hermen, asleep in their clothes under caribou skins, or sitting close
by the stove behind barred doors, would know nothing of the huge, gaunt
forms that flitted noiselessly past the frosted windows. If a pig were
left in his pen a sudden terrible squealing would break out on the still
night; and when the fisherman rushed out the pen would be empty, with
nothing whatever to account for piggie's disappearance. For to their
untrained eyes even the tracks of the wolves were covered up by those of
the numerous big huskies. If a cat prowled abroad, or an uneasy dog
scratched to be let out, there would be a squall, a yelp,--and the cat
would not come back, and the dog would never scratch at the door to be
let in again.

Only when nothing stirred in the village, when the dogs and cats had
been spirited away, and when not even a rat stole from under the houses
to gnaw at a fishbone, would the fishermen know of their big silent
visitors. Then the wolves would gather on a snow-drift just outside the
village and raise a howl, a frightful wail of famine and disappointment,
that made the air shudder. From within the houses the dogs answered with
mad clamor. A door would open to show first a long seal gun, then a
fisherman, then a fool dog that darted between the fisherman's legs and
capered away, ki-yi-ing a challenge to the universe. A silence, tense as
a bowstring; a sudden yelp--_Hui-hui_, as the fisherman whistled to the
dog that was being whisked away over the snow with a grip on his throat
that prevented any answer; then the fisherman would wait and call in
vain, and shiver, and go back to the fire again.

Almost every pleasant day a train of dogs would leave the village and go
far back on the hills to haul fire-wood, or poles for the new
fish-flakes. The wolves, watching from their old den, would follow at a
distance to pick up a careless dog that ventured away from the fire to
hunt rabbits when his harness was taken off. Occasionally a solitary
wood-chopper would start with sudden alarm as a big white form glided
into sight, and the alarm would be followed by genuine terror as he
found himself surrounded by five huge wolves that sat on their tails
watching him curiously. Gripping his ax he would hurry back to call his
companions and harness the dogs and hurry back to the village before the
early darkness should fall upon them. As the komatik went careering over
the snow, the dogs yelping and straining at the harness, the men