Trails that Cross in the Snow 119 
Again the two trails had crossed in the snow. The big 
wolf as he appeared had thrust his nose into the snow- 
shoe tracks, and a sniff or two told him everything, — 
who had passed, and how long ago, and what they were 
doing, and how far ahead they were now waiting. But 
the caribou were coming, coaxed along marvelously by 
the cubs and the old mother; and the great silent wolf, 
that had left the pack playing with the game while he 
circled the barren at top speed, now turned to the busi¬ 
ness in hand with no thought nor fear of harm from the 
two children whom he had watched but yesterday. 
Not so Noel. The fire blazed out in his eyes; the 
long bow swung to the wolf, bending like a steel spring, 
and the feathered shaft of an arrow lay close against the 
boy’s cheek. But Mooka caught his arm — 
“ Look, Noel, his ear! Malsunsis , my little wolf cub,” 
she breathed excitedly. And Noel, with a great wonder 
in his eyes, slacked his bow, while his thoughts jumped far 
away to the den on the mountains where the trail began, 
and to three little cubs playing like kittens with the grass¬ 
hoppers and the cloud shadows; for the great wolf that 
lay so still near them, his eyes fixed in a steady glow upon 
the coming caribou, had one ear bent sharply forward, 
like a leaf that has been creased between the fingers. 
Again Mooka broke the tense silence in a low whis¬ 
per. “ How many wolf trails you see yesterday, little 
brother ? ” 
