his success. And
truly, Ben had made a remarkable shot. Most hunters who boast of
long-range hits do not step off the distance shot; fifty yards is called
a hundred, a hundred and fifty yards three hundred; and to kill true at
this range is not the accustomed thing on the trails of sport. The
bullet had gone true as a light-shaft, striking the animal through the
shoulders, and he had never stirred out of his tracks. With that joy of
conquest known to all owners of rod and gun--related darkly to the
blood-lust of the beasts--they raced across the gully toward the
fallen.

Ben quartered the animal, and again he saw fit to save the hide. It is
the best material of all for the parka, the long, full winter garment of
the North.

Ben carried the meat in four trips back to the camp. By the time this
work was done, and one of the quarters was drying over a fire of
quivering aspen chips, the day was done. Again they saw the twilight
shadows grow, and the first sable cloak of night was drawn over the
shoulders of the forest. Beatrice prepared a wonderful roast of caribou
for their evening meal; and thereafter they sat a short time at the
mouth of the cavern, looking quietly into the red coals of the dying
fire. Again Ben knew the beneficence and peace of the sheltering walls
of home. Again he felt a sweet security,--a taming, gentling influence
through the innermost fiber of his being.

But Fenris the wolf gazed only into the darkened woods, and the hair
stood stiff at his shoulders, and his eyes glowed and shone with the
ancient hunting madness induced by the rising moon.

XXX

June passed away in the wilds of Back There, leaving warmer, longer
days, a more potent sun, and a greener, fresher loveliness to the land.
The spring calves no longer tottered on wabbly legs, but could follow
their swift mothers over the most steep and difficult trails. Fledglings
learned to fly, the wolf cubs had their first lessons in hunting on the
ridges. The wild Yuga had fallen to such an extent that navigation--down
to the Indian villages on the lower waters--was wholly impossible.

The days passed quickly for Ben and Beatrice. They found plenty of work
and even of play to pass the time. Partly to fill her lonely moments,
but more because it was an instinct with her, Beatrice took an
ever-increasing interest in her cave home. She kept it clean and cooked
the meals, performing her tasks with goodwill, even at times a gaiety
that was a