Bonners Ferry herald. [volume] (Bonners Ferry, Idaho) 1904-current, 1917-11-20
CHAPTER lV.-Continued.

After that cry Kazan sat for a 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
hrst bought him and put him into
sledge-traces away over on the Macken-
zie, he had often thought of his free
dom longingly, 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 of 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 a
whip over his back. His body was COW
cred with scars they had given him.
He had never felt kindness, or love,
until the first night the woman had put
her warm little hand ON his head, and
had Struggled her face close down to
his, while Thorpe-her husband-had
cried out in horror. He had almost
buried his fangs in her white flesh, but
in an instant her gentle touch, and her
sweet voice, had sent through him that
wonderful thrill that was his first
knowledge of love. And now it was q
man who was driving him from her,
away from the hand that had never
held club or a whip, and he growled
as he trotted deeper into the forest.
He came to the edge of a swamp as
day broke. For a 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 compan-
ionship and food, and so far back as he
could remember they had always been
a part Of his life.
Here 1t was very quiet. The swamp
lay in a 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 the day was like twilight. 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 responsibility. 1t told
him that somewhere in this silent
world between the two ridges there
was companionship, and that all he
had to do to find it was TO sit back on
his launches. and cry out his loneli-
ness. More than once something trem-
bled in his deep chest, rose in his
throat, and ended there in 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 log, and killed 1t.
The warm flesh and blood was better
tAihh 1AOICh ISAif VI
and the feast he had gave him conf
denee. That afternoon he chased many
rabbits, and killed two more. Until
now, he had never known the delight of
pursuing and killing at will. even
though he did not eat all he killed.
But there was no fight in the rab-
bits. They died too easily. They were
very sweet and tender to eat, when he
was hungry. but the first thrill OF kill
ing them passed away after time. He
wanted something bigger. He no long
er skunk along as if he were afraid, or
as If he wanted to remain hidden. He
Leld his head up. His back bristled.
dis Sail swung free and bushy, like
vol e. Every hair in his body. ouiv-