The Wolf
by Sewell Peaslee Wright
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From across the lake, clearly and with eery distinctness through the stillness of the night, came the fearsome notes of a hungry timber wolf trailing some straining, panting deer.
Startled, I leaned forward, my pipe cold between my teeth, and listened to the hellish music of that tawny demon of the woods.
The eager, savage hunting cry changed suddenly to a demoniac pæan of victory, broke into a slavering yapping—and then the pulsing silence settled down on us once more.
"Got her!" I said, giving voice involuntarily to my thoughts.
George nodded gravely.
"The timbers seldom miss making their kill,” he remarked thoughtfully. "It's no wonder the people of olden times used to believe"
"Hello the camp!" The ringing, unexpected hail from the dark lake caused us both to start like frightened children. The weird hunting cry of a timber wolf does things to the nerves of even the men who spend all their days in the bush.
Our visitors proved to be two in number: the first a tall chap in the uniform of the Provincial Police, who introduced himself as Tieg McDonald, and a tall, slender man with a professional beard and black, restless eyes, whom McDonald introduced as Dr. Saunders.
It was instantly evident from their attitudes that the doctor was McDonald’s prisoner, but aside from the
