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