LONE WOLF 263 



lights of the straggling village below the 

 slopes of the pasture. But not for lights, 

 or for villages, or for men was his concern. 

 Sitting up very straight on his gaunt haunches, 

 he stretched his muzzle toward the taunting 

 moon, and began to sound that long, dreadful 

 gathering cry of his race. 



It was an unknown, or a long-forgotten, 

 voice in those neighbourhoods ; but none 

 who heard it needed to have it explained. 

 In half a minute every dog in the settlement 

 was howling, barking, or yelping, in rage or 

 fear. To Lone Wolf all this clamour was as 

 nothing. He paid no more attention to it 

 than as if it had been the twittering of 

 sparrows. Then doors opened, and lights 

 flashed, as men came out to see what was 

 the matter. Clearly visible, silhouetted 

 against the low moon, Lone Wolf kept up his 

 sinister chant to the unseen. But presently, 

 out of the corner of his eye, he noted half a 

 dozen men approaching up the pasture, with 

 the noisy dogs at their heels. Men! That was 

 different ! Could it be that they wanted 

 him ? All at once he experienced a qualm 

 of conscience, so to speak, about the sheep 

 he had killed. It occurred to him that if 

 sheep belonged to men there might be trouble 

 ahead. Abruptly he stopped his serenading 



