She struggled up the sand bluff, fighting for strength, mounted the overhanging rim of sod at the top, paddle in her hand. The trail was there, pitted by yesterday's deluge.
And a man's footprints, fresh—and none else! She heard her voice screaming for him—And then heard another voice, that hunting cry, coming down the wind. She had been in time—! She started forward as the wolf appeared, racing toward her through the cool shadows.
"Pauguk!" she cried. "Pauguk!"
The animal's sharp nose lifted, her bloodshot eyes met the girl's. The lope dropped to a trot; she faltered, swung off—
"Pauguk! Come here!"
For an instant it was as though her command had struck through the roused impulses of the animal, as though Helen's control through years of captivity would hold now. In that fraction of time the wolf hesitated, one forefoot lifted, nose quirking, and then the fangs which had been covered in that brief period bared again and a ragged snarl of defiance came from the throat.
The dog stiffened, gathered and with a roar rushed toward her mistress to pass between her and the river and be again on that hot trail.
She came on, as the girl ran to head her off, gathering speed swiftly. And then the paddle swung hastily and the blade came down on the creature's head; it slivered and was useless as implement or weapon but it had turned the animal, swung her about and though she scrambled, raging against the impetus of the blow, she went over the rim of sod, down into the sand.
She struck her forefeet down stiffly, gasping as she
