"Good," said Tawannears. "We will talk to the brothers there. Perhaps we can make a camp." "_Ja_," assented Corlaer. "Andt trees." His keen eyes had identified a scraggly patch of timber that clustered around a cleft in the side of the rock-mass. The moon shone on the snow-flecked, dark-green boughs of evergreens, but for the most part it was little better than dried-up bushes and dwarf growths. Yet such as it was it meant shelter and warmth again--if we could shake off that stealthy procession of ghostly figures behind us. They had quickened their pace as they sensed our approach to the rock. The howls became frankly savage and lustful. Close at hand I heard the snapping of frantic jaws. "Don't run," urged Tawannears' voice in my ear. "The man on snowshoes is at a disadvantage, brother. We have time." Time, but no more. In that cold that was so severe as to make it agony to touch fingers to steel I gained the mouth of the rock-cleft with the sweat dribbling down my back. And it was not the sweat of haste, but of fear. All around us the pattering of feet sounded like the swishing of women's skirts in the lightly packed snow. A half-circle of gray figures formed, red tongues lolling over flashing white teeth, steam rising from five-score panting chests. Eyes glinted like pricks of flame. They were silent--snapping at each other, yawning, _grr-rr-rrhing!_ softly, but no more baying their mournful challenge to the sky. They waited. And we waited. "If we build a fire----" I suggested in a whisper. "Wait, brother," Tawannears replied. "They fear a fire." I cursed impartially. "Are you for saving _their_ lives?" He stood in front of me, very erect, as Indian as old Nadoweiswe. "Otetiani forgets that we are of the totem of the Wolf. Their--" he gestured toward the gray half-circle--"emblem is on my chest. It is forbidden to slay the totem-beast of your Clan." "That may mean something to you, but certes, it little interests me," I said disagreeably. "It means much to Otetiani." His voice was stern. "Did not Otetiani become a member of the Wolf Clan? Will not what he does affect not only himself, but his Clan brothers? Be wise. Stay your hand. These gray brothers are curious and hungry, but they do not know us. We will tell them, and they will go away." I laughed shortly. "Try!" I invited him. "My gun is loaded, and I propose to climb a tree. It won't be comfortable, but I'll last as long as I can." "Foolishness," remarked Corlaer dispassionately. "You watch Tawannears. He knows." "What?" I jeered. "Der wolfs." As if in acknowledgment of this remark, Tawannears handed his musket to the Dutchman and opened his leather shirt across his chest. Then he stepped forward three paces, and faced the half-circle of gray, slavering shapes, with his arms flung wide. "Brothers!" he began. And I swear a whine as of interest rose from the half-circle.