The first pale evening star twinkled in the east when the hunters made
camp on the shore of Artilery Lake. At dusk the clear, silent air
opened to the sound of a long, haunting mourn.

"Ho! Ho!" called Rea. His hoarse, deep voice rang defiance to the foe.

While he built a fire before the tepee, Jones strode up and down,
suddenly to whip out his knife and make for the tame little musk-oxen,
now digging the snow. Then he wheeled abruptly and held out the blade
to Rea.

"What for?" demanded the giant.

"We've got to eat," said Jones. "And I can't kill one of them. I can't,
so you do it."

"Kill one of our calves?" roared Rea. "Not till hell freezes over! I
ain't commenced to get hungry. Besides, the wolves are going to eat us,
calves and all."

Nothing more was said. They ate their last biscuit. Jones packed the
calves away in the tepee, and turned to the dogs. All day they had
worried him; something was amiss with them, and even as he went among
them a fierce fight broke out. Jones saw it was unusual, for the
attacked dogs showed craven fear, and the attacking ones a howling,
savage intensity that surprised him. Then one of the vicious brutes
rolled his eyes, frothed at the mouth, shuddered and leaped in his
harness, vented a hoarse howl and fell back shaking and retching.

"My God! Rea!" cried Jones in horror. "Come here! Look! That dog is
dying of rabies! Hydrophobia! The white wolves have hydrophobia!"

"If you ain't right!" exclaimed Rea. "I seen a dog die of thet onct,
an' he acted like this. An' thet one ain't all. Look, Buff! look at
them green eyes! Didn't I say the white wolves was hell? We'll have to
kill every dog we've got."

Jones shot the dog, and soon afterward three more that manifested signs
of the disease. It was an awful situation. To kill all the dogs meant
simply to sacrifice his life and Rea's; it meant abandoning hope of
ever reaching the cabin. Then to risk being bitten by one of the
poisoned, maddened brutes, to risk the most horrible of agonizing
deaths--that was even worse.

"Rea, we've one chance," cried Jones, with pale face. "Can you hold the
dogs, one by one, while muzzle them?"

"Ho! Ho!" replied the giant. Placing his bowie knife between his teeth,
with gloved hands he seized and dragged one of the dogs to the
campfire. The animal whined and protested, but showed no ill spirit.
Jones muzzled his jaws tightly with strong cords. Another and another
were tied up, then one which