INTO THE NORTH Wonderful days followed for Kazan.

He missed the forests and deep snows.
He missed the daily strife of keeping his team-mates in trace, the yapping at his heels, the straight long pull over the open spaces and the barrens.

He missed the "Koosh--koosh--Hoo-yah!" of the driver, the spiteful snap of his twenty-foot caribou-gut whip, and that yelping and straining behind him that told him he had his followers in line.

But something had come to take the place of that which he missed.

It was in the room, in the air all about him, even when the girl or his master was not near.