come the rains and after the rains comes the spring go back before thou art driven who will drive me will drive go back to thy people go to man when drives i will go answered red dog there is no more to say said little brother thou raise me to my feet i also was a leader of the free people very carefully and gently lifted the bodies aside and raised to his feet both arms round him and the lone wolf drew a long breath and began the death song that a leader of the pack should sing when he dies it gathered strength as he went on lifting and lifting and ringing far across the river till it came to the last good hunting and shook himself clear of for an instant and leaping into the air fell backward dead upon his last and most terrible kill sat with the head on his knees careless of anything else while the remnant of the flying were being overtaken and run down by the merciless little by little the cries died away and the wolves returned as their wounds to take stock of the losses fifteen of the pack as well as half a dozen lay dead by the river and of the others not one was and sat through it all till the cold daybreak when s wet red was dropped in his hand and drew back to show the gaunt body of good hunting said as though o the second book were still alive and then over his bitten shoulder to the others howl dogs a wolf has died to night but of all the pack of two hundred fighting whose boast was that all were their and that no living thing could stand before them not one returned to the to carry that word song this is the song that sang as the dropped down one after another to the river bed when the great fight was finished is good friends with everybody but he is a cold blooded kind of creature at heart because he knows that almost everybody in the comes to him in the long run were my companions going forth by night � for look you for now come i to whistle them the ending of the fight of word they gave me overhead of newly slain word i gave them of buck upon the plain here s an end of every trail � they shall not speak again they that called the hunting cry � they that followed fast � for look you for the second book they that bade the wheel and pinned him as he passed � of chill they that behind the scent � they that ran before they that the level horn � they that here s an end of every trail � they shall not follow more these were my companions pity t was tliey died for chill look you for now come i to comfort them that knew them in their pride of tattered flank and sunken eye open mouth and red locked and and lone they lie the dead upon their dead here s an end of every trail � and here my hosts are fed the spring running man goes to man cry the challenge through the he that was our brother goes away hear now and judge o ye people of the � answer who shall turn him � who shall stay man goes to man he is weeping in the he that was our brother sorrows sore i man goes to man i oh we loved him in the to the man trail where we may not follow more the spring running he second year after the great fight with red dog and the death of must have been nearly seventeen years old he looked older for hard exercise the best of good eating and whenever he felt in the least hot or dusty had given him strength and growth far beyond his age he could swing by one hand from a top branch for half an hour at a time when he had occasion to look along the tree roads he could stop a young buck in mid the second book gallop and throw him sideways by the head he could even jerk over the big blue wild that lived in the of the north the people who used to fear him for his wits feared him now for his strength and when he moved quietly on his own affairs the mere whisper of his coming cleared the wood paths and yet the look in his eyes was always gentle even when he fought his eyes never blazed as s did they only grew more and more interested and excited and that was one of the things that himself did not understand he asked about it and the boy laughed and said when i miss the kill i am angry when i must go empty for two days i am very angry do not my eyes talk then the mouth is angry said but the eyes say nothing hunting eating or swimming it is all one � like a stone in wet or dry weather looked at him lazily from under his long and as usual the s head dropped knew his master they were lying out far up the side of a hill overlooking the and the morning mist hung below them in bands of white and green as the sun rose it changed into seas of red gold off and let the the spring running low rays the dried grass on which and were resting it was the end of the cold weather the leaves and the trees looked worn and faded and there was a dry rustle everywhere when the wind blew a little leaf tap tap tapped furiously against a as a single leaf caught in a current will it roused for he the morning air 