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And the next instant the shores of Snare Lake echoed to the wild weird sound of the wolf-cry the call of MacNair to his clan! Other calls and other summons might be ignored upon provocation, but when the terrible wolf-cry shattered the silence of the forest MacNair's Indians rushed to his side. Only death itself could deter them from fore-gathering at the sound of the wolf-cry.
It was not a wolf-cry, but the howl of a husky. He fancied then that the girl moved, that she was gripping the sides of the canoe with her hands. For fifteen minutes more there was not a sound but the dip of the paddles and the monotone of the wind sweeping through the forest tops.
In the air, in the whispering of the spruce-tops, in the moon and the stars themselves, there breathed a spirit which told him that what he had heard was the wolf-cry, but that it was not the wolf call.
In the gloom they stumbled, tripped over vines and creepers, and became involved among the close-crowding boles. Suddenly, once again the wolf-cry burst out, this time reechoed from another and another savage throat, wailing and plaintive and full of frightful portent. So much nearer now it seemed that Beatrice and Allan both stopped short.
"Everywhere that roots can hold at all, Mother Nature has set up her flags again. Hark! What's that?" A moment they listened intently. Up to them, from very far, rose a wailing cry, tremulous, long-drawn, formidable. "Oh! Then there are people, after all?" faltered the girl, grasping Stern's arm. He laughed. "No, hardly!" answered he. "I see you don't know the wolf-cry.
And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped. From far off in the plain there came a cry. It was his cry the wolf-cry. His jaws snapped. His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his throat. He wanted to reply, but some strange instinct urged him not to. That instinct of the wild was already becoming master of him.
The fact that MacNair had made use of the wolf-cry to call them together, his set face, and terse, quick commands told the Indians that this was no ordinary expedition, and the eyes of the men glowed with anticipation. The long-promised the inevitable battle was at hand. The time had come for ridding the North of Lapierre. And the fight would be a fight to the death.
With clubbed guns and axes, Lapierre's men were meeting the Indians who swarmed over the walls. Once more the wild wolf-cry rang in the girl's ears as MacNair leaped into the thick of the fight. The girl became conscious that someone was pounding at her feet. She glanced downward. Two Indians were upon the ladder waiting to get over the wall.
There was an owl's head, feathers, wings and entrails lying here, and he knew that there were other hunters abroad besides himself. Toward evening he came upon tracks in the snow that were very much like his own. They were quite fresh, and there was a warm scent about them that made him whine, and filled him again with that desire to fall back upon his haunches and send forth the wolf-cry.
All the drivers were more or less the worse for merry-making, and the groom was absorbed in his bride. The wolves were bad that winter, and everyone knew it, yet when they heard the first wolf-cry, the drivers were not much alarmed. They had too much good food and drink inside them. The first howls were taken up and echoed and with quickening repetitions. The wolves were coming together.
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