bullets had made her a monstrous,
sexless thing, feared and unsought by mating males, hated of her own
breed.

And now, at the moment she had by the cunning of her generalship
delivered this man an easy prey to her followers, they deserted her and
fell in swinish greed upon the first meat at hand.

So that at the last she faced her enemy alone, and the smoldering fury
of her heart blazed green from her wicked eyes. She stood tense as a
pointer, every hair of her long white coat bristlingly aquiver.

Suddenly she threw back her head, pointed her sharp muzzle to the sky,
and gave voice to the long-drawn ululation which is the battle-cry of
wolves.

Yet it was not the wolf-cry, for long ago the malformation of a healing
throat-wound had distorted the bell-like cry into a hideous scream like
the shriek of a soul foredamned, which quavered loud and shrill upon
the keen air and ended in a series of quick jerks, like stabs of
horrible laughter.

And then, with tight-drawn lips and jaws agape, she hurled herself
straight at the throat of the stumbling man.

* * * * *

Darkness was gathering when, a mile to the northward, Jake LaFranz and
Irish Fallon, who were laboring with six big horses and a rough log
drag to break out the trail, suddenly paused to listen.

Through the thin, cold air rang a sound the like of which neither had
ever heard. And then, as if in echo, the long-drawn wail of the great
white wolf.

They stared at each other white-lipped; for that last cry was a thing
men talked about of nights with bated breath and deep curses. Neither
had heard it before--nor would either hear it again--but each
recognized the sound instinctively, as he would recognize the sound of
Gabriel's trump.

"It's _her_!" gasped LaFranz. "God save us! It's Diablesse--the
_loup-garou_!"

"'Tis none other--that last. But, man! Man! The first wan! Was it a
human cry or from the throat of another of her hell-begotten breed?"

Without waiting to reply the Frenchman swung the big six-team in their
tracks and headed them toward camp. But Irish Fallon reached for him as
he fumbled at the clevis.

"Howld on, ye frog-eater! Be a man! If 'twas human tore loose that yell
he'll be the bether fer help, notwithstandin' there was more av foight
nor fear in th' sound."

"No, no, no! It's _her_! It's Diablesse!" He crossed himself.

"Sure, an' ut is; bad cess to her altogether. But Oi got a hear-rt