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 



