The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1926-06-25
| BAREE, Son of Kazan
/ By JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD
bhy o.
&c. Doubleday. Page & COY

It was then that she stood straight,
and flung back her head, with eyes
that glowed in rivalry with the stars.
Barrel" she called. "Baree! Ba-
rec! Baree!"
He must have been near the edge OF
the forest, for she had drawn a slow,
waiting breath or two before he was
back at her side But he had come,
straight as an arrow, and he whined
up into her face. Nepeese put her
hands to his head.
"You are right, mon pere," she said.
"He will go to the wolves, but he will
come back. He will never leave me
for long" With one hand still on Ba-
reefs head, she pointed with the other
into the pitlike blackness of the forest.
go to them, Baree." she whispered.
But you must come back. You must
| Cheamao!"
With Pierrot she went into the
cabin; the door closed behind them,
and Baree was alone. A choking
gathered in his throat. He threw up
his head. Straight above him was the
Red Moon, inviting him to the thrill
and mystery of the open world. The
sound grew in his throat, and slowly
it rose in volume until his answer was
rising to the stars. In their cabin
Pierrot and the Willow heard it. Pier
rot shrugged his shoulders.
"He Is gone" he said.
"Oui, he is gone, mon PEREZ" replied
/ Nepeese, peering through the window.
No longer, as in the days of old, did
the darkness of the forests hold fear
for Baree. This night his hunt-cry
| had risen to the stars and the moon.
and in that cry he had for the first
time sent forth his defiance Of night
and his acceptance of the Brother
hood. In that cry, and the answers
that came back to him, he sensed new
| power-the final triumph Of nature In
| impinging on him the fact that the
forests and the creatures they held
were no longer to be feared, but that
all things feared him. OF there, be-
yond the pale of the cabin and the in
| f1uence of Nepeese, were all the things
that the wOlf-blood in him found now
most desirable: companionship of his
kind, the lure Of adventure, the red.
sweet blood of the chase-and mate
hood. This last, after all, was the
dominant mystery that was urging
him, and yet least of all did he under
stand it.
He ran straight into the~ darkness
to the north and west, sinking low un-
der the bushes, his tail dropping, his
ears aslant-the wolf as the wolf runs
on the night trail. The pack had
swung due north, and was travelling
faster than he, so that at the end OF
half an hour he could no longer hear
1t. But the lone wolf-howl to the west
was nearer, and three times Baree
gave answer to It.
At the end of an hour he heard the
pack again, swinging southwark. Pier
rot would easily have understood.
Their quarry had found safety beyond
water, or In a lake, and the muhekuns
were on a fresh trail. BY this time
not more than a quarter of mile of
the forest separated Baree from the
lone wolf, but the lone wolf was also
an old wolf, and with the directness
and precision Of long experience, he
swerved in the direction Of the hunt
ers, comprising his trail so that he
was leading for point half or three
quarters Of mile In advance Of the
pack.
This was q trick of the brotherhood
which Baree had yet to learn and the
result of his ignorance, and lack Of
skill, was that twice within the next
half-hour he found himself near the
pack without being able to join 1t.
Then came long and final silence.
The pack had pulled down its kill,
and In their feasting they made no
sound.
The rest of the night Baree wan.
| dered alone, or at least until the
moon was well on the wane. He was
long way from the cabin, and his
trail had been an uncertain and twist.
ing one, but he was no longer pos
sessed with the discomforting sensa.
ton of being lost. The last two or
three months had been developing
strongly in him the sense of orienta.
ton, that sixth sense" which guides
the pigeon unerringly on its way and
takes bear straight as bird might
! fly to its last years denning place.
(To BE CONTINUED.)