re-assuring. Dusty
Star had the uncomfortable feeling that the pack were merely waiting for
some signal, which, whenever it was given, would be an order to attack.
In such a case he knew he must leave Kiopo to take whatever course was
wisest. They were in the wolf-world now. The law of the man-world did
not hold. The part that was so strangely wolf within him, knew that it
must submit to the law of the pack, or pay the penalty of death. He
watched Kiopo anxiously. Whatever Kiopo did within the next few moments
would decide their fate. The silence grew terrible in its stillness.
After their first restless movements the wolves were motionless, waiting
for the sign.

It was then that Kiopo acted on the sudden impulse of an instinct that
told him what to do. Very slowly and deliberately he made his way
through the ring of wolves towards the place where the white wolf sat.

As his great body detached itself from the ring, and emerged to full
view into the open space, the waiting wolves realized at once that they
had before them a born leader, one of the Great Ones of the packs.
Hitherto, the big white wolf had had no rival. His sway was recognized
over a range of wide extent to the north-west. None had ever dared to
dispute his overlordship. Far and near his fame had travelled as the
white wolf-king of the north.

Yet here was an animal, who, in point of mere size stood even higher at
the shoulders than the white giant. A hundred pairs of gleaming eyes
glared at the intruder with a hostile light.

With his own eyes shining, and every hair on his body bristling, so as
to make him seem even larger than he was, Kiopo advanced steadily
towards the leader. The White wolf rose from his haunches, growling low.
He, too, bristled, as if in resentment at the intrusion. With a common
impulse, the pack edged nearer, waiting expectantly for the coming
fight.

Dusty Star, meanwhile, remained where he was on the outer circle of the
ring, motionless as a stone, for he had received a sign from Kiopo,
warning him to stay behind.

Fear clutched at his heart, and made his pulses throb, but it was not
fear for himself. The dread was for Kiopo, lest he should do something
rash. In single combat he was not afraid of the result, even with the
white wolf for an adversary. But with the pack in their present temper,
Dusty Star knew that a single fight would not long be possible. With the
fine sense that felt the wolfish mind about him, he knew