than the others, and he unslung his rifle and fired
pointblank at it. There was a howl of pain. Then followed several fierce
yelps, and stealing forms crowded thick and fast upon the creature that
had bitten the dust.

With a thrill of strange dread Nick shouldered his burden again and
proceeded on his way. His steps were no longer steady, but hurried and
uncertain. In his haste he frequently stumbled, but he was strong, and
he had a haunting fear of what lay behind him, and so he put forth a
great effort.

The twilight deepened; black shadows were everywhere about him. Hills
rose before him, and valleys sank away at his feet. His fancy now saw
the forest crowded with prying eyes. Every tree-trunk became a figure
which stood pointing and whispering words of denunciation. And as he
beheld this ghostly army of shadows his heart quailed, and the look in
his eyes grew more and more fevered. He lurched on under the cold,
clammy body without thought of his way, with nervous dews upon his
forehead, and shaking limbs.

The wolves still followed. Their cries, vicious, eager, came to him, and
he knew that the meal he had provided was devoured, and they hungered
yet, and thirsted for the blood they scented upon the air. He sped on,
staggering, and his mind grew dizzy. But he knew that he had entered his
valley, and beyond lay the dugout which henceforth was his alone.

His intolerable burden had worn him down. He feared it as he feared the
dark shadows of the woods, and the stealing forms which trailed behind
him. He longed to throw that which he carried to the ground and run
headlong to the shelter of his home. But something held him. It was as
if his brother's corpse were endowed with life, a ghostly life, and that
it clung with tenacious grip to the back of the living. And the thought
grew in his aching brain that he was no longer free to do as he chose,
but was being driven by the Thing he carried. At the river he bent to
rid himself of the corpse. He purposed to rest ere he bore it up the
last hill, but the stiff arms had somehow embraced his neck and clung to
him. With a cry of terror he moved forward at a run. Hard on his heels
came the loud-voiced throng of timber-wolves.

At last, ahead, he heard the yelping of his own dogs. The noise brought
him a measure of relief, for the speeding shadows behind dropped back
into the woods, and their voices faded away into the distance.

But the corpse clung, and its weight drag