Old memories were coming upon him fast, and he was stirring to them as of old he stirred to the realities of which they were the shadows.

He had done this thing before, somewhere in that other and dimly remembered world, and he was doing it again, now, running free in the open, the unpacked earth underfoot, the wide sky overhead.
They stopped by a running stream to drink, and, stopping, Buck remembered John Thornton.

He sat down.

The wolf started on toward the place from where the call surely came, then returned to him, sniffing noses and making actions as though to encourage him.

But Buck turned about and started slowly on the back track.