hich seemed to come from a point not far off in the
prairie. Listening intently, he was sure that Kiopo was calling him, and
that, for some reason or other, he would not enter the camp.

He rose softly from his couch, so as not to disturb his parents, and
went out upon the prairie. He expected every minute to find Kiopo at his
side; but Kiopo's voice, like a will-o-the-wisp, was always on ahead,
leading him further and further away.

At last he came to the foot of Look-out-Bluff and, in the dim light of
the dawn, saw Kiopo standing before him. After a rapid licking of the
Little Brother's hand, Kiopo turned at once and began to ascend the
bluff. Dusty Star followed him without hesitation.

After they had reached the summit, Kiopo sat down and gave three, short
howling barks. They were answered immediately from a spot to the north.
Then there was silence, while he and Dusty Star waited.

Presently, a large white wolf appeared over the top of the bluff. He was
followed by a line of wolves. In the twilight the line appeared endless.
And still they came. It seemed as if, for leagues around, the entire
prairie was giving up its wolves.

Dusty Star and Kiopo stood in the centre, with the White Wolf a little
to one side. Here and there a wolf would sit or lie down, and begin to
lick or scratch his coat, but for the most part the animals remained
standing, their heads turned towards the group in the centre, as if
waiting for some sign.

For a considerable time nothing happened. In the windless air, the deep
stillness of the dawn seemed to surround the bluff with a ring of
silence, cutting it off from the rest of the earth. Within that ring,
Dusty Star felt himself in a world, in which, every moment, the
wolfishness of things grew more enormous, excluding everything besides.
As never before, he felt the soul that was in him answer to the wolves.

He knew not why he was here. The wolves were claiming him. They were
waiting for something which had not yet happened. When it happened, they
would take him with them across the prairies into that tremendous
endlessness of the West; to the places beyond the sunset, where the
black lakes glimmer to the wolf-trail of the stars. And he knew also,
that, if he went, he would not come back; for the moccasins that follow
the wolves far enough, find at last the wolf-trail that is worn across
the heavens, and never more return.

All at once, the White Wolf got up and advanced slowly towa