It was a clear night in March. The moon was high. From the rear of Jim
Grimm's isolated cottage the white waste stretched far to the
wilderness. The dogs of the pack were sound asleep in the outhouse. An
hour ago the mournful howling had ceased for the night. Half-way to
the fish-stage, whither he was bound on his father's errand, Jimmie
Grimm came to a startled full stop.

"What was that?" he mused.

[Illustration: _Courtesy of "The Outing Magazine"_
INSTINCTIVELY, HE COVERED HIS THROAT WITH HIS ARMS WHEN
TOG FELL UPON HIM.]

A dark object, long and lithe, had seemed to slip like a shadow into
hiding below the drying flake. Jimmie continued to muse. What had it
been? A prowling dog? Then he laughed a little at his own fears--and
continued on his way. But he kept watch on the flake; and so intent
was he upon this, so busily was he wondering whether or not his eyes
had tricked him, that he stumbled over a stray billet of wood, and
fell sprawling.

He was not alarmed, and made no haste to rise; but had he then seen
what emerged from the shadow of the flake he would instantly have been
in screaming flight toward the kitchen door.

The onslaught of Tog and the two wolves was made silently.

There was not a howl, not a growl, not even an eager snarl. They came
leaping, with Tog in the lead--and they came silently. Jimmie caught
sight of them when he was half-way to his feet. He had but time to
call his father's name; and he knew that the cry would not be heard.
Instinctively, he covered his throat with his arms when Tog fell upon
him; and he was relieved to feel Tog's teeth in his shoulder. He felt
no pain--not any more, at any rate, than a sharp stab in the knee. He
was merely sensible of the fact that the vital part had not yet been
reached.

In the savage joy of attack, Jimmie's assailants forgot discretion.
Snarls and growls escaped them while they worried the small body. In
the manner of wolves, too, they snapped at each other. The dogs in the
outhouse awoke, cocked their ears, came in a frenzy to the conflict;
not to save Jimmie Grimm, but to participate in his destruction.
Jimmie was prostrate beneath them all--still protecting his throat;
not regarding his other parts.

And by this confusion Jim Grimm was aroused from a sleepy stupor by
the kitchen fire.

"I wonder," said he, "what's the matter with them dogs."

"I'm not able t' make out," his wife replied, puzzled, "but----"

"Hark!" cried Jim.

The