now sitting on their tails in a solemn circle; now howling all together as if demented, and anon listening intently in the vast silence, as if they heard or smelled or perhaps just felt the presence of some unknown thing that was hidden from human senses. And when I paddled ashore to 5 watch them, one ran swiftly past without heeding me, his nose outstretched, his eyes green as foxfire in the moonlight, while the others vanished like shadows among the black rocks, each intent on his unknown quest.

That is why I had come up from my warm bunk at mid- 10 night to sit alone on the taffrail, listening in the keen air to the howling that made me shiver, spite of myself, and watching in the vague moonlight to understand, if possible, what the brutes felt amid the primal silence and desolation.

A long interval of profound stillness had passed, and I 15 could just make out the circle of dogs sitting on their tails on the open shore, when suddenly, faint and far away, an unearthly howl came rolling down the mountains, 0000000ow-wow-wow! a long wailing crescendo beginning softly, like a sound in a dream, and swelling into a roar that waked 20 the sleeping echoes and set them jumping like startled goats from crag to crag. Instantly the huskies answered, every dog breaking out into indescribable frenzied wailings, as a collie responds in agony to certain chords of music that stir all the old wolf nature sleeping within him. For five 25 minutes the uproar was appalling; then it ceased abruptly and the huskies ran wildly here and there among the rocks.

From far away an answer, an echo perhaps of their wailing, or, it may be, the cry of the dogs of St. Margaret's, came ululating over the deep. Then silence again, vast and unnatural, settling over the gloomy land like a winding sheet.

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As the unknown howl trembled faintly in the air Noel, who had slept undisturbed through all the clamor of the dogs, stirred uneasily by the foremast. As it deepened and swelled into a roar that filled all the night, he threw off the caribou skin and came aft where I was watching alone. 10 "That is Wayeeses. I know that wolf; he followed me one time, oh, a long, long while ago," he whispered. And taking my marine glasses he stood beside me, watching intently.

There was another long period of waiting; our eyes 15 grew weary, filled as they were with shadows and uncertainties in the moonlight, and we turned our ears to the hills, waiting with strained, silent expectancy for the challenge. Suddenly Noel pointed upward and my eye caught something moving swiftly on the crest of the mountain. 20 A shadow with the slinking trot of a wolf glided along the ridge between us and the moon. Just in front of us it stopped, leaped upon a big rock, turned a pointed nose up to the sky, sharp and clear as a fir top in the moonlight, and—ooooooo-ow-wow-wow! the terrible howl of a great 25 white wolf tumbled down on the husky dogs and set them howling as if possessed. No doubt now of their queer

actions which had puzzled me for hours past. The wild wolf had called and the tame wolves waked to answer. Before my dull ears had heard a rumor of it they were crazy with the excitement. Now every chord in their wild 5 hearts was twanging its thrilling answer to the leader's summons, and my own heart awoke and thrilled as it never did before to the call of a wild beast.

For an hour or more the old wolf sat there, challenging his degenerate mates in every silence, calling the tame to 10 be wild, the bound to be free again, and listening gravely to the wailing answer of the dogs, who refused with groanings, as if dragging themselves away from overmastering temptation. Then the shadow vanished from the big rock on the mountain, the huskies fled away wildly 15 from the shore, and only the sob of the breakers broke the stillness.

From Northern Trails

the Labrador': the northeast coast of the great peninsula of Labrador belongs to Newfoundland and is usually spoken of as "the Labrador " by the inhabitants of that region. The interior of the peninsula belongs to the Dominion of Canada. -punt: a flat-bottomed boat. -luffed : turned the bow of the boat toward the wind. — jib sheet: the rope controlling the small forward sail or jib. tickle: a narrow, difficult entrance to a harbor. tide rip: rapids caused by the rush of the tide. flakes: frames or platforms for drying codfish.foxfire: the phosphorescent light given out by decayed timber. —taffrail: the rail around the stern of a vessel. primal silence: the silence of the beginning of the world. - huskies: sledge dogs. ululating (ŭl'u lå ting): with a howling, wailing sound. — aft: toward the stern of a boat. Way ee'ses: the white wolf, the strong one. ― degenerate: less worthy, having lost physical or moral qualities.

ALONG THE DOCKS

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS

GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS (1824-1892) was an American essayist and orator, distinguished for his integrity and courage as well as for his charming literary style. He was born in Providence, Rhode Island, and many hours of his boyhood were spent upon the wharves of that city.

My earliest remembrances are of a long range of old, 5 half-dilapidated stores, red brick stores with steep wooden roofs and stone window frames and door frames, which stood upon docks built as if for immense trade with all quarters of the globe.

Generally there were only a few sloops moored to the 10 tremendous posts, which I fancied could easily hold fast a Spanish Armada in a tropical hurricane. But sometimes a great ship, an East Indiaman, with rusty, seamed, blistered sides and dingy sails, came slowly moving up the harbor, with an air of indolent self-importance and con- 15 sciousness of superiority, which inspired me with profound respect. If the ship had ever chanced to run down a rowboat or a sloop or any specimen of smaller craft, I should only have wondered at the temerity of any floating thing in crossing the path of such supreme majesty.

How the stately monster had been fattening upon foreign spoils! How it had gorged itself (such galleons did never seem to me of the feminine gender) with the luscious

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