But Nepeese had spent three winters at the missioner's school at Nelson
House. She had learned a great deal about white people and the real
God, and she knew that Pierrot's idea was impossible. She believed that
her mother's husky was either dead or had joined the wolves. Probably
he had gone to the wolves. So--was it not possible that this youngster
she and her father had pursued was of the flesh and blood of her
mother's pet? It was more than possible. The white star on his breast,
the white-tipped ear--the fact that he had not bitten her when he might
easily have buried his fangs in the soft flesh of her arms! She was
convinced. While Pierrot skinned the bear, she began hunting for Baree.

Baree had not moved an inch from under his rock. He lay like a thing
stunned, his eyes fixed steadily on the scene of the tragedy out in the
meadow. He had seen something that he would never forget--even as he
would never quite forget his mother and Kazan and the old windfall. He
had witnessed the death of the creature he had thought all-powerful.
Wakayoo, the big bear, had not even put up a fight. Pierrot and Nepeese
had killed him WITHOUT TOUCHING HIM. Now Pierrot was cutting him with a
knife which shot silvery flashes in the sun; and Wakayoo made no
movement. It made Baree shiver, and he drew himself an inch farther
back under the rock, where he was already wedged as if he had been
shoved there by a strong hand.

He could see Nepeese. She came straight back to the break through which
his flight had taken him, and stood at last not more than twenty feet
from where he was hidden. Now that she stood where he could not escape,
she began weaving her shining hair into two thick braids. Baree had
taken his eyes from Pierrot, and he watched her curiously. He was not
afraid now. His nerves tingled. In him a strange and growing force was
struggling to solve a great mystery--the reason for his desire to creep
out from under his rock and approach that wonderful creature with the
shining eyes and the beautiful hair.

Baree wanted to approach. It was like an invisible string tugging at
his very heart. It was Kazan, and not Gray Wolf, calling to him back
through the centuries, a "call" that was as old as the Egyptian
pyramids and perhaps ten thousand years older. But against that desire
Gray Wolf was pulling from out the black ages of the forests. The wolf
held him quiet and motionless. Nepeese was looking about her. She was
smiling. For a m