of passion, mercy and tolerance
and self-control: all these mighty bulwarks of man's dominance grew into
strength behind the sheltering walls of home.

Thus in these few little weeks Ben Darby--a beast of the forest in his
unbridled passions--had in some measure imaged the life history of the
race. He had lived again the momentous regeneration. The protecting
walls, the hearth, particularly Beatrice's wholesome and healing
influence, had tamed him. He was still a forester, bred in the
bone--loving these forest depths with an ardor too deep for words--but
the mark of the beast was gone from his flesh.

He could still deal justice to Ezram's murderers and thus keep faith
with his dead partner; but the primal passions could no longer dominate
him. His pet, however, remained the wolf. The sheltering cavern walls
were never for him. He loved Ben with an undying devotion, yet a barrier
was rising between them. They could not go the same paths forever.

Matters reached a crisis between Fenris and himself one still, warm
night in late July. The two were sitting side by side at the cavern maw,
watching the slow enchantment of the forest under the spell of the
rising moon; Beatrice had already gone to her hammock. As the last
little blaze died in the fire, and it crackled at ever longer intervals,
Ben suddenly made a moving discovery. The fringe of forest about him,
usually so dreamlike and still, was simply breathing and throbbing with
life.

Ben dropped his hand to the wolf's shoulders. "The little folks are
calling on us to-night," he said quietly.

In all probability he spoke the truth. It was not an uncommon thing for
the creatures of the wood--usually the lesser people such as rodents and
the small hunters--to crowd close to the edge of the glade and try to
puzzle out this ruddy mystery in its center. Unused to men they could
never understand. Sometimes the lynx halted in his hunt to investigate,
sometimes an old black bear--kindly, benevolent good-humored old
bachelor that every naturalist loves--grunted and pondered at the edge
of shadow, and sometimes even such lordly creatures as moose and caribou
paused in their night journeys to see what was taking place.

Curiously, the wolf started violently at Ben's touch. The man suddenly
regarded him with a gaze of deepest interest. The hair was erect on the
powerful neck, the eyes swam in pale, blue fire, and he was staring away
into the mysterious shadows.

"What do you