The Son of the Wolf Read online

  The Son of the Wolf

  Man rarely places a proper valuation upon his womankind, at least notuntil deprived of them. He has no conception of the subtle atmosphereexhaled by the sex feminine, so long as he bathes in it; but let it bewithdrawn, and an ever-growing void begins to manifest itself in hisexistence, and he becomes hungry, in a vague sort of way, for asomething so indefinite that he cannot characterize it. If his comradeshave no more experience than himself, they will shake their headsdubiously and dose him with strong physic. But the hunger will continueand become stronger; he will lose interest in the things of hiseveryday life and wax morbid; and one day, when the emptiness hasbecome unbearable, a revelation will dawn upon him.

  In the Yukon country, when this comes to pass, the man usuallyprovisions a poling boat, if it is summer, and if winter, harnesses hisdogs, and heads for the Southland. A few months later, supposing him tobe possessed of a faith in the country, he returns with a wife to sharewith him in that faith, and incidentally in his hardships. This butserves to show the innate selfishness of man. It also brings us to thetrouble of 'Scruff' Mackenzie, which occurred in the old days, beforethe country was stampeded and staked by a tidal-wave of theche-cha-quas, and when the Klondike's only claim to notice was itssalmon fisheries.

  'Scruff' Mackenzie bore the earmarks of a frontier birth and a frontierlife.

  His face was stamped with twenty-five years of incessant struggle withNature in her wildest moods,--the last two, the wildest and hardest ofall, having been spent in groping for the gold which lies in the shadowof the Arctic Circle. When the yearning sickness came upon him, he wasnot surprised, for he was a practical man and had seen other men thusstricken. But he showed no sign of his malady, save that he workedharder. All summer he fought mosquitoes and washed the sure-thing barsof the Stuart River for a double grubstake. Then he floated a raft ofhouselogs down the Yukon to Forty Mile, and put together as comfortablea cabin as any the camp could boast of. In fact, it showed such cozypromise that many men elected to be his partner and to come and livewith him. But he crushed their aspirations with rough speech, peculiarfor its strength and brevity, and bought a double supply of grub fromthe trading-post.

  As has been noted, 'Scruff' Mackenzie was a practical man. If he wanteda thing he usually got it, but in doing so, went no farther out of hisway than was necessary. Though a son of toil and hardship, he wasaverse to a journey of six hundred miles on the ice, a second of twothousand miles on the ocean, and still a third thousand miles or so tohis last stamping-grounds,--all in the mere quest of a wife. Life wastoo short. So he rounded up his dogs, lashed a curious freight to hissled, and faced across the divide whose westward slopes were drained bythe head-reaches of the Tanana.

  He was a sturdy traveler, and his wolf-dogs could work harder andtravel farther on less grub than any other team in the Yukon. Threeweeks later he strode into a hunting-camp of the Upper Tanana Sticks.They marveled at his temerity; for they had a bad name and had beenknown to kill white men for as trifling a thing as a sharp ax or abroken rifle.

  But he went among them single-handed, his bearing being a deliciouscomposite of humility, familiarity, sang-froid, and insolence. Itrequired a deft hand and deep knowledge of the barbaric mindeffectually to handle such diverse weapons; but he was a past-master inthe art, knowing when to conciliate and when to threaten with Jove-likewrath.

  He first made obeisance to the Chief Thling-Tinneh, presenting him witha couple of pounds of black tea and tobacco, and thereby winning hismost cordial regard. Then he mingled with the men and maidens, and thatnight gave a potlach.

  The snow was beaten down in the form of an oblong, perhaps a hundredfeet in length and quarter as many across. Down the center a long firewas built, while either side was carpeted with spruce boughs. Thelodges were forsaken, and the fivescore or so members of the tribe gavetongue to their folk-chants in honor of their guest.

  'Scruff' Mackenzie's two years had taught him the not many hundredwords of their vocabulary, and he had likewise conquered their deepgutturals, their Japanese idioms, constructions, and honorific andagglutinative particles. So he made oration after their manner,satisfying their instinctive poetry-love with crude flights ofeloquence and metaphorical contortions. After Thling-Tinneh and theShaman had responded in kind, he made trifling presents to the menfolk,joined in their singing, and proved an expert in their fifty-two-stickgambling game.

  And they smoked his tobacco and were pleased. But among the younger menthere was a defiant attitude, a spirit of braggadocio, easilyunderstood by the raw insinuations of the toothless squaws and thegiggling of the maidens. They had known few white men, 'Sons of theWolf,' but from those few they had learned strange lessons.

  Nor had 'Scruff' Mackenzie, for all his seeming carelessness, failed tonote these phenomena. In truth, rolled in his sleeping-furs, he thoughtit all over, thought seriously, and emptied many pipes in mapping out acampaign. One maiden only had caught his fancy,--none other thanZarinska, daughter to the chief. In features, form, and poise,answering more nearly to the white man's type of beauty, she was almostan anomaly among her tribal sisters. He would possess her, make her hiswife, and name her--ah, he would name her Gertrude! Having thusdecided, he rolled over on his side and dropped off to sleep, a trueson of his all-conquering race, a Samson among the Philistines.

  It was slow work and a stiff game; but 'Scruff' Mackenzie maneuveredcunningly, with an unconcern which served to puzzle the Sticks. He tookgreat care to impress the men that he was a sure shot and a mightyhunter, and the camp rang with his plaudits when he brought down amoose at six hundred yards. Of a night he visited in ChiefThling-Tinneh's lodge of moose and cariboo skins, talking big anddispensing tobacco with a lavish hand. Nor did he fail to likewisehonor the Shaman; for he realized the medicine-man's influence with hispeople, and was anxious to make of him an ally. But that worthy washigh and mighty, refused to be propitiated, and was unerringly markeddown as a prospective enemy.

  Though no opening presented for an interview with Zarinska, Mackenziestole many a glance to her, giving fair warning of his intent. And wellshe knew, yet coquettishly surrounded herself with a ring of womenwhenever the men were away and he had a chance. But he was in no hurry;besides, he knew she could not help but think of him, and a few days ofsuch thought would only better his suit.

  At last, one night, when he deemed the time to be ripe, he abruptlyleft the chief's smoky dwelling and hastened to a neighboring lodge. Asusual, she sat with squaws and maidens about her, all engaged in sewingmoccasins and beadwork. They laughed at his entrance, and badinage,which linked Zarinska to him, ran high. But one after the other theywere unceremoniously bundled into the outer snow, whence they hurriedto spread the tale through all the camp.

  His cause was well pleaded, in her tongue, for she did not know his,and at the end of two hours he rose to go.

  'So Zarinska will come to the White Man's lodge? Good! I go now to havetalk with thy father, for he may not be so minded. And I will give himmany tokens; but he must not ask too much. If he say no? Good! Zarinskashall yet come to the White Man's lodge.'

  He had already lifted the skin flap to depart, when a low exclamationbrought him back to the girl's side. She brought herself to her kneeson the bearskin mat, her face aglow with true Eve-light, and shylyunbuckled his heavy belt. He looked down, perplexed, suspicious, hisears alert for the slightest sound without.

  But her next move disarmed his doubt, and he smiled with pleasure. Shetook from her sewing bag a moosehide sheath, brave with brightbeadwork, fantastically designed. She drew his great hunting-knife,gazed reverently along the keen edge, half tempted to try it with herthumb, and shot it into place in its new home. Then she slipped thesheath along the belt to its customary resting-place, just above thehip. For all the world, it was like a scene of olden time,--a lady andher knight.

  Mackenzie drew her up full height and swept her red lips with hismoustache, the, to her, foreign caress of the Wolf. It was a meeting ofthe stone a
ge and the steel; but she was none the less a woman, as hercrimson cheeks and the luminous softness of her eyes attested.

  There was a thrill of excitement in the air as 'Scruff' Mackenzie, abulky bundle under his arm, threw open the flap of Thling-Tinneh'stent. Children were running about in the open, dragging dry wood to thescene of the potlach, a babble of women's voices was growing inintensity, the young men were consulting in sullen groups, while fromthe Shaman's lodge rose the eerie sounds of an incantation.

  The chief was alone with his blear-eyed wife, but a glance sufficed totell Mackenzie that the news was already told. So he plunged at onceinto the business, shifting the beaded sheath prominently to the foreas advertisement of the betrothal.

  'O Thling-Tinneh, mighty chief of the Sticks And the land of theTanana, ruler of the salmon and the bear, the moose and the cariboo!The White Man is before thee with a great purpose. Many moons has hislodge been empty, and he is lonely. And his heart has eaten itself insilence, and grown hungry for a woman to sit beside him in his lodge,to meet him from the hunt with warm fire and good food. He has heardstrange things, the patter of baby moccasins and the sound ofchildren's voices. And one night a vision came upon him, and he beheldthe Raven, who is thy father, the great Raven, who is the father of allthe Sticks. And the Raven spake to the lonely White Man, saying: "Bindthou thy moccasins upon thee, and gird thy snow-shoes on, and lash thysled with food for many sleeps and fine tokens for the ChiefThling-Tinneh. For thou shalt turn thy face to where the mid-spring sunis wont to sink below the land and journey to this great chief'shunting-grounds. There thou shalt make big presents, and Thling-Tinneh,who is my son, shall become to thee as a father. In his lodge there isa maiden into whom I breathed the breath of life for thee. This maidenshalt thou take to wife." 'O Chief, thus spake the great Raven; thus doI lay many presents at thy feet; thus am I come to take thy daughter!'The old man drew his furs about him with crude consciousness ofroyalty, but delayed reply while a youngster crept in, delivered aquick message to appear before the council, and was gone.

  'O White Man, whom we have named Moose-Killer, also known as the Wolf,and the Son of the Wolf! We know thou comest of a mighty race; we areproud to have thee our potlach-guest; but the king-salmon does not matewith the dogsalmon, nor the Raven with the Wolf.' 'Not so!' criedMackenzie. 'The daughters of the Raven have I met in the camps of theWolf,--the squaw of Mortimer, the squaw of Tregidgo, the squaw ofBarnaby, who came two ice-runs back, and I have heard of other squaws,though my eyes beheld them not.' 'Son, your words are true; but it wereevil mating, like the water with the sand, like the snow-flake with thesun. But met you one Mason and his squaw' No?

  He came ten ice-runs ago,--the first of all the Wolves. And with himthere was a mighty man, straight as a willow-shoot, and tall; strong asthe bald-faced grizzly, with a heart like the full summer moon; his-''Oh!' interrupted Mackenzie, recognizing the well-known Northlandfigure, 'Malemute Kid!' 'The same,--a mighty man. But saw you aught ofthe squaw? She was full sister to Zarinska.' 'Nay, Chief; but I haveheard. Mason--far, far to the north, a spruce-tree, heavy with years,crushed out his life beneath. But his love was great, and he had muchgold. With this, and her boy, she journeyed countless sleeps toward thewinter's noonday sun, and there she yet lives,--no biting frost, nosnow, no summer's midnight sun, no winter's noonday night.'

  A second messenger interrupted with imperative summons from the council.

  As Mackenzie threw him into the snow, he caught a glimpse of theswaying forms before the council-fire, heard the deep basses of the menin rhythmic chant, and knew the Shaman was fanning the anger of hispeople. Time pressed. He turned upon the chief.

  'Come! I wish thy child. And now, see! Here are tobacco, tea, many cupsof sugar, warm blankets, handkerchiefs, both good and large; and here,a true rifle, with many bullets and much powder.' 'Nay,' replied theold man, struggling against the great wealth spread before him. 'Evennow are my people come together. They will not have this marriage.'

  'But thou art chief.' 'Yet do my young men rage because the Wolves havetaken their maidens so that they may not marry.' 'Listen, OThling-Tinneh! Ere the night has passed into the day, the Wolf shallface his dogs to the Mountains of the East and fare forth to theCountry of the Yukon. And Zarinska shall break trail for his dogs.''And ere the night has gained its middle, my young men may fling to thedogs the flesh of the Wolf, and his bones be scattered in the snow tillthe springtime lay them bare.' It was threat and counter-threat.Mackenzie's bronzed face flushed darkly. He raised his voice. The oldsquaw, who till now had sat an impassive spectator, made to creep byhim for the door.

  The song of the men broke suddenly and there was a hubbub of manyvoices as he whirled the old woman roughly to her couch of skins.

  'Again I cry--listen, O Thling-Tinneh! The Wolf dies with teethfast-locked, and with him there shall sleep ten of thy strongestmen,--men who are needed, for the hunting is not begun, and the fishingis not many moons away. And again, of what profit should I die? I knowthe custom of thy people; thy share of my wealth shall be very small.Grant me thy child, and it shall all be thine. And yet again, mybrothers will come, and they are many, and their maws are never filled;and the daughters of the Raven shall bear children in the lodges of theWolf. My people are greater than thy people. It is destiny. Grant, andall this wealth is thine.' Moccasins were crunching the snow without.Mackenzie threw his rifle to cock, and loosened the twin Colts in hisbelt.

  'Grant, O Chief!' 'And yet will my people say no.' 'Grant, and thewealth is thine. Then shall I deal with thy people after.' 'The Wolfwill have it so. I will take his tokens,--but I would warn him.'Mackenzie passed over the goods, taking care to clog the rifle'sejector, and capping the bargain with a kaleidoscopic silk kerchief.The Shaman and half a dozen young braves entered, but he shoulderedboldly among them and passed out.

  'Pack!' was his laconic greeting to Zarinska as he passed her lodge andhurried to harness his dogs. A few minutes later he swept into thecouncil at the head of the team, the woman by his side. He took hisplace at the upper end of the oblong, by the side of the chief. To hisleft, a step to the rear, he stationed Zarinska, her proper place.Besides, the time was ripe for mischief, and there was need to guardhis back.

  On either side, the men crouched to the fire, their voices lifted in afolk-chant out of the forgotten past. Full of strange, halting cadencesand haunting recurrences, it was not beautiful. 'Fearful' mayinadequately express it. At the lower end, under the eye of the Shaman,danced half a score of women. Stern were his reproofs of those who didnot wholly abandon themselves to the ecstasy of the rite. Half hiddenin their heavy masses of raven hair, all dishevelled and falling totheir waists, they slowly swayed to and fro, their forms rippling to anever-changing rhythm.

  It was a weird scene; an anachronism. To the south, the nineteenthcentury was reeling off the few years of its last decade; hereflourished man primeval, a shade removed from the prehistoriccave-dweller, forgotten fragment of the Elder World. The tawnywolf-dogs sat between their skin-clad masters or fought for room, thefirelight cast backward from their red eyes and dripping fangs. Thewoods, in ghostly shroud, slept on unheeding.

  The White Silence, for the moment driven to the rimming forest, seemedever crushing inward; the stars danced with great leaps, as is theirwont in the time of the Great Cold; while the Spirits of the Poletrailed their robes of glory athwart the heavens.

  'Scruff' Mackenzie dimly realized the wild grandeur of the setting ashis eyes ranged down the fur-fringed sides in quest of missing faces.They rested for a moment on a newborn babe, suckling at its mother'snaked breast. It was forty below,--seven and odd degrees of frost. Hethought of the tender women of his own race and smiled grimly. Yet fromthe loins of some such tender woman had he sprung with a kinglyinheritance,--an inheritance which gave to him and his dominance overthe land and sea, over the animals and the peoples of all the zones.Single-handed against fivescore, girt by the Arctic winter, far fromhis own, he felt the prompting of his heritage, the
desire to possess,the wild danger--love, the thrill of battle, the power to conquer or todie.

  The singing and the dancing ceased, and the Shaman flared up in rudeeloquence.

  Through the sinuosities of their vast mythology, he worked cunninglyupon the credulity of his people. The case was strong. Opposing thecreative principles as embodied in the Crow and the Raven, hestigmatized Mackenzie as the Wolf, the fighting and the destructiveprinciple. Not only was the combat of these forces spiritual, but menfought, each to his totem. They were the children of Jelchs, the Raven,the Promethean fire-bringer; Mackenzie was the child of the Wolf, or inother words, the Devil. For them to bring a truce to this perpetualwarfare, to marry their daughters to the arch-enemy, were treason andblasphemy of the highest order. No phrase was harsh nor figure vileenough in branding Mackenzie as a sneaking interloper and emissary ofSatan. There was a subdued, savage roar in the deep chests of hislisteners as he took the swing of his peroration.

  'Aye, my brothers, Jelchs is all-powerful! Did he not bringheaven-borne fire that we might be warm? Did he not draw the sun, moon,and stars, from their holes that we might see? Did he not teach us thatwe might fight the Spirits of Famine and of Frost? But now Jelchs isangry with his children, and they are grown to a handful, and he willnot help.

  'For they have forgotten him, and done evil things, and trod badtrails, and taken his enemies into their lodges to sit by their fires.And the Raven is sorrowful at the wickedness of his children; but whenthey shall rise up and show they have come back, he will come out ofthe darkness to aid them. O brothers! the Fire-Bringer has whisperedmessages to thy Shaman; the same shall ye hear. Let the young men takethe young women to their lodges; let them fly at the throat of theWolf; let them be undying in their enmity! Then shall their womenbecome fruitful and they shall multiply into a mighty people! And theRaven shall lead great tribes of their fathers and their fathers'fathers from out of the North; and they shall beat back the Wolves tillthey are as last year's campfires; and they shall again come to ruleover all the land! 'Tis the message of Jelchs, the Raven.' Thisforeshadowing of the Messiah's coming brought a hoarse howl from theSticks as they leaped to their feet. Mackenzie slipped the thumbs ofhis mittens and waited. There was a clamor for the 'Fox,' not to bestilled till one of the young men stepped forward to speak.

  'Brothers! The Shaman has spoken wisely. The Wolves have taken ourwomen, and our men are childless. We are grown to a handful. The Wolveshave taken our warm furs and given for them evil spirits which dwell inbottles, and clothes which come not from the beaver or the lynx, butare made from the grass.

  And they are not warm, and our men die of strange sicknesses. I, theFox, have taken no woman to wife; and why? Twice have the maidens whichpleased me gone to the camps of the Wolf. Even now have I laid by skinsof the beaver, of the moose, of the cariboo, that I might win favor inthe eyes of Thling-Tinneh, that I might marry Zarinska, his daughter.Even now are her snow-shoes bound to her feet, ready to break trail forthe dogs of the Wolf. Nor do I speak for myself alone.

  As I have done, so has the Bear. He, too, had fain been the father ofher children, and many skins has he cured thereto. I speak for all theyoung men who know not wives. The Wolves are ever hungry. Always dothey take the choice meat at the killing. To the Ravens are left theleavings.

  'There is Gugkla,' he cried, brutally pointing out one of the women,who was a cripple.

  'Her legs are bent like the ribs of a birch canoe. She cannot gatherwood nor carry the meat of the hunters. Did the Wolves choose her?''Ai! ai!' vociferated his tribesmen.

  'There is Moyri, whose eyes are crossed by the Evil Spirit. Even thebabes are affrighted when they gaze upon her, and it is said thebald-face gives her the trail.

  'Was she chosen?' Again the cruel applause rang out.

  'And there sits Pischet. She does not hearken to my words. Never hasshe heard the cry of the chit-chat, the voice of her husband, thebabble of her child.

  'She lives in the White Silence. Cared the Wolves aught for her? No!Theirs is the choice of the kill; ours is the leavings.

  'Brothers, it shall not be! No more shall the Wolves slink among ourcampfires. The time is come.' A great streamer of fire, the auroraborealis, purple, green, and yellow, shot across the zenith, bridginghorizon to horizon. With head thrown back and arms extended, he swayedto his climax.

  'Behold! The spirits of our fathers have arisen and great deeds areafoot this night!' He stepped back, and another young man somewhatdiffidently came forward, pushed on by his comrades. He towered a fullhead above them, his broad chest defiantly bared to the frost. He swungtentatively from one foot to the other.

  Words halted upon his tongue, and he was ill at ease. His face washorrible to look upon, for it had at one time been half torn away bysome terrific blow. At last he struck his breast with his clenchedfist, drawing sound as from a drum, and his voice rumbled forth as doesthe surf from an ocean cavern.

  'I am the Bear,--the Silver-Tip and the Son of the Silver-Tip! When myvoice was yet as a girl's, I slew the lynx, the moose, and the cariboo;when it whistled like the wolverines from under a cache, I crossed theMountains of the South and slew three of the White Rivers; when itbecame as the roar of the Chinook, I met the bald-faced grizzly, butgave no trail.' At this he paused, his hand significantly sweepingacross his hideous scars.

  'I am not as the Fox. My tongue is frozen like the river. I cannot makegreat talk. My words are few. The Fox says great deeds are afoot thisnight. Good! Talk flows from his tongue like the freshets of thespring, but he is chary of deeds.

  'This night shall I do battle with the Wolf. I shall slay him, andZarinska shall sit by my fire. The Bear has spoken.' Though pandemoniumraged about him, 'Scruff' Mackenzie held his ground.

  Aware how useless was the rifle at close quarters, he slipped bothholsters to the fore, ready for action, and drew his mittens till hishands were barely shielded by the elbow gauntlets. He knew there was nohope in attack en masse, but true to his boast, was prepared to diewith teeth fast-locked. But the Bear restrained his comrades, beatingback the more impetuous with his terrible fist. As the tumult began todie away, Mackenzie shot a glance in the direction of Zarinska. It wasa superb picture. She was leaning forward on her snow-shoes, lips apartand nostrils quivering, like a tigress about to spring. Her great blackeyes were fixed upon her tribesmen, in fear and defiance. So extremethe tension, she had forgotten to breathe. With one hand pressedspasmodically against her breast and the other as tightly gripped aboutthe dog-whip, she was as turned to stone. Even as he looked, reliefcame to her. Her muscles loosened; with a heavy sigh she settled back,giving him a look of more than love--of worship.

  Thling-Tinneh was trying to speak, but his people drowned his voice.Then Mackenzie strode forward. The Fox opened his mouth to a piercingyell, but so savagely did Mackenzie whirl upon him that he shrank back,his larynx all agurgle with suppressed sound. His discomfiture wasgreeted with roars of laughter, and served to soothe his fellows to alistening mood.

  'Brothers! The White Man, whom ye have chosen to call the Wolf, cameamong you with fair words. He was not like the Innuit; he spoke notlies. He came as a friend, as one who would be a brother. But your menhave had their say, and the time for soft words is past.

  'First, I will tell you that the Shaman has an evil tongue and is afalse prophet, that the messages he spake are not those of theFire-Bringer. His ears are locked to the voice of the Raven, and out ofhis own head he weaves cunning fancies, and he has made fools of you.He has no power.

  'When the dogs were killed and eaten, and your stomachs were heavy withuntanned hide and strips of moccasins; when the old men died, and theold women died, and the babes at the dry dugs of the mothers died; whenthe land was dark, and ye perished as do the salmon in the fall; aye,when the famine was upon you, did the Shaman bring reward to yourhunters? did the Shaman put meat in your bellies? Again I say, theShaman is without power. Thus I spit upon his face!' Though taken abackby the sacrilege, there was no uproar
. Some of the women were evenfrightened, but among the men there was an uplifting, as though inpreparation or anticipation of the miracle. All eyes were turned uponthe two central figures. The priest realized the crucial moment, felthis power tottering, opened his mouth in denunciation, but fledbackward before the truculent advance, upraised fist, and flashingeyes, of Mackenzie. He sneered and resumed.

  'Was I stricken dead? Did the lightning burn me? Did the stars fallfrom the sky and crush me? Pish! I have done with the dog. Now will Itell you of my people, who are the mightiest of all the peoples, whorule in all the lands. At first we hunt as I hunt, alone.

  'After that we hunt in packs; and at last, like the cariboo-run, wesweep across all the land.

  'Those whom we take into our lodges live; those who will not come die.Zarinska is a comely maiden, full and strong, fit to become the motherof Wolves. Though I die, such shall she become; for my brothers aremany, and they will follow the scent of my dogs.

  'Listen to the Law of the Wolf: Whoso taketh the life of one Wolf, theforfeit shall ten of his people pay. In many lands has the price beenpaid; in many lands shall it yet be paid.

  'Now will I deal with the Fox and the Bear. It seems they have casteyes upon the maiden. So? Behold, I have bought her! Thling-Tinnehleans upon the rifle; the goods of purchase are by his fire. Yet will Ibe fair to the young men. To the Fox, whose tongue is dry with manywords, will I give of tobacco five long plugs.

  'Thus will his mouth be wetted that he may make much noise in thecouncil. But to the Bear, of whom I am well proud, will I give ofblankets two; of flour, twenty cups; of tobacco, double that of theFox; and if he fare with me over the Mountains of the East, then will Igive him a rifle, mate to Thling-Tinneh's. If not? Good! The Wolf isweary of speech. Yet once again will he say the Law: Whoso taketh thelife of one Wolf, the forfeit shall ten of his people pay.'

  Mackenzie smiled as he stepped back to his old position, but at hearthe was full of trouble. The night was yet dark. The girl came to hisside, and he listened closely as she told of the Bear's battle-trickswith the knife.

  The decision was for war. In a trice, scores of moccasins were wideningthe space of beaten snow by the fire. There was much chatter about theseeming defeat of the Shaman; some averred he had but withheld hispower, while others conned past events and agreed with the Wolf. TheBear came to the center of the battle-ground, a long nakedhunting-knife of Russian make in his hand. The Fox called attention toMackenzie's revolvers; so he stripped his belt, buckling it aboutZarinska, into whose hands he also entrusted his rifle. She shook herhead that she could not shoot,--small chance had a woman to handle suchprecious things.

  'Then, if danger come by my back, cry aloud, "My husband!" No; thus,"My husband!"'

  He laughed as she repeated it, pinched her cheek, and reentered thecircle. Not only in reach and stature had the Bear the advantage ofhim, but his blade was longer by a good two inches. 'Scruff' Mackenziehad looked into the eyes of men before, and he knew it was a man whostood against him; yet he quickened to the glint of light on the steel,to the dominant pulse of his race.

  Time and again he was forced to the edge of the fire or the deep snow,and time and again, with the foot tactics of the pugilist, he workedback to the center. Not a voice was lifted in encouragement, while hisantagonist was heartened with applause, suggestions, and warnings. Buthis teeth only shut the tighter as the knives clashed together, and hethrust or eluded with a coolness born of conscious strength. At firsthe felt compassion for his enemy; but this fled before the primalinstinct of life, which in turn gave way to the lust of slaughter. Theten thousand years of culture fell from him, and he was a cave-dweller,doing battle for his female.

  Twice he pricked the Bear, getting away unscathed; but the third timecaught, and to save himself, free hands closed on fighting hands, andthey came together.

  Then did he realize the tremendous strength of his opponent. Hismuscles were knotted in painful lumps, and cords and tendons threatenedto snap with the strain; yet nearer and nearer came the Russian steel.He tried to break away, but only weakened himself. The fur-clad circleclosed in, certain of and anxious to see the final stroke. But withwrestler's trick, swinging partly to the side, he struck at hisadversary with his head. Involuntarily the Bear leaned back, disturbinghis center of gravity. Simultaneous with this, Mackenzie trippedproperly and threw his whole weight forward, hurling him clear throughthe circle into the deep snow. The Bear floundered out and came backfull tilt.

  'O my husband!' Zarinska's voice rang out, vibrant with danger.

  To the twang of a bow-string, Mackenzie swept low to the ground, and abonebarbed arrow passed over him into the breast of the Bear, whosemomentum carried him over his crouching foe. The next instant Mackenziewas up and about. The bear lay motionless, but across the fire was theShaman, drawing a second arrow. Mackenzie's knife leaped short in theair. He caught the heavy blade by the point. There was a flash of lightas it spanned the fire. Then the Shaman, the hilt alone appearingwithout his throat, swayed and pitched forward into the glowing embers.

  Click! Click!--the Fox had possessed himself of Thling-Tinneh's rifleand was vainly trying to throw a shell into place. But he dropped it atthe sound of Mackenzie's laughter.

  'So the Fox has not learned the way of the plaything? He is yet a woman.

  'Come! Bring it, that I may show thee!' The Fox hesitated.

  'Come, I say!' He slouched forward like a beaten cur.

  'Thus, and thus; so the thing is done.' A shell flew into place and thetrigger was at cock as Mackenzie brought it to shoulder.

  'The Fox has said great deeds were afoot this night, and he spoke true.There have been great deeds, yet least among them were those of theFox. Is he still intent to take Zarinska to his lodge? Is he minded totread the trail already broken by the Shaman and the Bear?

  'No? Good!'

  Mackenzie turned contemptuously and drew his knife from the priest'sthroat.

  'Are any of the young men so minded? If so, the Wolf will take them bytwo and three till none are left. No? Good! Thling-Tinneh, I now givethee this rifle a second time. If, in the days to come, thou shouldstjourney to the Country of the Yukon, know thou that there shall alwaysbe a place and much food by the fire of the Wolf. The night is nowpassing into the day. I go, but I may come again. And for the lasttime, remember the Law of the Wolf!' He was supernatural in their sightas he rejoined Zarinska. She took her place at the head of the team,and the dogs swung into motion. A few moments later they were swallowedup by the ghostly forest. Till now Mackenzie had waited; he slippedinto his snow-shoes to follow.

  'Has the Wolf forgotten the five long plugs?' Mackenzie turned upon theFox angrily; then the humor of it struck him.

  'I will give thee one short plug.' 'As the Wolf sees fit,' meeklyresponded the Fox, stretching out his hand.