ed The Call. And now, at the end, he was seized by a fear of what
his welcome would be. For at the cabin he had killed a man--and the man
had belonged to the woman. His progress became more hesitating.
Mid-forenoon found him only half a mile from the home of Nanette and
the baby. His keen nostrils caught the faint tang of smoke in the air.
He did not follow it up, but circled like a wolf, coming up stealthily
and uncertainly until at last he looked out into the little clearing
where a new world had come into existence for him. He saw the sapling
cage in which Jacques Le Beau had kept him a prisoner; the door of that
cage was still open, as Durant had left it after stealing him; he saw
the ploughed-up snow where he had leapt upon the man-brute--and he
whined.

He was facing the cabin door--and the door was wide open. He could see
no life, but he could SMELL it. And smoke was rising from the chimney.
He slunk across the open. In the manner of his going there was an
abject humiliation--a plea for mercy if he had done wrong, a prayer to
the creatures he worshipped that he might not be driven away.

He came to the door, and peered in. The room was empty. Nanette was not
there. Then his ears shot forward and his body grew suddenly tense, and
he listened, listened, LISTENED to a soft, cooing sound that was coming
from the crib. He swallowed hard; the faintest whine rose in his throat
and his claws CLICKED, CLICKED, CLICKED, across the floor and he thrust
his great head over the side of the little bed. The baby was there.
With his warm tongue he kissed it--just once--and then, with another
deep breath, lay down on the floor.

He heard footsteps. Nanette came in with her arms filled with blankets;
she carried these into the smaller room, and returned, before she saw
him. For a moment she stared. Then, with a strange little cry, she ran
to him; and once more he felt her arms about him; and he cried like a
puppy with his muzzle against her breast, and Nanette laughed and
sobbed, and in the crib the baby kicked and squealed and thrust her
tiny moccasined feet up into the air.

"Ao-oo tap-wa-mukun" ("When the devil goes heaven comes in,") say the
Crees. And with the death of Le Beau, her husband, the devil had gone
out of life for Nanette. She was more beautiful than ever. Heaven was
in the dark, pure glow of her eyes. She was no longer like a dog under
the club and the whip of a brute, and in the re-birth of her soul she
was gl