ient friend to
man, but are ever the mark of the wild beast of the forest. The fangs
were bared, gleaming in foam, the hair stood erect on the powerful
shoulders; and instantly Ben recognized its breed. It was a magnificent
specimen of that huge, gaunt runner of the forests, the Northern wolf.
Evidently from the black shades of his fur he was partly of the Siberian
breed of wolves that beforetime have migrated down on the North American
side of Bering Sea.

A chain was attached to the animal's collar, and this in turn to a stake
that had been freshly pulled from the ground. This beast was
Fenris,--the woods creature that old Hiram Melville had raised from
cubdom.

There could be no doubt as to the reality of the girl's peril. The
animal was insane with the hunting madness, and he was plainly stalking
her, just as his fierce mother might have stalked a fawn, across the
young grass. Already he was almost near enough to leap, and the girl's
young, strong body could be no defense against the hundred and fifty
pounds of wire sinew and lightning muscle that constituted the wolf. The
bared fangs need flash but once for such game as this. And yet, after
the first, startled glance, Ben Darby felt himself complete master of
the situation.

No man could tell him why. No fact of his life would have been harder to
explain, no impulse in all his days had had a more inscrutable origin.
The realization seemed to spring from some cool, sequestered knowledge
hidden deep in his spirit. He knew, in one breathless instant, that he
was the master--and that the girl was safe.

He seemed to know, again, that he had found his ordained sphere. He knew
this breed,--this savage, blood-mad, fierce-eyed creature that turned,
snarling, at his approach. He had something in common with the breed,
knowing their blood-lusts and their mighty moods; and dim, dreamlike
memory reminded him that he had mastered them in a long war that went
down to the roots of time. Fenris was only a fellow wilderness creature,
a pack brother of the dark forests, and he had no further cause for
fear.

"Fenris!" he ordered sharply. "Come here!" His voice was commanding and
clear above the animal's snarls.

There followed a curious, long instant of utter silence and infinite
suspense. The girl's scream died on her lips: the wolf stood tense,
wholly motionless. Morris, who had drawn his knife and had prepared to
leap with magnificent daring upon the wolf, turned with wid