Page:The Cross Pull.pdf/78



lash stood on a divide that overlooked the valley of the Little Bighorn. The BarT and his past life were a week behind and several hundred miles to the south. The ragged tear across his shoulder had healed and troubled him not at all. He was outlawed by men but did not care. The one thing that most concerned him now was the insistent desire to hear the missing note for which he had always listened among the sounds of the night. This was the mating moon of the wolves but he did not know.

He did know that the craving for that long sought note was a positive ache.

Then it came! From far down in the valley there sounded a call that set his veins on fire. He knew now what it was. The far off cry was that of a she wolf questing for a mate.

His whole body thrilled and tingled to the call. He had never used his voice yet he knew he must reply. He stood erect, his great head stretched forth but no sound came. The note drifted to