"They're scattered an' rangin' along wide," he said; "keepin' up with us an' lookin' for game at the same time.You see, they're sure of us, only they know they've got to wait to get us.In the meantime they're willin'
to pick up anythin' eatable that comes handy.""You mean they think they're sure of us," Henry objected pointedly.
But Bill ignored him."I seen some of them.They're pretty thin.They ain't had a bite in weeks, I reckon, outside of Fatty an' Frog an' Spanker; an'
there's so many of 'em that that didn't go far.They're remarkable thin.
Their ribs is like washboards, an' their stomachs is right up against their backbones.They're pretty desperate, I can tell you.They'll be goin' mad, yet, an' then watch out."A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, emitted a low, warning whistle.Bill turned and looked, then quietly stopped the dogs.To the rear, from around the last bend and plainly into view, on the very trail they had just covered, trotted a furry, slinking form.
Its nose was to the trail, and it trotted with a peculiar, sliding, effortless gait.When they halted, it halted, throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with nostrils that twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them.
"It's the she-wolf," Bill whispered.
The dogs had lain down in the snow, and he walked past them to join his partner at the sled.Together they watched the strange animal that had pursued them for days and that had already accomplished the destruction of half their dog-team.
After a searching scrutiny, the animal trotted forward a few steps.
This it repeated several times, till it was a short hundred yards away.
It paused, head up, close by a clump of spruce trees, and with sight and scent studied the outfit of the watching men.It looked at them in a strangely wistful way, after the manner of a dog; but in its wistfulness there was none of the dog affection.It was a wistfulness bred of hunger, as cruel as its own fangs, as merciless as the frost itself.
It was large for a wolf, its gaunt frame advertising the lines of an animal that was among the largest of its kind.
"Stands pretty close to two feet an' a half at the shoulders," Henry commented."An' I'll bet it ain't far from five feet long.""Kind of strange color for a wolf," was Bill's criticism." never seen a red wolf before.Looks almost cinnamon to me."The animal was certainly not cinnamon-colored.Its coat was the true wolf-coat.The dominant color was gray, and yet there was to it a faint reddish hue -- a hue that was baffling, that appeared and disappeared, that was more like an illusion of the vision, now gray, distinctly gray, and again giving hints and glints of a vague redness of color not classifiable in terms of ordinary experience.
"Looks for all the world like a big husky sled-dog," Bill said."I wouldn't be s'prised to see it wag its tail.
"Hello, you husky!" he called."Come here, you, whatever-your-name-is.""Ain't a bit scairt of you," Henry laughed.
