Sheila went suddenly weak. They were not _quite_ sane--those red eyes filled with sparks. The girl stepped back and sat down in her chair. She bent forward, pressed her hands flat together, palm to palm between her knees, and stared fixedly down at them. She made no secret of her desperate preoccupation. Miss Blake's face softened a little at this withdrawal. She came back to her place and resumed her spectacles. "I'll tell you why I'm snappy," she said presently. "I'm scared." This startled Sheila into a look. Miss Blake was moistening her lips. "That horse--you know--the coyotes got him. I guess he went down and they fell upon him. Well, he was to feed the dogs with until I could get my winter meat." "What do you mean?" "That's what I buy 'em for. Little old horses, for a couple of bits, and work 'em out and shoot 'em for dog-feed. Well, Sheila, when they're fed, they're dogs. But when they're starved--they're wolves ... And I can't think what's come to the elk this year. To-morrow I'll take out my little old gun." To-morrow and the next day and the next she took her gun and strapped on her shoes and went out for all day long into the cold. Each time she came back more exhausted and more fierce. Sheila would have her supper ready and waiting sometimes for hours. "The dogs have scared 'em off," said Miss Blake. "That must be the truth." She let the pack hunt for itself at night, and they came back sometimes with bloody jaws. But the prey must have been small, for they were not satisfied. They grew more and more gaunt and wolfish. They would howl for hours, wailing and yelping in ragged cadence to the stars. Table-scraps and brews of Indian meal vanished and left their bellies almost as empty as before. "And," said Miss Blake, "we got to eat, ourselves." "Hadn't we better go down to the post-office or to Rusty?" Sheila asked nervously. Miss Blake snapped at her. "Harness that team now? As much as your life is worth, Sheila! And we can't make it on foot. We'd drop in our tracks and freeze. If it comes to the worst we may have to try it, but--oh, I'll get something to-morrow." But to-morrow brought no better luck. During the hunting the dogs were left on their chains, and Sheila, through the lonely hours, would watch them through the window and could almost see the wolfishness grow in their deep, wild eyes. She would try to talk to them, pat them, coax them into doggy-ness. But day by day they responded more unwillingly. All but Berg: Berg stayed with her in the house, lay on her feet, leaned against her knee. He shared her meals. He was beginning to swing his heart from Miss Blake to her, and this was the second cause for strife.