124 Northern Trails. Book I 
Fear and wonder, and swift memories of Old Tomah 
and the wolf that had followed him when he was lost, 
swept over Noel in a flood. He rose swiftly, the long 
bow bent, and again a deadly arrow cuddled softly 
against his cheek; but there were doubts and fears 
in his eye till Mooka caught his arm with a glad little 
laugh — 
“ My cub, little brother. See his ear, and oh, his tail! 
Watch um tail, little brother.” For at the first move the 
big wolf sprang alertly to his feet, looked deep into 
Mooka’s eyes with that intense, penetrating light which 
serves a wild animal to read your very thoughts, and 
instantly his great bushy tail was waving its friendly 
greeting. 
It was indeed Malsunsis, the cub. Before the great 
storm broke he had crouched with the pack in the 
hollow just in front of the little hunters; and although 
the wolves were hungry, it was with feelings of curiosity 
only that they watched the children, who seemed to the 
powerful brutes hardly more to be feared than a couple 
of ^snowbirds hopping across the vast barren. But they 
were children of men — that was enough for the white- 
wolf packs, which for untold years had never been 
known to molest a man. This morning Malsunsis had 
again crossed their trail. He had seen them lying in 
wait for the caribou that his own pack were driving; 
had seen Noel smite the bull, and was filled with 
