FREE FROM BONDS There was a low moaning of the wind in the spruce-tops as Kazan slunk off into the blackness and mystery of the forest.

For hours he lay near the camp, his red and blistered eyes gazing steadily at the tent wherein the terrible thing had happened a little while before.
He knew now what death was.

He could tell it farther than man.

He could smell it in the air.

And he knew that there was death all about him, and that he was the cause of it.