ul, 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 s