hills like mist. The dogs grew gaunt and howled all night, the
babies cried, the women became hollow-eyed and peevish.

"Then it was that Itika decided to go hunting over the saw-tooth
range which formed the edge of the world. They tried to dissuade
him, saying it was certain death because a pack of monstrous white
wolves, taller than the moose and swifter than the eagle, was
known to range these mountains, running madly in chase. Always, on
clear, cold nights, could be seen the flashing of the moonbeams
from their gleaming hungry sides, and although many hunters had
crossed the passes in other years, they never returned, for the
pack slew them.

"Nothing could deter Itika, however, so he threaded his way up
through the range and, night coming, burrowed into a drift to
sleep in his caribou-skin. Peering out into the darkness, he saw
the flashing lights a thousand times brighter than ever before.
The whole heavens were ablaze with shifting streamers that raced
and writhed back and forth in wild revel. Listening, he heard the
hiss and whine of dry snow under the feet of the pack, and a
distant noise as of rushing winds, although the air was deathly
still.

"With daylight, he proceeded through the range, till he came out
above a magnificent valley. Descending the slope, he entered a
forest of towering spruce, while on all sides the snow was
trampled with tracks as wide as a snow-shoe. There came to him a
noise which, as he proceeded, increased till it filled the woods.
It was a frightful din, as though a thousand wolves were howling
with the madness of the kill. Cautiously creeping nearer, he found