THE MIRACLE Kazan lay mute and motionless, his gray nose between his forepaws, his eyes half closed.

A rock could have appeared scarcely less lifeless than he; not a muscle twitched; not a hair moved; not an eyelid quivered.

Yet every drop of the wild blood in his splendid body was racing in a ferment of excitement that Kazan had never before experienced; every nerve and fiber of his wonderful muscles was tense as steel wire.
Quarter-strain wolf, three-quarters "husky," he had lived the four years of his life in the wilderness.

He had felt the pangs of starvation.

He knew what it meant to freeze.