74 
Northern Trails. Book I 
Why they did it, what they felt there in the strange 
unreality of the moonlight, and what hushed their 
profound enmity, none can tell. Ordinarily the wolf 
hates both fox and dog, and kills them whenever they 
cross his path; but to-night the foxes were yapping 
an answer all around them, and sometimes a few ad¬ 
venturous dogs would scale the mountains silently to 
sit on the rocks and join in the wild wolf chorus, and 
not a wolf stirred to molest them. All were more or 
less lunatic, and knew not what they were doing. 
For hours the uncanny comedy would drag itself on 
into the tense midnight silence, the wailing cry growing 
more demented and heartrending as the spell of ancient 
days fell again upon the degenerate huskies. Up on the 
lonely mountain tops the moon looked down, still and 
cold, and saw upon every pinnacle a dog or a wolf, each 
with his head turned up at the sky, howling his heart 
out. Down in the hamlet, scattered for miles along 
Deep Arm and the harbor shore, sleepers stirred un¬ 
easily at the clamor, the women clutching their babies 
close, the men cursing the crazy brutes and vowing all 
sorts of vengeance on the morrow. Then the wolves 
would slip away like shadows into the vast upland 
barrens, and the- dogs, restless as witches with some 
unknown excitement, would run back to whine and 
scratch at the doors of their masters’ cabins. 
