97 
The White Wolf's Hunting 
food; for thrice that time they had not fed full, and a 
few days more would leave them unable to cope with 
the big caribou, which are always full fed and strong, 
thanks to nature’s abundance of deer moss on the bar¬ 
rens. So they started as by a single impulse, and the 
mother wolf led them swiftly southward, hour after hour 
at a tireless pace, till the great he-wolf weakened and 
turned aside to nurse his wounded fore leg. The lop- 
eared cub drew out of the race at the same time. His 
own wound now required the soft massage of his tongue 
to allay the fever; and besides, the fear that was born in 
him, one night long ago, and that had slept ever since, 
was now awake again, and for the first time he was 
afraid to face the famine and the wilderness alone. So 
the pack swept on, as if their feet would never tire, and 
the two wounded wolves crept into the scrub and lay 
down together. 
A strange, terrible feeling stole swiftly over the 
covert, which had always hitherto been a place of rest 
and quiet content. The cub was licking his wound 
softly when he looked up in sudden alarm, and there 
was the great he-wolf looking at him hungrily, with a 
frightful flare in his green eyes. The cub moved away 
startled and tried to soothe his wound again; but the 
uncanny feeling was strong upon him still, and when he 
turned his head there was the big wolf, which had crept 
forward till he could see the cub behind a twisted spruce 
