leading it upon the pony Spotted Eagle had hastily given him.

Never before in the longest Indian memory, had there been such a flight,
or such a pursuit. As it swept tumultuously northwards, men and beasts
mingled strangely under the pale glare of the moon. Across the quiet
spaces of the night it sped on its ghastly way, till the thunder of the
beating hoofs roused the echoes in the hills.

Dusty Star, galloping onward, with Kiopo running by his side, was filled
with a wild feeling of exultation. The wolves had conquered. The enemy
was in the full flight of utmost panic. Never again could any one doubt
the power that had been given to him through Kiopo--the Medicine of the
Wolves. Never again could it be urged by those who hated them both that,
when his people were in danger of destruction, he had refused to help
them in their need. And as the last overtaken Yellow Dog was struck
down, with the exception of the small number who managed to escape their
merciless pursuers, he knew that his work was ended, and that Kiopo need
fear his enemies no longer.

CHAPTER XXVII

CARBOONA'S CALL

It was a triumphal entry which Dusty Star with Kiopo at his side, made
into the camp. In the absence of the men, the squaws had built large
outside fires partly to celebrate their victorious return, partly for
the purpose of extensive cooking.

As Dusty Star and his wolf came within the circle of the light, a great
shout went up. The entire camp stormed forward to meet them, Spotted
Eagle and the other chiefs forming a guard of honour. Naturally Dusty
Star's father, who had returned at last in safety, and his mother were
the first to greet him. Nikana's delight in having her now famous son
safe and sound once more was unbounded. Running Wolf made little outward
sign of joy; but it was not the blaze of the fires alone which made his
dusky features take that unaccustomed glow, or the light glitter in his
black eyes, as he gazed with pride upon his son.

And though half the camp seemed pressing forward to do him honour, and
the other half to hang back respectfully in awe of his terrible wolf,
Dusty Star's memory did not sleep. There were other scenes, little less
vivid, in which he and Kiopo had played very different parts, and when
the eyes which now gazed upon them with gratitude and awe had watched
them with suspicion and hate. Within him the human mind, and the wolf's
instinct, were fighting; and neither would allow him to