in
me ribs o'good rid blood that takes relish now an' agin in a bit av a
foight. An', man or baste, Oi ain't particular, so 'tis a good wan.
Oi'll be goin' down th' thrail a piece an' see phwat's to see. Oi ain't
axin' ye to go 'long. Ye poor prayer-dhrivlin' haythen, wid yer limon
av a hear-rt ye've got a yallar shtripe that raches to th' length an'
width av ye. Ye'd be no good nohow.

"But 'tis mesilf ain't fearin' th' evil eye av th' werwolf--an' she is
called be the name av th' divil's own.

"But listen ye here, ye pea-soup Frinchy! Ye'll not go shnakin' off wid
thim harses. Ye'll bide here till Oi come back."

The other made a whimper of protest, but Irish Fallon reached out a
great hairy hand and shook him roughly.

"Yez moind now, an' Oi mane ut! Here ye shtay. An' av ye ain't here,
ye'd bether kape on goin'. F'r th' nixt toime Oi lay eyes on ye Oi'll
br-reak ye in two! An' don't ye fergit ut!"

The big Irishman turned and swung down the tote-road, the webs of his
rackets leaving a broad trail in the snow. LaFranz cowered upon the
snow-plow and sought refuge in craven prayer and curses the while he
shot frightened glances into the darkening forest.

He thought of cutting the horses loose and starting them for camp at a
run. But, much as he feared the werwolf, he feared Irish Fallon more;
for many were the tales of Fallon's man-fights when his "Irish was up."

* * * * *

When the white wolf sprang the man had nearly reached the snarling
pack. Before him, scarcely six feet away, lay his axe, the blade
smeared with blood and brains, to which clung stiff gray hairs.

Instinctively he ducked and, as the huge form flashed past, his right
arm shot out straight from the shoulder. The long, clean blade entered
just at the point of the brisket and, ranging upward, was buried to the
haft as the knife was torn from his grasp.

One step and the man's fingers closed about the helve of his axe, and
he whirled to meet the second onslaught.

But there was small need. The great brute stood still in her tracks
and, with lowered head, snapped and wrenched at the thing that bit into
her very lungs.

The stag-horn plates of the protruding hilt were splintered under the
clamp of the mighty jaws, and the long, gleaming teeth made deep dents
in the brass beneath. Her lips reddened, and before her the snow was
flecked with blood.

All this the man took in at a glance without consci