er as the hunger-crazed outlaw of the
plains followed over the rich-scented trail made by the two Indians as
they carried the slaughtered deer. Soon he nosed one of the trails of
blood, and a moment later the watchers saw a gaunt shadow form running
swiftly over the snow toward Wolf.

For an instant, as the two beasts of prey met, there fell a silence;
then both animals joined in the wailing hunt-pack cry, and the wolf that
was free came to the edge of the great rock and stood with his fore feet
on its side, and his cry changed from that of the chase to the still
more thrilling signal that told the gathering pack of game at bay.

Swiftly the wolves closed in. From over the edge of the mountain one
came and joined the wolf at the rock without the hunters seeing his
approach. From out of the swamp there came a pack of three, and now
about the rock there grew a maddened, yelping horde, clambering and
scrambling and fighting in their efforts to climb up to the game that
was so near and yet beyond their reach. And sixty feet away Wolf
crouched, watching the gathering of his clan, helpless, panting from his
choking efforts to free himself, and quieting, gradually quieting, until
in sullen silence he looked upon the scene, as though he knew the moment
was very near when that thrilling spectacle would be changed into a
scene of direst tragedy.

And it was Mukoki who had first said that this was the vengeance of Wolf
upon his people.

From Mukoki there now came a faint hissing warning, and Wabi threw his
rifle to his shoulder. There were at least a score of wolves at the base
of the rock. Gradually the old Indian pulled upon the babeesh rope that
led to the dead buck--pulled until he was putting a half of his strength
into the effort, and could feel the animal slowly slipping from the flat
ledge. A moment more and the buck tumbled down in the midst of the
waiting pack.

As flies gather upon a lump of sugar the famished animals now crowded
and crushed and fought over the deer's body, and as they came thus
together there sounded the quick sharp signal to fire from Mukoki.

For five seconds the edge of the spruce was a blaze of death-dealing
flashes, and the deafening reports of the two rifles and the big Colt
drowned the cries and struggles of the animals. When those five seconds
were over fifteen shots had been fired, and five seconds later the vast,
beautiful silence of the wilderness night had fallen again. About the
roc