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 fr