Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1916-01-01

| TO him what all men meant to him now:
The club, the whip and the strange
| things that spat fire and death And
| now
Thorpe had come out from the tent.
| II was approaching dawn, and in his
hand he held rifle. A moment later the
girl came out, and her hand caught the
| mans arm They looked toward the
thing covered by the blanket
Then she spoke to Thorpe and he sud
denly Strengthened and threw back his
head.
"H-o-o-o-o- Kazan- Kazan- Kazany'
| he called.
shiver ran through Kasan. The man
| was trying to inveigle him back. He had
in his hand the thing that killed.
| "kazan - Kazan - Ka-a-a-a-zanl" he
| shouted again.
Kazan sneaked cautiously back from
the tree. He knew that distance meant
nothing to the cold thing of death that
Thorpe held in his hand He turned his
head once, and whined softly, and for
an instant a great longing filled his red
dened eyes as he saw the last of the girl.
He knew now that he was leaving her
forever, and there was an ache In his
heart that had never been there before, n
pain that was not of the club or whip
of cold or hunger but which was greater
than them all, and which filled him with
desire to throw back his head and cry
out his loneliness to the gray emptiness
of the sky
Back in the camp the girls voice qulv-
cred.
HE is gone"
The mans strong voice choked little.
Yes, he is gone. He knew-and /
didn't I'd give-a year of my llfe-if
hadn't whipped him yesterday and last
night. He won't come back"
Isobel Thorpe's hand frightened on his
arm.
"He willr' she cried. "He won't leave
me. He loved me, If he was savage and
terrible. And he knows that | love him.
He'll come back"
"Listen!"
From deep in the forest there came a
long wailing howl, filed with plalntive
sadness 1t was Kazan's farewell to the
woman.
After that cry Kazan sat for n long
time on his launches, shifting the new
freedom of the air and watching the deep
black pits in the forest about him as
they faded away before dawn. Now and
then since the day the traders had first
bought him and put him into sledge
traces away over on the Mackenzie, he
had often thought of his freedom long
ingly, the wolf blood In him urging him
to take It, But he had never quite dared
1t thrilled him now. There were no clubs
here, no whips none of the man beasts
whom he had first learned to distrust and
then to hate.
1t was his misfortune-that quarter
strain wolf; and the clubs, instead OF
subduing him. had added to the savagery
that was born In him. Men had been his
worst enemies They had beaten him
time and again until he was almost dead.
They called him bad and stepped wide
of him. and never missed the chance TO
snap whip over his back. His body was
covered with scars they had given him.
He had never felt kindness, or love, IN
4 nj trrhf thO ttvnfr lpl
warm little hand on his head and had
snuggled her face close down to his.
while Thorpe-her husband-had cried cut
In horror. He had almost buried his
fangs In her white flesh, but In an in
stant her gentle toucn and her sweet
voice had sent through him that wonder
ful thrill that was his first knowledge 81
love. And now IL was u man who was
driving him from her. away from the
hand that had never held club or Il
whip, and he growled as he trotted deeper
into the forest.
He came to the edge of a swamp as
day broke. For time he had been filled
with strange uneasiness. and light did
not quite dispel 1t. At last he was free
of men. He could detect nothing that
reminded him of their hated presence in
the air. But neither could he smell the
presence of other dogs, of the sledge, the
fire. of companionship and food, and so
far back as he could remember they had
always been part of his life.
Here 1t was very quiet. The swamp lay
in hollow between two ridge-mountains,
and the spruce and cedar grew low and
thick-so thick that there was almost no
snow under them, and day was like twi- |
light. Two things he began to miss more
than all others-food and company. Both |
the wolf and the dog that was In him de-
manded the first and that part of him |
that was dog longed for the latter. To
both desires the wolf blood that was |
strong IN him rose responsively. 1t told |
him that somewhere In this silent world |
between the two ridges there was com |
panionship. and that all he had to do to |
find 1t was to sit back on his launches |
and cry out his loneliness. More than |
once something trembled In his deep chest, |
rose in his throat and ended there i'm a |
whine. 1t was the wolf howl, not yet |
quite born.
Food came more easily than voice. |
Toward midday he cornered a big white |
rabbit under a log, and killed it. The |
warm flesh and blood was better than
frozen fish. or tallow and bran, and the |
feast he had gave him confidence. That |
afternoon he chased many rabbits. and /
killed two more. Until now, he had never
known the delight of pursu.. and killing
at will. even though he did vt eat all
he killed.
But there was no fight in he rabbits.
They died too easily. They were very
sweet and tender to eat, when he was
hungry, but the first thrill of killing them
passed away after a time. He wanted
bigger. He no longer skunk
along as if he were afraid, or as IL he
to remain hidden. He held his
head up. His back bristled. His tail
swung free and bushy. like a VOLTS.
Every hair in his body quivered with the
electric energy of life and action. He
travelled north and west. 1t was the call
Of early days-the days away up on
the Mackenzie The Mackenzie was a
thousand miles away.
He came upon many trails in the snow
that day, and shifted he scents left by
the hoofs of moose and caribou. and the
fur padded feet Of lynx. He followed !
fox, and the trail led him to a place
shut In by tall spruce, where the snow
was beaten down and reddened with
blood. There was an owls head, feathers,
wings and entrails lying here. and he
knew that there were other hunters
abroad besides himself.
Toward evening he came upon tracks
N the snow that We're very much like
ais own. They were quite fresh and
here was a warm scent about them that
made him whine, and filled him again
With tnat desire to fall back upon his
and send forth the wolf-ery.
This desire grew stronger in him as the
shadows OF night deepened in the forest.
Ja had Travelled all day hut he was NOT