or the lynx, but
are made from the grass.

And they are not warm, and our men die of strange sicknesses. I, the
Fox, have taken no woman to wife; and why? Twice have the maidens which
pleased me gone to the camps of the Wolf. Even now have I laid by skins
of the beaver, of the moose, of the cariboo, that I might win favor in
the eyes of Thling-Tinneh, that I might marry Zarinska, his daughter.
Even now are her snow-shoes bound to her feet, ready to break trail for
the dogs of the Wolf. Nor do I speak for myself alone.

As I have done, so has the Bear. He, too, had fain been the father of
her children, and many skins has he cured thereto. I speak for all the
young men who know not wives. The Wolves are ever hungry. Always do
they take the choice meat at the killing. To the Ravens are left the
leavings.

'There is Gugkla,' he cried, brutally pointing out one of the women,
who was a cripple.

'Her legs are bent like the ribs of a birch canoe. She cannot gather
wood nor carry the meat of the hunters. Did the Wolves choose her?'
'Ai! ai!' vociferated his tribesmen.

'There is Moyri, whose eyes are crossed by the Evil Spirit. Even the
babes are affrighted when they gaze upon her, and it is said the
bald-face gives her the trail.

'Was she chosen?' Again the cruel applause rang out.

'And there sits Pischet. She does not hearken to my words. Never has
she heard the cry of the chit-chat, the voice of her husband, the
babble of her child.

'She lives in the White Silence. Cared the Wolves aught for her? No!
Theirs is the choice of the kill; ours is the leavings.

'Brothers, it shall not be! No more shall the Wolves slink among our
campfires. The time is come.' A great streamer of fire, the aurora
borealis, purple, green, and yellow, shot across the zenith, bridging
horizon to horizon. With head thrown back and arms extended, he swayed
to his climax.

'Behold! The spirits of our fathers have arisen and great deeds are
afoot this night!' He stepped back, and another young man somewhat
diffidently came forward, pushed on by his comrades. He towered a full
head above them, his broad chest defiantly bared to the frost. He swung
tentatively from one foot to the other.

Words halted upon his tongue, and he was ill at ease. His face was
horrible to look upon, for it had at one time been half torn away by
some terrific blow. At last he struck his breast with his clenched
fist, drawing sound as from a drum, and his voice r