turned a somersault in mid-air, and had landed
in a thick clump of junipers growing on a slope some thirty feet above
the creek bed.

Probably it was the passionate instinct of self-preservation, when all
hope seemed gone, which had made him give his body that violent
contortion. Apart from that, he owed his life to a miracle which must
always remain a mystery unexplained.

In spite of the break in his fall, he lay half-stunned among the bushes
for some time. And when at length his senses came to him again, he felt
sore in every limb.

There is an unfailing law among the wild peoples that, when an
individual is injured, it creeps into the most secret place it can find,
and there rests till it recovers sufficiently to face the world. Kiopo
had no need to look for a place more secret than the one he had fallen
into, so he stayed where he was, and let nature do the rest. For fully
two days, he remained in hiding. On the third, he crawled out into the
open; on the fourth, was sufficiently recovered to make a kill in the
shape of a fat buck rabbit; and, on the evening of the fifth, made his
way back to camp.

Instantly he returned, he knew that something was wrong. He ran
anxiously this way and that, scenting and looking. Eyes and nose told
him the same story. Dusty Star had gone, and he had not gone alone.
Kiopo soon found the trail, and immediately started off. The scent was
getting a little stale, but, faint though it was, it was sufficient for
the wolf's unerring nose. It was the well known Indian smell that he had
learned to distrust, and as he ran, his hackles rose. He ran on swiftly,
growing angrier as he ran, and eating up the distance with his long,
loping stride. Here the scent was a little fainter, there a little
stronger; but always the trail kept going on in the same direction to
the south. Kiopo knew that he was getting beyond his usual range. He had
never penetrated so far into the southern forest country before. He was
uneasy, as well as angry. There was a bad smell in the trail. It meant
mischief. And mischief towards his beloved little brother was the thing
in all the world which Kiopo would not stand.

Under the solemn shadow of the trees the great wolf sped on soundless
pads that carried his body like a phantom through the silence of the
woods. Now and then he would come to a cross trail, where some other
animal had lately passed, or the trail itself would be obscured. But
Kiopo had far too serious