in the late Summer or the
Fall, would sometimes stop to listen to a sound that rose, and died, and
swelled again, in strange discords that set Indian pulses throbbing in
an uncomfortable way. Sometimes the sound would seem to be a series of
single notes, from a solitary voice. At others, the notes crowded
thickly together as if from a multitude of throats. Indians who were
deeply religious declared that it was the wolves making medicine, when
the Great Spirit walked across the Bad Lands at the falling of the year.

Dusty Star and Kiopo reached this haunted region just at sundown. The
great bare buttes stood up redly in the sunset light. The deep stillness
was unbroken by the slightest sound. As far as the eye could reach there
was not a sign of a living thing. They had travelled steadily all day
since early dawn, and Dusty Star was glad to rest. He still had some
food left over from the previous day, the fruits of Kiopo's hunting, so
he had only to look out for a convenient spot for camping, and settle
down for the night. As soon as he had found one near a small spring,
Kiopo went off. That was nothing extraordinary, Dusty Star watched him
lift his nose to try the air, and then trot quietly down the creek bed
to the south. He knew by his movements that he was off to hunt.

After he had finished his supper, Dusty Star lay down in the place he
had chosen, and dropped instantly to sleep. He seemed to have been
asleep a long time when he woke suddenly to find Kiopo standing over him
in the moonlight. The wolf was plainly uneasy. He was making the
half-whining, half-growling sound which was always a sign that something
unusual was taking place.

Dusty Star sat up, and looked about him. In the intense clearness of the
cloudless night every object was distinctly visible. The buttes stood
out in huge silver masses, washed by the light of the moon. Their
hollows and ravines were deep in shadow; but neither in light nor shadow
was there anything which gave sign of life. Yet Dusty Star felt as if,
in spite of the apparent stillness, sound had lately travelled through
the air. The silence was not empty.

As he listened, he heard a long wolf-howl rise and fall in the distance.
It had scarcely died away when it was followed by another, and then
another. Then a whole chorus of howls filled the night with a loud and
desolate clamour. At once he knew what he was listening to. It was the
singing of the Wolves.

He listened for some