134 HOWL OF THE GREY WOLF. 



bend, and point after point, was reached and passed. 



I shouted aloud with a spirit of bravado, the echoes 



answering back with mocking, jeering distinctness, 



supernatural in their intonation, till the lengthening 



and greater density of the shadows warned me that 



night approached rapidly. Buckling the strap of 



my skate tighter, for it had become loose through 



the protracted strain, I almost flew as I retraced 



my steps, for I regretted the curtailment of time, 



and was eager to make the most of what was 



remaining. Possibly a growing horror of passing 



the night where the solitude was the most intense 



I had ever experienced, gave me wings. At any 



rate my retreat was infinitely more swift than my 



ascent. A mile more would carry me out of the 



swamp and leaf-bound watercourse. Already, in 



imagination, the broad expanse of the receiving river 



was in sight, when a yell so wild and unearthly 



that my blood became cold and stagnated in my 



extremities, struck upon my ear. The dweller in 



cities or the foreigner might have thought that it 



emanated from a fury expelled from the regions of 



the wicked one ; but not a moment was I in doubt 



it was the voice of the dreaded grey wolf of the 



North. You know the cayotte and prairie-wolf; 



they are no more to be compared with these fiends 



than a terrier is with a bloodhound. In size the grey 



wolf is double that of the others, in speed he is 



almost a match for the fastest horse ; their sense of 



smell is so acute that they trace their prey almost 



