anner that plainly showed he was
going somewhere. He made it clear to Buck that he was to come, and they
ran side by side through the sombre twilight, straight up the creek bed,
into the gorge from which it issued, and across the bleak divide where
it took its rise.

On the opposite slope of the watershed they came down into a level
country where were great stretches of forest and many streams, and
through these great stretches they ran steadily, hour after hour, the
sun rising higher and the day growing warmer. Buck was wildly glad. He
knew he was at last answering the call, running by the side of his wood
brother toward the place from where the call surely came. Old memories
were coming upon him fast, and he was stirring to them as of old he
stirred to the realities of which they were the shadows. He had done
this thing before, somewhere in that other and dimly remembered world,
and he was doing it again, now, running free in the open, the unpacked
earth underfoot, the wide sky overhead.

They stopped by a running stream to drink, and, stopping, Buck
remembered John Thornton. He sat down. The wolf started on toward the
place from where the call surely came, then returned to him, sniffing
noses and making actions as though to encourage him. But Buck turned
about and started slowly on the back track. For the better part of an
hour the wild brother ran by his side, whining softly. Then he sat down,
pointed his nose upward, and howled. It was a mournful howl, and as Buck
held steadily on his way he heard it grow faint and fainter until it was
lost in the distance.

John Thornton was eating dinner when Buck dashed into camp and sprang
upon him in a frenzy of affection, overturning him, scrambling upon him,
licking his face, biting his hand--"playing the general tom-fool," as
John Thornton characterized it, the while he shook Buck back and forth
and cursed him lovingly.

For two days and nights Buck never left camp, never let Thornton out of
his sight. He followed him about at his work, watched him while he ate,
saw him into his blankets at night and out of them in the morning. But
after two days the call in the forest began to sound more imperiously
than ever. Buck's restlessness came back on him, and he was haunted by
recollections of the wild brother, and of the smiling land beyond the
divide and the run side by side through the wide forest stretches. Once
again he took to wandering in the woods, but the wild brother