Gray Wolf's mate was absent. There was none to defend him and, though he would not have given up easily, there could have been but one ending to the fight had not a strange interruption occurred. The young wolf was suddenly hurled backward as from a catapult, his neck being broken as he struck the ground, while upon the rock beside the old leader appeared a great white wolf, fangs bared and eyes glowing with savage fire. For a moment the pack stood aghast. Never had such a wolf been seen in all the Little Vermilion country. With tails between their legs they retreated to a safe distance where they paused, uncertain whether to stay or to flee. The white wolf, however, turned scornfully from them and looked down at the wounded leader. Gray Wolf did not cower, nor did his staunch heart fail him. He tried to rise, but the movement started the flow of blood afresh and the next moment he sank back dead. The white wolf gazed at him; then, standing upon the rock, he raised his muzzle to the stars and sent out a long mournful howl which carried over miles of dark wilderness and seemed the very embodiment of the night and the solitude. Without a sound the pack slunk away, scattering to the four winds just as the first streaks of dawn appeared in the east. A short time later the white wolf might have been seen before the entrance to his den, high among the ledges. He stood as if carved from the rock at his back, while the sky grew rosy with the gleams of the rising sun which drove the darkness before them and made rainbows of the mist that shrouded the cataract. Before the sun itself appeared above the horizon, the wolf had vanished into the dark cave. Dusk of the following day found him once more abroad. He descended the mountain and swiftly threaded the wilderness until he came to the rock upon which Gray Wolf had perished. Here he stationed himself and as darkness fell, he proudly raised his head, sending out over the wilderness a full, deep-throated rallying-call, the like of which the forest had never known. Lesser creatures of the wilderness shivered with fear, cowering in their burrows for some time before daring to venture forth. One of the lynxes which had so severely wounded the old leader heard the challenge and, though it struck fear into even his savage heart, he stole soundlessly forward until he could see the beast upon the rock. But at sight of the snow-white wolf he shrank back in utter terror and attempted to steal away. Unfortunately for him the eyes of the white wolf had pierced his hiding-place and in a moment he was hurled from his feet by the force of the attack. The lynx fought but feebly, seemingly benumbed by the strange apparition, and in a few minutes his limp form was stretched upon the ground. As for his mate, she too cowered before the sight of the white wolf and fled afar, never to return. So was Gray Wolf avenged and his avenger, once more mounting the rock, sent his cry of victory echoing over the wilderness.