“Look here, Henry,” Bill said, unconsciously lowering his voice to a whisper because of what he imitated.“We’ve got three cartridges. But it’s a dead shot. Couldn’t miss it.It’s got away with three of our dogs, an’ we oughter put a stop to it. What d’ye say?”
Henry nodded his consent. Bill cautiously slipped the gun from under the sled-lashing.The gun was on the way to his shoulder, but it never got there.For in that instant the she-wolf leaped sidewise from the trail into the clump of spruce trees and disappeared.
The two men looked at each other. Henry whistled long and comprehendingly.
“I might have knowed it,” Bill chided himself aloud as he replaced the gun.“Of course a wolf that knows enough to come in with the dogs at feedin’ time,’d know all about shooting-irons. I tell you right now, Henry,that critter’s the cause of all our trouble. We’d have six dogs at the present time,’stead of three, if it wasn’t for her. An’ I tell you right now, Henry, I’m goin’ to get her.She’s too smart to be shot in the open. But I’m goin’ to lay for her.I’ll bushwhack her as sure as my name is Bill.”
“You needn’t stray off too far in doin’ it,” his partner admonished.“If that pack ever starts to jump you, them three cartridges’d be wuth no more’n three whoops in hell.Them animals is damn hungry, an’ once they start in, they’ll sure get you, Bill.”
They camped early that night. Three dogs could not drag the sled so fast nor for so long hours as could six,and they were showing unmistakable signs of playing out. And the men went early to bed,Bill first seeing to it that the dogs were tied out of gnawing-reach of one another.
But the wolves were growing bolder, and the men were aroused more than once from their sleep.So near did the wolves approach, that the dogs became frantic with terror,and it was necessary to replenish the fire from time to time in order to keep the adventurous marauders at safer distance.
“I’ve hearn sailors talk of sharks followin’ a ship,” Bill remarked,as he crawled back into the blankets after one such replenishing of the fire. “Well,them wolves is land sharks. They know their business better’n we do,an’ they ain’t a-holdin’ our trail this way for their health. They’re goin’ to get us. They’re sure goin’ to get us, Henry.”
“They’ve half got you a’ready, a-talkin’ like that,” Henry retorted sharply.“A man’s half licked when he says he is.An’ you’re half eaten from the way you’re goin’ on about it.”
“They’ve got away with better men than you an’ me,” Bill answered.
“Oh, shet up your croakin’. You make me all-fired tired.”
Henry rolled over angrily on his side, but was surprised that Bill made no similar display of temper.This was not Bill’s way, for he was easily angered by sharp words.Henry thought long over it before he went to sleep,and as his eyelids fluttered down and he dozed off, the thought in his mind was:“There’s no mistakin’ it, Bill’s almighty blue. I’ll have to cheer him up to-morrow.”
CHAPTER III THE HUNGER CRY
The day began auspiciously. They had lost no dogs during the night,and they swung out upon the trail and into the silence, the darkness,and the cold with spirits that were fairly light.Bill seemed to have forgotten his forebodings of the previous night,and even waxed facetious with the dogs when, at midday,they overturned the sled on a bad piece of trail.
It was an awkward mix-up. The sled was upside down and jammed between a tree-trunk and a huge rock,and they were forced to unharness the dogs in order to straighten out the tangle.The two men were bent over the sled and trying to right it,when Henry observed One Ear sidling away.
“Here, you, One Ear!” he cried, straightening up and turning around on the dog.
But One Ear broke into a run across the snow, his traces trailing behind him. And there,out in the snow of their back track, was the she-wolf waiting for him. As he neared her,he became suddenly cautious. He slowed down to an alert and mincing walk and then stopped.He regarded her carefully and dubiously, yet desirefully. She seemed to smile at him,showing her teeth in an ingratiating rather than a menacing way. She moved toward him a few steps,playfully, and then halted. One Ear drew near to her, still alert and cautious,his tail and ears in the air, his head held high.
He tried to sniff noses with her, but she retreated playfully and coyly.Every advance on his part was accompanied by a corresponding retreat on her part.Step by step she was luring him away from the security of his human companionship. Once,as though a warning had in vague ways flitted through his intelligence,he turned his head and looked back at the overturned sled, at his team-mates,and at the two men who were calling to him.
But whatever idea was forming in his mind, was dissipated by the she-wolf, who advanced upon him,sniffed noses with him for a fleeting instant,and then resumed her coy retreat before his renewed advances.
In the meantime, Bill had bethought himself of the rifle.But it was jammed beneath the overturned sled,and by the time Henry had helped him to right the load,One Ear and the she-wolf were too close together and the distance too great to risk a shot.
Too late One Ear learned his mistake. Before they saw the cause,the two men saw him turn and start to run back toward them. Then,approaching at right angles to the trail and cutting off his retreat they saw a dozen wolves,lean and grey, bounding across the snow. On the instant,the she-wolf’s coyness and playfulness disappeared. With a snarl she sprang upon One Ear.He thrust her off with his shoulder, and,his retreat cut off and still intent on regaining the sled,he altered his course in an attempt to circle around to it.More wolves were appearing every moment and joining in the chase.The she-wolf was one leap behind One Ear and holding her own.
“Where are you goin’?” Henry suddenly demanded, laying his hand on his partner’s arm.
Bill shook it off. “I won’t stand it,” he said.“They ain’t a-goin’ to get any more of our dogs if I can help it.”
Gun in hand, he plunged into the underbrush that lined the side of the trail.His intention was apparent enough. Taking the sled as the centre of the circle that One Ear was making,Bill planned to tap that circle at a point in advance of the pursuit. With his rifle,in the broad daylight, it might be possible for him to awe the wolves and save the dog.
“Say, Bill!” Henry called after him. “Be careful!Don’t take no chances!”
Henry sat down on the sled and watched. There was nothing else for him to do.Bill had already gone from sight; but now and again,appearing and disappearing amongst the underbrush and the scattered clumps of spruce,could be seen One Ear. Henry judged his case to be hopeless.The dog was thoroughly alive to its danger,but it was running on the outer circle while the wolf-pack was running on the inner and shorter circle.It was vain to think of One Ear so outdistancing his pursuers as to be able to cut across their circle in advance of them and to regain the sled.
The different lines were rapidly approaching a point. Somewhere out there in the snow,screened from his sight by trees and thickets, Henry knew that the wolf-pack, One Ear,and Bill were coming together. All too quickly, far more quickly than he had expected, it happened.He heard a shot, then two shots, in rapid succession, and he knew that Bill’s ammunition was gone.Then he heard a great outcry of snarls and yelps. He recognised One Ear’s yell of pain and terror,and he heard a wolf-cry that bespoke a stricken animal. And that was all. The snarls ceased.The yelping died away. Silence settled down again over the lonely land.
He sat for a long while upon the sled. There was no need for him to go and see what had happened.He knew it as though it had taken place before his eyes. Once,he roused with a start and hastily got the axe out from underneath the lashings.But for some time longer he sat and brooded,the two remaining dogs crouching and trembling at his feet.
At last he arose in a weary manner, as though all the resilience had gone out of his body,and proceeded to fasten the dogs to the sled. He passed a rope over his shoulder, a man-trace,and pulled with the dogs. He did not go far.At the first hint of darkness he hastened to make a camp,and he saw to it that he had a generous supply of firewood. He fed the dogs,cooked and ate his supper, and made his bed close to the fire.
But he was not destined to enjoy that bed.Before his eyes closed the wolves had drawn too near for safety.It no longer required an effort of the vision to see them. They were all about him and the fire,in a narrow circle, and he could see them plainly in the firelight lying down, sitting up,crawling forward on their bellies, or slinking back and forth. They even slept.Here and there he could see one curled up in the snow like a dog,taking the sleep that was now denied himself.
He kept the fire brightly blazing, for he knew that it alone intervened between the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs.His two dogs stayed close by him, one on either side, leaning against him for protection,crying and whimpering, and at times snarling desperately when a wolf approached a little closer than usual.At such moments, when his dogs snarled, the whole circle would be agitated,the wolves coming to their feet and pressing tentatively forward,a chorus of snarls and eager yelps rising about him. Then the circle would lie down again,and here and there a wolf would resume its broken nap.
But this circle had a continuous tendency to draw in upon him. Bit by bit, an inch at a time,with here a wolf bellying forward, and there a wolf bellying forward,the circle would narrow until the brutes were almost within springing distance.Then he would seize brands from the fire and hurl them into the pack.A hasty drawing back always resulted, accompanied by angry yelps and frightened snarls when a well-aimed brand struck and scorched a too daring animal.
Morning found the man haggard and worn, wide-eyed from want of sleep.He cooked breakfast in the darkness, and at nine o’clock, when, with the coming of daylight,the wolf-pack drew back, he set about the task he had planned through the long hours of the night.Chopping down young saplings, he made them cross-bars of a scaffold by lashing them high up to the trunks of standing trees.Using the sled-lashing for a heaving rope, and with the aid of the dogs,he hoisted the coffin to the top of the scaffold.
“They got Bill, an’ they may get me, but they’ll sure never get you, young man,” he said,addressing the dead body in its tree-sepulchre.
Then he took the trail, the lightened sled bounding along behind the willing dogs; for they, too,knew that safety lay open in the gaining of Fort McGurry.The wolves were now more open in their pursuit,trotting sedately behind and ranging along on either side, their red tongues lolling out,their lean sides showing the undulating ribs with every movement. They were very lean,mere skin-bags stretched over bony frames,with strings for muscles—so lean that Henry found it in his mind to marvel that they still kept their feet and did not collapse forthright in the snow.
He did not dare travel until dark. At midday, not only did the sun warm the southern horizon,but it even thrust its upper rim, pale and golden, above the sky-line. He received it as a sign.The days were growing longer. The sun was returning.But scarcely had the cheer of its light departed, than he went into camp.There were still several hours of grey daylight and sombre twilight,and he utilised them in chopping an enormous supply of fire-wood.
With night came horror. Not only were the starving wolves growing bolder,but lack of sleep was telling upon Henry. He dozed despite himself, crouching by the fire,the blankets about his shoulders, the axe between his knees,and on either side a dog pressing close against him. He awoke once and saw in front of him,not a dozen feet away, a big grey wolf, one of the largest of the pack. And even as he looked,the brute deliberately stretched himself after the manner of a lazy dog,yawning full in his face and looking upon him with a possessive eye, as if, in truth,he were merely a delayed meal that was soon to be eaten.
This certitude was shown by the whole pack. Fully a score he could count,staring hungrily at him or calmly sleeping in the snow.They reminded him of children gathered about a spread table and awaiting permission to begin to eat. And he was the food they were to eat!He wondered how and when the meal would begin.
As he piled wood on the fire he discovered an appreciation of his own body which he had never felt before.He watched his moving muscles and was interested in the cunning mechanism of his fingers.By the light of the fire he crooked his fingers slowly and repeatedly now one at a time,now all together, spreading them wide or making quick gripping movements.He studied the nail-formation, and prodded the finger-tips, now sharply, and again softly,gauging the while the nerve-sensations produced. It fascinated him,and he grew suddenly fond of this subtle flesh of his that worked so beautifully and smoothly and delicately.Then he would cast a glance of fear at the wolf-circle drawn expectantly about him,and like a blow the realisation would strike him that this wonderful body of his,this living flesh, was no more than so much meat, a quest of ravenous animals,to be torn and slashed by their hungry fangs,to be sustenance to them as the moose and the rabbit had often been sustenance to him.
He came out of a doze that was half nightmare, to see the red-hued she-wolf before him.She was not more than half a dozen feet away sitting in the snow and wistfully regarding him.The two dogs were whimpering and snarling at his feet, but she took no notice of them.She was looking at the man, and for some time he returned her look.There was nothing threatening about her. She looked at him merely with a great wistfulness,but he knew it to be the wistfulness of an equally great hunger. He was the food,and the sight of him excited in her the gustatory sensations. Her mouth opened,the saliva drooled forth, and she licked her chops with the pleasure of anticipation.
A spasm of fear went through him. He reached hastily for a brand to throw at her.But even as he reached, and before his fingers had closed on the missile,she sprang back into safety; and he knew that she was used to having things thrown at her.She had snarled as she sprang away, baring her white fangs to their roots,all her wistfulness vanishing, being replaced by a carnivorous malignity that made him shudder.He glanced at the hand that held the brand,noticing the cunning delicacy of the fingers that gripped it,how they adjusted themselves to all the inequalities of the surface,curling over and under and about the rough wood, and one little finger,too close to the burning portion of the brand,sensitively and automatically writhing back from the hurtful heat to a cooler gripping-place;and in the same instant he seemed to see a vision of those same sensitive and delicate fingers being crushed and torn by the white teeth of the she-wolf.Never had he been so fond of this body of his as now when his tenure of it was so precarious.
All night, with burning brands, he fought off the hungry pack. When he dozed despite himself,the whimpering and snarling of the dogs aroused him. Morning came,but for the first time the light of day failed to scatter the wolves.The man waited in vain for them to go. They remained in a circle about him and his fire,displaying an arrogance of possession that shook his courage born of the morning light.
He made one desperate attempt to pull out on the trail.But the moment he left the protection of the fire, the boldest wolf leaped for him,but leaped short. He saved himself by springing back,the jaws snapping together a scant six inches from his thigh.The rest of the pack was now up and surging upon him,and a throwing of firebrands right and left was necessary to drive them back to a respectful distance.
Even in the daylight he did not dare leave the fire to chop fresh wood.Twenty feet away towered a huge dead spruce.He spent half the day extending his campfire to the tree,at any moment a half dozen burning faggots ready at hand to fling at his enemies. Once at the tree,he studied the surrounding forest in order to fell the tree in the direction of the most firewood.
The night was a repetition of the night before,save that the need for sleep was becoming overpowering.The snarling of his dogs was losing its efficacy. Besides, they were snarling all the time,and his benumbed and drowsy senses no longer took note of changing pitch and intensity.He awoke with a start. The she-wolf was less than a yard from him. Mechanically, at short range,without letting go of it, he thrust a brand full into her open and snarling mouth. She sprang away,yelling with pain, and while he took delight in the smell of burning flesh and hair,he watched her shaking her head and growling wrathfully a score of feet away.
But this time, before he dozed again, he tied a burning pine-knot to his right hand.His eyes were closed but few minutes when the burn of the flame on his flesh awakened him.For several hours he adhered to this programme.Every time he was thus awakened he drove back the wolves with flying brands, replenished the fire,and rearranged the pine-knot on his hand. All worked well,but there came a time when he fastened the pine-knot insecurely.As his eyes closed it fell away from his hand.
He dreamed. It seemed to him that he was in Fort McGurry. It was warm and comfortable,and he was playing cribbage with the Factor. Also,it seemed to him that the fort was besieged by wolves. They were howling at the very gates,and sometimes he and the Factor paused from the game to listen and laugh at the futile efforts of the wolves to get in.And then, so strange was the dream, there was a crash. The door was burst open.He could see the wolves flooding into the big living-room of the fort.They were leaping straight for him and the Factor. With the bursting open of the door,the noise of their howling had increased tremendously. This howling now bothered him.His dream was merging into something else—he knew not what; but through it all, following him, persisted the howling.
And then he awoke to find the howling real. There was a great snarling and yelping.The wolves were rushing him. They were all about him and upon him.The teeth of one had closed upon his arm. Instinctively he leaped into the fire, and as he leaped,he felt the sharp slash of teeth that tore through the flesh of his leg. Then began a fire fight.His stout mittens temporarily protected his hands,and he scooped live coals into the air in all directions,until the campfire took on the semblance of a volcano.
But it could not last long. His face was blistering in the heat,his eyebrows and lashes were singed off, and the heat was becoming unbearable to his feet.With a flaming brand in each hand, he sprang to the edge of the fire.The wolves had been driven back. On every side, wherever the live coals had fallen,the snow was sizzling, and every little while a retiring wolf, with wild leap and snort and snarl,announced that one such live coal had been stepped upon.
Flinging his brands at the nearest of his enemies,the man thrust his smouldering mittens into the snow and stamped about to cool his feet.His two dogs were missing, and he well knew that they had served as a course in the protracted meal which had begun days before with Fatty,the last course of which would likely be himself in the days to follow.
“You ain’t got me yet!” he cried, savagely shaking his fist at the hungry beasts;and at the sound of his voice the whole circle was agitated, there was a general snarl,and the she-wolf slid up close to him across the snow and watched him with hungry wistfulness.
He set to work to carry out a new idea that had come to him.He extended the fire into a large circle. Inside this circle he crouched,his sleeping outfit under him as a protection against the melting snow.When he had thus disappeared within his shelter of flame,the whole pack came curiously to the rim of the fire to see what had become of him.Hitherto they had been denied access to the fire,and they now settled down in a close-drawn circle, like so many dogs,blinking and yawning and stretching their lean bodies in the unaccustomed warmth.Then the she-wolf sat down, pointed her nose at a star, and began to howl.One by one the wolves joined her, till the whole pack, on haunches, with noses pointed skyward, was howling its hunger cry.
Dawn came, and daylight. The fire was burning low. The fuel had run out,and there was need to get more. The man attempted to step out of his circle of flame,but the wolves surged to meet him. Burning brands made them spring aside,but they no longer sprang back. In vain he strove to drive them back.As he gave up and stumbled inside his circle, a wolf leaped for him, missed,and landed with all four feet in the coals. It cried out with terror, at the same time snarling,and scrambled back to cool its paws in the snow.
The man sat down on his blankets in a crouching position. His body leaned forward from the hips.His shoulders, relaxed and drooping, and his head on his knees advertised that he had given up the struggle.Now and again he raised his head to note the dying down of the fire.The circle of flame and coals was breaking into segments with openings in between.These openings grew in size, the segments diminished.
“I guess you can come an’ get me any time,” he mumbled. “Anyway, I’m goin’ to sleep.”
Once he awakened, and in an opening in the circle, directly in front of him, he saw the she-wolf gazing at him.
Again he awakened, a little later, though it seemed hours to him.A mysterious change had taken place—so mysterious a change that he was shocked wider awake.Something had happened. He could not understand at first. Then he discovered it.The wolves were gone. Remained only the trampled snow to show how closely they had pressed him.Sleep was welling up and gripping him again, his head was sinking down upon his knees, when he roused with a sudden start.
There were cries of men, and churn of sleds, the creaking of harnesses,and the eager whimpering of straining dogs.Four sleds pulled in from the river bed to the camp among the trees.Half a dozen men were about the man who crouched in the centre of the dying fire.They were shaking and prodding him into consciousness.He looked at them like a drunken man and maundered in strange, sleepy speech.
“Red she-wolf. . . . Come in with the dogs at feedin’ time. . . . First she ate the dog-food. . . .Then she ate the dogs. . . . An’ after that she ate Bill. . . . ”
“Where’s Lord Alfred?” one of the men bellowed in his ear, shaking him roughly.
He shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t eat him. . . . He’s roostin’ in a tree at the last camp.”
“Dead?” the man shouted.
“An’ in a box,” Henry answered. He jerked his shoulder petulantly away from the grip of his questioner.“Say, you lemme alone. . . . I’m jes’ plump tuckered out. . . . Goo’ night, everybody.”
His eyes fluttered and went shut. His chin fell forward on his chest.And even as they eased him down upon the blankets his snores were rising on the frosty air.
But there was another sound. Far and faint it was, in the remote distance,the cry of the hungry wolf-pack as it took the trail of other meat than the man it had just missed.
PART II
CHAPTER I THE BATTLE OF THE FANGS
It was the she-wolf who had first caught the sound of men’s voices and the whining of the sled-dogs;and it was the she-wolf who was first to spring away from the cornered man in his circle of dying flame.The pack had been loath to forego the kill it had hunted down, and it lingered for several minutes,making sure of the sounds, and then it, too, sprang away on the trail made by the she-wolf.
Running at the forefront of the pack was a large grey wolf—one of its several leaders.It was he who directed the pack’s course on the heels of the she-wolf.It was he who snarled warningly at the younger members of the pack or slashed at them with his fangs when they ambitiously tried to pass him.And it was he who increased the pace when he sighted the she-wolf, now trotting slowly across the snow.
She dropped in alongside by him, as though it were her appointed position,and took the pace of the pack. He did not snarl at her, nor show his teeth,when any leap of hers chanced to put her in advance of him. On the contrary,he seemed kindly disposed toward her—too kindly to suit her, for he was prone to run near to her,and when he ran too near it was she who snarled and showed her teeth.Nor was she above slashing his shoulder sharply on occasion. At such times he betrayed no anger.He merely sprang to the side and ran stiffly ahead for several awkward leaps,in carriage and conduct resembling an abashed country swain.
This was his one trouble in the running of the pack; but she had other troubles.On her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled and marked with the scars of many battles.He ran always on her right side. The fact that he had but one eye, and that the left eye,might account for this. He, also, was addicted to crowding her,to veering toward her till his scarred muzzle touched her body, or shoulder, or neck.As with the running mate on the left, she repelled these attentions with her teeth;but when both bestowed their attentions at the same time she was roughly jostled, being compelled,with quick snaps to either side, to drive both lovers away and at the same time to maintain her forward leap with the pack and see the way of her feet before her. At such times her running mates flashed their teeth and growled threateningly across at each other. They might have fought, but even wooing and its rivalry waited upon the more pressing hunger-need of the pack.
After each repulse, when the old wolf sheered abruptly away from the sharp-toothed object of his desire,he shouldered against a young three-year-old that ran on his blind right side.This young wolf had attained his full size; and,considering the weak and famished condition of the pack,he possessed more than the average vigour and spirit. Nevertheless,he ran with his head even with the shoulder of his one-eyed elder.When he ventured to run abreast of the older wolf (which was seldom),a snarl and a snap sent him back even with the shoulder again. Sometimes, however,he dropped cautiously and slowly behind and edged in between the old leader and the she-wolf.This was doubly resented, even triply resented. When she snarled her displeasure,the old leader would whirl on the three-year-old. Sometimes she whirled with him.And sometimes the young leader on the left whirled, too.
At such times, confronted by three sets of savage teeth, the young wolf stopped precipitately,throwing himself back on his haunches, with fore-legs stiff, mouth menacing, and mane bristling.This confusion in the front of the moving pack always caused confusion in the rear.The wolves behind collided with the young wolf and expressed their displeasure by administering sharp nips on his hind-legs and flanks.He was laying up trouble for himself, for lack of food and short tempers went together;but with the boundless faith of youth he persisted in repeating the manoeuvre every little while,though it never succeeded in gaining anything for him but discomfiture.
Had there been food, love-making and fighting would have gone on apace,and the pack-formation would have been broken up. But the situation of the pack was desperate.It was lean with long-standing hunger. It ran below its ordinary speed.At the rear limped the weak members, the very young and the very old.At the front were the strongest. Yet all were more like skeletons than full-bodied wolves.Nevertheless, with the exception of the ones that limped,the movements of the animals were effortless and tireless.Their stringy muscles seemed founts of inexhaustible energy.Behind every steel-like contraction of a muscle, lay another steel-like contraction, and another, and another, apparently without end.
They ran many miles that day. They ran through the night. And the next day found them still running.They were running over the surface of a world frozen and dead. No life stirred.They alone moved through the vast inertness. They alone were alive,and they sought for other things that were alive in order that they might devour them and continue to live.
They crossed low divides and ranged a dozen small streams in a lower-lying country before their quest was rewarded.Then they came upon moose. It was a big bull they first found. Here was meat and life,and it was guarded by no mysterious fires nor flying missiles of flame.Splay hoofs and palmated antlers they knew,and they flung their customary patience and caution to the wind. It was a brief fight and fierce.The big bull was beset on every side. He ripped them open or split their skulls with shrewdly driven blows of his great hoofs.He crushed them and broke them on his large horns.He stamped them into the snow under him in the wallowing struggle. But he was foredoomed,and he went down with the she-wolf tearing savagely at his throat,and with other teeth fixed everywhere upon him, devouring him alive,before ever his last struggles ceased or his last damage had been wrought.