Kitty 



I saw a suggestion of wild restraint, of mystery, of 

 unslaked life. 



Strangely enough, his next words confirmed my 

 last thought. 



&quot; For forty years I ve had an ambition. It s to 

 get possession of an island in the Pacific, somewhere 

 between Vancouver and Alaska, and then go to 

 Siberia and capture a lot of Russian sables. I d put 

 them on the island and cross them with our silver 

 foxes. I m going to try it next year if I can find the 

 time.&quot; 



The ruling passion and character determine our 

 lives. Jones was sixty-three years old, yet the thing 

 that had ruled and absorbed his mind was still as 

 strong as the longing for freedom in Kitty s wild 

 heart. 



Hours after I had crawled into my sleeping-bag, 

 in the silence of night I heard her working to get 

 free. In darkness she was most active, restless, 

 intense. I heard the clink of her chain, the crack of 

 her teeth, the scrape of her claws. How tireless she 

 was. I recalled the wistful light in her eyes that 

 saw, no doubt, far beyond the campfire to the yellow 

 crags, to the great downward slopes, to freedom. I 

 slipped my elbow out of the bag and raised myself. 

 Dark shadows were hovering under the pines. I saw 

 Kitty s eyes gleam like sparks, and I seemed to see 



309 



