ake, thinking, thinking.

Now the shadow hovering at the forest edge became more distinct as it
neared the house; it came slowly, stealing warily up the snow-clad hill.
There was no scrunch of footsteps, the snow muffled all such sounds. It
drew nearer, nearer, a tall, grey, ghostly shadow that seemed to float
over the white carpet which was everywhere spread out upon the earth.
And as it came the wind rose, gusty and patchy, and the hiss of rising
snow sounded stingingly upon the night air, and often beat with the
force of hail against the front of the dugout.

Within a few yards of the hut the figure came to a halt. Thus it stood,
immovable, a grey sombre shadow in the darkness of night. Then, after a
long pause, high above the voice of the rising wind the howl of the wolf
rang out. It came like a cry of woe from a lost soul; deep-toned, it
lifted upon the air, only to fall and die away lost in the shriek of the
wind. Thrice came the cry. Then the door of the dugout opened and Aim-sa
looked out into the relentless night.

The figure moved forward again. It drew near to the door, and, in the
light, the grey swathing of fur became apparent, and the cavernous hood
lapping about the head identified the Spirit of the Moosefoot Indians.
Then followed a low murmur of voices. And again the woman moved back
into the hut. The grey figure waited, and a moment later Aim-sa came to
him again. Shortly after the door closed and the Spirit moved silently
away.

All was profoundly dark. The darkness of the night was a darkness that
could be felt, for the merciless blizzard of the northern latitudes was
raging at its full height. The snow-fog had risen and all sign of trail
or footstep was swept from the icy carpet. It was a cruel night, and
surely one fit for the perpetration of cruel deeds.

And so the night passed. The elements warring with the fury of wildcats,
with the shrieking of fiends, with the roaring of artillery, with the
merciless severity of the bitter north. And while the storm swept the
valley the two brothers slept; even Ralph, although torn by such
conflicting emotions, was lulled, and finally won to sleep by the raging
elements whose voices he had listened to ever since his cradle days.

But even his slumbers were broken, and strange visions haunted his night
hours. There was none of the peacefulness of his usual repose--the
repose of a man who has performed his allotted daylight task. He tossed
and twisted wit