“THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE” 23 
mountain timber, Swiftfoot heard a great baying 
of dogs down by the pastures, and which came 
rapidly up the slope. He pricked up his ears, 
elevated his nose, assured himself that the dog- 
pack could not be on his scent, and then trotted 
swiftly toward the sound, impelled by a great 
curiosity. The dogs were evidently moving up 
toward Fang’s den. Keeping carefully down 
wind, and above the dogs on the slope, Swiftfoot 
drew in. Would Fang get to his den in time to 
rouse Softfur and the two cubs (there were two, 
he knew, for he had seen them playing in the sun 
in front of the den), and start them quickly 
enough to escape? Of course, the old wolves 
could outrun the dogs easily, but the cubs 
couldn’t. Or would they stay and fight? 
Suddenly the hunt swerved off, and came to- 
ward him. Hello, old Fang was going to give 
the dogs a run! Well, he could do it, all right, 
but Swiftfoot didn’t propose to have the trail 
cross his. It was too hot a night for such violent 
exercise. He ran back on his own tracks, ti]l he 
came to a brook, and trotted up that a way, a trick 
he had learned from the foxes. 
