Every hair in his body was suddenly electrified into life.

What he scented was not the scent of a rabbit, a marten or a porcupine.

Fang and claw had climbed the path ahead of him.

And then, coming faintly to him from the top of the rock, he heard sounds which sent him up with a terrible whining cry.

When he reached the summit he saw in the white moonlight a scene that stopped him for a single moment.
Close to the edge of the sheer fall to the rocks, fifty feet below, Gray Wolf was engaged in a death-struggle with a huge gray lynx.