Brothers of Peril

of pain. The dark spruces stood above them, with the first shadows of night in their branches; and the western sky was stained red where the sun had been. Twice the wolf dropped his anta

ess. His fangs gleamed like ivory between the scarlet jaws and black lips. A shimme

ering on bent legs, he went down to the river and washed his mangled arm and shoulder in the cool water. The shock of it cleared his brain and steadied his eyes. He waded in

low down on the hilltops, still lightened the west. A purple band hung above it like a belt of magic wampum-t

o heed. He returned to the dead wolf, and set about the skinning of it with his rude blade. He worked with skill and speed. Soon head and pelt were cle

The voices of the rapids smote across the air with a deeper note. As the boy moved quietly along, sharp eyes flamed at him, and sharp ears were pricked to listen. Forms silent as shadows faded away from his path, an

les, bark, and caribou hides, stood about the meadow. In front of each wigwam burned a cooking-fire, for this was a land of much wood. The meadow was almost an island, having the river on two sides and a shallow l

t achievement about him. Two women, who were broiling meat at the fire, looked from the shaggy, blood-stained pelt to the stalwart stripling. They cri

ed, "what warrior

y man-name," d

clinging to him, she called him by a score of great names. A stalwart man, the chief of the village, strode from the dark interior of the nearest wi

the women. "Wolf Slayer," he repeated;

, became, at the age of fourteen years

ations or tribes. Hate had set them apart from one another, breaking the old bond of blood. Each tribe was divided into numerous villages. The island w

d scanty, and unadorned by flaming feathers of hawk and sea-bird. The snows of eighty winters had drifted against the walls of his perishable but ever defiant lodges, and the suns of eighty summers had faded the pigments of his totem of the great Black Bear. Tho

ad of about Wolf Slayer's age. He was slight of figure and dark of skin. His name was Ouenwa. He was a dreamer of strange things, and a maker of songs. He and Wolf Slayer sat together by the fire. Wolf Slayer held his wounded arm ever under the visitor's eyes, and talked endlessly of his deed. For a long

d kill a pack of wolves, or eve

t," replied Wolf Slayer,

fire," said Ouenwa, "and it whistles alto

the other, sullenly. Ouenwa's answer was a smile a

He had grown somewhat moody in the last year. He gazed away to the forest-clad, mist-wreathed capes ahead, and heeded not the high piping of his dead son's child. His mind was busy with thoughts of the events of th

ts last echo. My command over my people slips like a frozen thong

cross the brown current of the river. Sandpipers, on down-bent wings, skimmed the pebbly shore. A kingfisher flashed his burnished feather

ing name for the boy who ki

ly. His thin face was sombre wit

is is no empty cry. B