Again the two little hunters hurried on through the silent, snow-filled
woods, a strange disquietude settling upon them as they felt they were
followed by unseen feet. Soon the feeling grew too strong to resist.
Noel with his bow ready, and a strange chill trickling like cold water
along his spine, was hiding behind a tree watching the back trail, when
a low exclamation from Mooka made him turn. There behind them, not ten
steps away, a huge white wolf was sitting quietly on his tail, watching
them with absorbed, silent intentness.
Fear and wonder, and swift memories of Old Tomah and the wolf that had
followed him when he was lost, swept over Noel in a flood. He rose
swiftly, the long bow bent, and again a deadly arrow cuddled softly
against his cheek; but there were doubts and fears in his eye till Mooka
caught his arm with a glad little laugh--
"My cub, little brother. See his ear, and oh, his tail! Watch um tail,
little brother." For at the first move the big wolf sprang alertly to
his feet, looked deep into Mooka's eyes with that intense, penetrating
light which serves a wild animal to read your very thoughts, and
instantly his great bushy tail was waving its friendly greeting.
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