danger, he leaps for the nearest wolf and 

 dies fighting. 



Spite of the killing cold, the problem of 

 keeping warm was to the wolves always a 

 simple one. Moving along through the win- 

 ter night, always on a swift, silent trot, they 

 picked up what game came in their way, and 

 scarcely felt the eager cold that nipped at 

 their ears, or the wind, keen as an icicle, that 

 strove to penetrate the shaggy white coats 

 that covered them. When their hunger was 

 satisfied, or when the late day came and found 

 them still hunting hopefully, they would 

 push their way into the thick scrub from one 

 of the numerous paths and lie down on a 

 nest of leaves, which even in midwinter were 

 dry as if no snow or rain had ever fallen. 

 There, where no wind or gale however strong 

 could penetrate, and with the snow filling 

 the low branches overhead and piled over 

 them in a soft, warm blanket three feet thick, 

 they would push their sensitive noses into 

 their own thick fur to keep them warm, and 

 sleep comfortably till the early twilight came 

 and called them out again to the hunting. 



119 



TfieMlfeWoffs 



