He came then to the foot of a rough ridge, and turned up out of the swamp to the top of it.

The stars and the moon were nearer to him there, and on the other side of the ridge he looked down upon a great sweeping plain, with a frozen lake glistening in the moonlight, and a white river leading from it off into timber that was neither so thick nor so black as that in the swamp.
And then every muscle in his body grew tense, and his blood leaped.

From far off in the plain there came a cry.

It was _his_ cry--the wolf-cry.
His jaws snapped.

His white fangs gleamed, and he growled deep in his throat.