Where are the wolves ?" At that moment the night wind wafted through the forest a long, haunting mourn.

The calves shifted uneasily; the dogs raised sharp noses to sniff the air, and Rea, settling back against a tree, cried out: "Ho! Ho!" Again the savage sound, a keen wailing note with the hunger of the northland in it, broke the cold silence.

"You'll see a pack of real wolves in a minute," said Rea.

Soon a swift pattering of feet down a forest slope brought him to his feet with a curse to reach a brawny hand for his rifle.

White streaks crossed the black of the tree trunks; then indistinct forms, the color of snow, swept up, spread out and streaked to and fro.