United States or Cocos Islands ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !


Three or four times before dusk Sandy worked to rouse Kazan's animosity. But there was no longer any desire left in Kazan to fight. His two terrific beatings, and the crushing blow of the bullet against his skull, had made him sick. He lay with his head between his forepaws, his eyes closed, and did not see McTrigger. He paid no attention to the meat that was thrown under his nose.

But Kazan's head was alert, and his eyes watchful, so Pierre spoke to him. "We've got to get them home, and there's only you and me to do it," he said, twisting his beard. Suddenly he clenched his fists. His hollow racking cough convulsed him again. "Home!" he panted, clutching his chest.

A moan of anguish burst from Jan's lips and he held his face close down against Kazan's head, and sobbed now like a child, while Kazan rubbed his hot muzzle against his cheek and his muscles hardened in a last desire to give battle to whatever was giving his master grief.

It was Kazan's eyes that gave to Baree his first impression of something existing away from his mother's side, and they brought to him also his discovery of vision. He could feel, he could smell, he could hear but in that black pit under the fallen timber he had never seen until the eyes came. At first they frightened him; then they puzzled him, and his fear changed to an immense curiosity.

It was a man's voice crying shrilly that word of long ago that had so often stirred the blood in Kazan's own veins "m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!" and from the ridge they looked down upon the open space of the plain, where a team of six dogs was trotting ahead of a sledge, with a man running behind them, urging them on at every other step with that cry of "m'hoosh! m'hoosh! m'hoosh!"

Twenty circles became a hundred two hundred and more. Under Gray Wolf's and Kazan's feet the snow grew hard in the path they made. Under the old bull's widespread hoofs the snow was no longer white but red. A thousand times before this unseen tragedy of the wilderness had been enacted.

To his surprise the man did not pick up a stick or a club. He held out his hand again cautiously and spoke in a voice new to Kazan. The dog snapped again, and growled. The man persisted, talking to him all the time, and once his mittened hand touched Kazan's head, and escaped before the jaws could reach it.

Gray Wolf, in her blindness, scented death. It shivered in the tree-tops above her. She found it in every trap-house they came to death man death. It grew stronger and stronger, and she whined, and nipped Kazan's flank. And Kazan went on.

They were drifting past the point now, and the scent of Gray Wolf came to Kazan's nostrils, rousing him, and bringing a low whine from his throat. "You're not sorry we're going?" Joan shook her head. "No," she replied. "Only I've always lived here in the forests and they're home!" The point with its white finger of sand, was behind them now. And Kazan was standing rigid, facing it.

With the desire that was growing in him there was still that old suspicion which nothing could quite wipe out the suspicion that was an inheritance of his quarter-strain of wolf. Gray Wolf whined joyfully when he turned into the forest, and drew so close to him that her shoulder rubbed against Kazan's as they traveled side by side. The "slush" snows followed fast after this.