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We White Wolfs 



whither the game or their new mates were 

 calling them. When the summer came there 

 was another den on the high hill overlooking 

 the harbor, where the little brown cubs could 

 7 look down with wonder at the shining sea and 

 the slow fishing-boats and the children play- 

 ins; on the shore ; but the wolves whose 

 trail began there were far away over 

 the mountains, following their own 

 ways, waiting for the crisp hunting cry 

 that should bring them again together. 



