +When Sandy left, McGill followed him with a suspicious gleam in his +eyes, and a curious smile on his lips. Then he turned to Kazan. + +"Guess you've got him figgered out about right, old man," he laughed +softly. "I don't blame you very much for wanting to get him by the +throat. Perhaps--" + +He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and went into the cabin. Kazan +dropped his head between his forepaws, and lay still, with wide-open +eyes. It was late afternoon, early in September, and each night brought +now the first chill breaths of autumn. Kazan watched the last glow of +the sun as it faded out of the southern skies. Darkness always followed +swiftly after that, and with darkness came more fiercely his wild +longing for freedom. Night after night he had gnawed at his steel chain. +Night after night he had watched the stars, and the moon, and had +listened for Gray Wolf's call, while the big Dane lay sleeping. To-night +it was colder than usual, and the keen tang of the wind that came fresh +from the west stirred him strangely. It set his blood afire with what +the Indians call the Frost Hunger. Lethargic summer was gone and the +days and nights of hunting were at hand. He wanted to leap out into +freedom and run until he was exhausted, with Gray Wolf at his side. He +knew that Gray Wolf was off there--where the stars hung low in the clear +sky, and that she was waiting. He strained at the end of his chain, and +whined. All that night he was restless--more restless than he had been +at any time before. Once, in the far distance, he heard a cry that he +thought was the cry of Gray Wolf, and his answer roused McGill from deep +sleep. It was dawn, and the little professor dressed himself and came +out of the cabin. With satisfaction he noted the exhilarating snap in +the air. He wet his fingers and held them above his head, chuckling when +he found the wind had swung into the north. He went to Kazan, and talked +to him. Among other things he said, "This'll put the black flies to +sleep, Kazan. A day or two more of it and we'll start." + +Five days later McGill led first the Dane, and then Kazan, to a packed +canoe. Sandy McTrigger saw them off, and Kazan watched for a chance to +leap at him. Sandy kept his distance, and McGill watched the two with a +thought that set the blood running swiftly behind the mask of his +careless smile. They had slipped a mile down-stream when he leaned over +and laid a fearless hand on Kazan's head. Something in the touch of that +hand, and in the professor's voice, kept Kazan from a desire to snap at +him. He tolerated the friendship with expressionless eyes and a +motionless body. + +"I was beginning to fear I wouldn't have much sleep, old boy," chuckled +McGill ambiguously, "but I guess I can take a nap now and then with +_you_ along!" + +He made camp that night fifteen miles up the lake shore. The big Dane he +fastened to a sapling twenty yards from his small silk tent, but Kazan's +chain he made fast to the butt of a stunted birch that held down the +tent-flap. Before he went into the tent for the night McGill pulled out +his automatic and examined it with care. + +For three days the journey continued without a mishap along the shore of +Lake Athabasca. On the fourth night McGill pitched his tent in a clump +of _banskian_ pine a hundred yards back from the water. All that day the +wind had come steadily from behind them, and for at least a half of the +day the professor had been watching Kazan closely. From the west there +had now and then come a scent that stirred him uneasily. Since noon he +had sniffed that wind. Twice McGill had heard him growling deep in his +throat, and once, when the scent had come stronger than usual, he had +bared his fangs, and the bristles stood up along his spine. For an hour +after striking camp the little professor did not build a fire, but sat +looking up the shore of the lake through his hunting glass. It was dusk +when he returned to where he had put up his tent and chained the dogs. +For a few moments he stood unobserved, looking at the wolf-dog. Kazan +was still uneasy. He lay _facing_ the west. McGill made note of this, +for the big Dane lay behind Kazan--to the east. Under ordinary +conditions Kazan would have faced him. He was sure now that there was +something in the west wind. A little shiver ran up his back as he +thought of what it might be. + +Behind a rock he built a very small fire, and prepared supper. After +this he went into the tent, and when he came out he carried a blanket +under his arm. He chuckled as he stood for a moment over Kazan. + +"We're not going to sleep in there to-night, old hoy," he said. "I don't +like what you've found in the west wind. It may he a--_thunder-storm!_" +He laughed at his joke, and buried himself in a clump of stunted +_banskians_ thirty paces from the tent. Here he rolled himself in his +blanket, and went to sleep. + +It was a quiet starlit night, and hours afterward Kazan dropped his nose +between his forepaws and drowsed. It was the snap of a twig that roused +him. The sound did not awaken the sluggish Dane but instantly Kazan's +head was alert, his keen nostrils sniffing the air. What he had smelled +all day was heavy about him now. He lay still and quivering. Slowly, +from out of the _banskians_ behind the tent, there came a figure. It was +not the little professor. It approached cautiously, with lowered head +and hunched shoulders, and the starlight revealed the murderous face of +Sandy McTrigger. Kazan crouched low. He laid his head flat between his +forepaws. His long fangs gleamed. But he made no sound that betrayed his +concealment under a thick _banskian_ shrub. Step by step Sandy +approached, and at last he reached the flap of the tent. He did not +carry a club or a whip in his hand now. In the place of either of those +was the glitter of steel. At the door to the tent he paused, and peered +in, his back to Kazan. + +Silently, swiftly--the wolf now in every movement, Kazan came to his +feet. He forgot the chain that held him. Ten feet away stood the enemy +he hated above all others he had ever known. Every ounce of strength in +his splendid body gathered itself for the spring. And then he leaped. +This time the chain did not pull him back, almost neck-broken. Age and +the elements had weakened the leather collar he had worn since the days +of his slavery in the traces, and it gave way with a snap. Sandy turned, +and in a second leap Kazan's fangs sank into the flesh of his arm. With +a startled cry the man fell, and as they rolled over on the ground the +big Dane's deep voice rolled out in thunderous alarm as he tugged at his +leash. In the fall Kazan's hold was broken. In an instant he was on his +feet, ready for another attack. And then the change came. He was +_free_. The collar was gone from his neck. The forest, the stars, the +whispering wind were all about him. _Here_ were men, and off there +was--Gray Wolf! His ears dropped, and he turned swiftly, and slipped +like a shadow back into the glorious freedom of his world. + +A hundred yards away something stopped him for an instant. It was not +the big Dane's voice, but the sharp _crack--crack--crack_, of the little +professor's automatic. And above that sound there rose the voice of +Sandy McTrigger in a weird and terrible cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AN EMPTY WORLD + + +Mile after mile Kazan went on. For a time he was oppressed by the +shivering note of death that had come to him in Sandy McTrigger's cry, +and he slipped through the _banskians_ like a shadow, his ears +flattened, his tail trailing, his hindquarters betraying that curious +slinking quality of the wolf and dog stealing away from danger. Then he +came out upon a plain, and the stillness, the billion stars in the clear +vault of the sky, and the keen air that carried with it a breath of the +Arctic barrens made him alert and questioning. He faced the direction of +the wind. Somewhere off there, far to the south and west, was Gray Wolf. +For the first time in many weeks he sat back on his haunches and gave +the deep and vibrant call that echoed weirdly for miles about him. Back +in the _banskians_ the big Dane heard it, and whined. From over the +still body of Sandy McTrigger the little professor looked up with a +white tense face, and listened for a second cry. But instinct told Kazan +that to that first call there would be no answer, and now he struck out +swiftly, galloping mile after mile, as a dog follows the trail of its +master home. He did not turn hack to the lake, nor was his direction +toward Red Gold City. As straight as he might have followed a road +blazed by the hand of man he cut across the forty miles of plain and +swamp and forest and rocky ridge that lay between him and the McFarlane. +All that night he did not call again for Gray Wolf. With him reasoning +was a process brought about by habit--by precedent--and as Gray Wolf had +waited for him many times before he knew that she would be waiting for +him now near the sand-bar. + +By dawn he had reached the river, within three miles of the sand-bar. +Scarcely was the sun up when he stood on the white strip of sand where +he and Gray Wolf had come down to drink. Expectantly and confidently he +looked about him for Gray Wolf, whining softly, and wagging his tail. He +began to search for her scent, but rains had washed even her footprints +from the clean sand. All that day he searched for her along the river +and out on the plain. He went to where they had killed their last +rabbit. He sniffed at the bushes where the poison baits had hung. Again +and again he sat back on his haunches and sent out his mating cry to +her. And slowly, as he did these things, nature was working in him that +miracle of the wild which the Crees have named the "spirit call." As it +had worked in Gray Wolf, so now it stirred the blood of Kazan. With the +going of the sun, and the sweeping about him of shadowy night, he turned +more and more to the south and east. His whole world was made up of the +trails over which he had hunted. Beyond those places he did not know +that there was such a thing as existence. And in that world, small in +his understanding of things, was Gray Wolf. He could not miss her. That +world, in his comprehension of it, ran from the McFarlane in a narrow +trail through the forests and over the plains to the little valley from +which the beavers had driven them. If Gray Wolf was not here--she was +there, and tirelessly he resumed his quest of her. + +Not until the stars were fading out of the sky again, and gray day was +giving place to night, did exhaustion and hunger stop him. He killed a +rabbit, and for hours after he had feasted he lay close to his kill, and +slept. Then he went on. + +The fourth night he came to the little valley between the two ridges, +and under the stars, more brilliant now in the chill clearness of the +early autumn nights, he followed the creek down into their old swamp +home. It was broad day when he reached the edge of the great beaver pond +that now completely surrounded the windfall under which Gray-Wolf's +second-born had come into the world. Broken Tooth and the other beavers +had wrought a big change in what had once been his home and Gray Wolf's, +and for many minutes Kazan stood silent and motionless at the edge of +the pond, sniffing the air heavy with the unpleasant odor of the +usurpers. Until now his spirit had remained unbroken. Footsore, with +thinned sides and gaunt head, he circled slowly through the swamp. All +that day he searched. And his crest lay flat now, and there was a hunted +look in the droop of his shoulders and in the shifting look of his +eyes. Gray Wolf was gone. + +Slowly nature was impinging that fact upon him. She had passed out of +his world and out of his life, and he was filled with a loneliness and a +grief so great that the forest seemed strange, and the stillness of the +wild a thing that now oppressed and frightened him. Once more the dog in +him was mastering the wolf. With Gray Wolf he had possessed the world of +freedom. Without her, that world was so big and strange and empty that +it appalled him. Late in the afternoon he came upon a little pile of +crushed clamshells on the shore of the stream. He sniffed at +them--turned away--went back, and sniffed again. It was where Gray Wolf +had made a last feast in the swamp before continuing south. But the +scent she had left behind was not strong enough to tell Kazan, and for a +second time he turned away. That night he slunk under a log, and cried +himself to sleep. Deep in the night he grieved in his uneasy slumber, +like a child. And day after day, and night after night, Kazan remained a +slinking creature of the big swamp, mourning for the one creature that +had brought him out of chaos into light, who had filled his world for +him, and who, in going from him, had taken from this world even the +things that Gray Wolf had lost in her blindness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE CALL OF SUN ROCK + + +In the golden glow of the autumn sun there came up the stream overlooked +by the Sun Rock one day a man, a woman and a child in a canoe. +Civilization had done for lovely Joan what it had done for many another +wild flower transplanted from the depths of the wilderness. Her cheeks +were thin. Her blue eyes had lost their luster. She coughed, and when +she coughed the man looked at her with love and fear in his eyes. But +now, slowly, the man had begun to see the transformation, and on the day +their canoe pointed up the stream and into the wonderful valley that had +been their home before the call of the distant city came to them, he +noted the flush gathering once more in her cheeks, the fuller redness of +her lips, and the gathering glow of happiness and content in her eyes. +He laughed softly as he saw these things, and he blessed the forests. In +the canoe she had leaned back, with her head almost against his +shoulder, and he stopped paddling to draw her to him, and run his +fingers through the soft golden masses of her hair. + +"You are happy again, Joan," he laughed joyously. "The doctors were +right. You are a part of the forests." + +"Yes, I am happy," she whispered, and suddenly there came a little +thrill into her voice, and she pointed to a white finger of sand running +out into the stream. "Do you remember--years and years ago, it +seems--that Kazan left us here? _She_ was on the sand over there, +calling to him. Do you remember?" There was a little tremble about her +mouth, and she added, "I wonder--where they--have gone." + +The cabin was as they had left it. Only the crimson _bakneesh_ had grown +up about it, and shrubs and tall grass had sprung up near its walls. +Once more it took on life, and day by day the color came deeper into +Joan's cheeks, and her voice was filled with its old wild sweetness of +song. Joan's husband cleared the trails over his old trap-lines, and +Joan and the little Joan, who romped and talked now, transformed the +cabin into _home_. One night the man returned to the cabin late, and +when he came in there was a glow of excitement in Joan's blue eyes, and +a tremble in her voice when she greeted him. + +"Did you hear it?" she asked. "Did you hear--_the call_?" + +He nodded, stroking her soft hair. + +"I was a mile back in the creek swamp," he said. "I heard it!" + +Joan's hands clutched his arms. + +"It wasn't Kazan," she said. "I would recognize _his_ voice. But it +seemed to me it was like the other--the call that came that morning from +the sand-bar, his _mate_?" + +The man was thinking. Joan's fingers tightened. She was breathing a +little quickly. + +"Will you promise me this?" she asked, "Will you promise me that you +will never hunt or trap for wolves?" + +"I had thought of that," he replied. "I thought of it--after I heard the +call. Yes, I will promise." + +Joan's arms stole up about his neck. + +"We loved Kazan," she whispered. "And you might kill him--or _her_" + +Suddenly she stopped. Both listened. The door was a little ajar, and to +them there came again the wailing mate-call of the wolf. Joan ran to the +door. Her husband followed. Together they stood silent, and with tense +breath Joan pointed over the starlit plain. + +"Listen! Listen!" she commanded. "It's her cry, _and it came from the +Sun Rock_!" + +She ran out into the night, forgetting that the man was close behind her +now, forgetting that little Joan was alone in her bed. And to them, from +miles and miles across the plain, there came a wailing cry in answer--a +cry that seemed a part of the wind, and that thrilled Joan until her +breath broke in a strange sob. + +Farther out on the plain she went and then stopped, with the golden glow +of the autumn moon and the stars shimmering in her hair and eyes. It was +many minutes before the cry came again, and then it was so near that +Joan put her hands to her mouth, and her cry rang out over the plain as +in the days of old. + +"_Kazan! Kazan! Kazan_!" + +At the top of the Sun Rock, Gray Wolf--gaunt and thinned by +starvation--heard the woman's cry, and the call that was in her throat +died away in a whine. And to the north a swiftly moving shadow stopped +for a moment, and stood like a thing of rock under the starlight. It was +Kazan. A strange fire leaped through his body. Every fiber of his brute +understanding was afire with the knowledge that here was _home_. It was +here, long ago, that he had lived, and loved, and fought--and all at +once the dreams that had grown faded and indistinct in his memory came +back to him as real living things. For, coming to him faintly over the +plain, _he heard Joan's voice!_ + +In the starlight Joan stood, tense and white, when from out of the pale +mists of the moon-glow he came to her, cringing on his belly, panting +and wind-run, and with a strange whining note in his throat. And as Joan +went to him, her arms reaching out, her lips sobbing his name over and +over again, the man stood and looked down upon them with the wonder of a +new and greater understanding in his face. He had no fear of the +wolf-dog now. And as Joan's arms hugged Kazan's great shaggy head up to +her he heard the whining gasping joy of the beast and the sobbing +whispering voice of the girl, and with tensely gripped hands he faced +the Sun Rock. + +"My Gawd," he breathed. "I believe--it's so--" + +As if in response to the thought in his mind, there came once more +across the plain Gray Wolf's mate-seeking cry of grief and of +loneliness. Swiftly as though struck by a lash Kazan was on his +feet--oblivious of Joan's touch, of her voice, of the presence of the +man. In another instant he was gone, and Joan flung herself against her +husband's breast, and almost fiercely took his face between her two +hands. + +"_Now_ do you believe?" she cried pantingly. "_Now_ do you believe in +the God of my world--the God I have lived with, the God that gives souls +to the wild things, the God that--that has brought--us, +all--together--once more--_home_!" + +His arms closed gently about her. + +"I believe, my Joan," he whispered. + +"And you understand--now--what it means, 'Thou shalt not kill'?" + +"Except that it brings us life--yes, I understand," he replied. + +Her warm soft hands stroked his face. Her blue eyes, filled with the +glory of the stars, looked up into his. + +"Kazan and _she_--you and I--and the baby! Are you sorry--that we came +back?" she asked. + +So close he drew her against his breast that she did not hear the words +he whispered in the soft warmth of her hair. And after that, for many +hours, they sat in the starlight in front of the cabin door. But they +did not hear again that lonely cry from the Sun Rock. Joan and her +husband understood. + +"He'll visit us again to-morrow," the man said at last. "Come, Joan, let +us go to bed." + +Together they entered the cabin. + +And that night, side by side, Kazan and Gray Wolf hunted again in the +moonlit plain. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Kazan, by James Oliver Curwood + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KAZAN *** + +***** This file should be named 10084.txt or 10084.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/0/8/10084/ + +Produced by Kevin Handy, Dave Maddock, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/10084.zip b/old/10084.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c692b57 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10084.zip |
