2. CHAPTER II - THE SHE-WOLF
"Must be a tame wolf, I reckon."
"It's damned tame, whatever it is, comin' in here at feedin' time
an' gettin' its whack of fish."
That night, when supper was finished and they sat on the oblong box
and pulled at their pipes, the circle of gleaming eyes drew in even
closer than before.
"I wisht they'd spring up a bunch of moose or something, an' go
away an' leave us alone," Bill said.
Henry grunted with an intonation that was not all sympathy, and for
a quarter of an hour they sat on in silence, Henry staring at the
fire, and Bill at the circle of eyes that burned in the darkness
just beyond the firelight.
"I wisht we was pullin' into McGurry right now," he began again.
"Shut up your wishin' and your croakin'," Henry burst out angrily.
"Your stomach's sour. That's what's ailin' you. Swallow a
spoonful of sody, an' you'll sweeten up wonderful an' be more
In the morning Henry was aroused by fervid blasphemy that proceeded
from the mouth of Bill. Henry propped himself up on an elbow and
looked to see his comrade standing among the dogs beside the
replenished fire, his arms raised in objurgation, his face
distorted with passion.
"Hello!" Henry called. "What's up now?"
"Frog's gone," came the answer.
"I tell you yes."
Henry leaped out of the blankets and to the dogs. He counted them
with care, and then joined his partner in cursing the power of the
Wild that had robbed them of another dog.
"Frog was the strongest dog of the bunch," Bill pronounced finally.