zily down the nose of the canyon. After striking the bottom it followed a tiny stream which grew steadily larger, fed by springs and melting drifts.
After a mile of this Moran noted wolf tracks in the trail. It was padded thick with them.
“You old rascal, you’ve been holding out here for a long time,” he said.
Flash turned aside and started up through the down timber of the slope. Moran was not surprised. He had a sudden hope that Flash was mated and that he would find the den under a windfall or among the rocks at the base of the cliff. It was late for pups to remain at a den but wolves sometimes mated late. This was no place for a wolf den but it was possible.
Flash watched Moran. The man kept on as if he had not noticed. Flash whined after him. He ran around in front and once more turned up the slope.
“What’s up there, Flash?” asked Moran. “What do you want to show me?” He smiled as he thought of the consternation his appearance would occasion a she wolf if the den were really there. He turned and followed Flash up the slope.
He stopped and stared incredulously at the
