They followed down the narrow valley of the Cache La Poudre, bedding down each day far back in the hills.
Silver felt great confidence in the judgment of this mate of hers, yet there were certain habits of his which she could never learn to view complacently. Often at night he went close to the dwellings of men, even sniffing around their corrals and barns. Flash knew that men were nearly powerless in darkness and their eyes very weak at night but Silver only knew that the man scent meant death for wolves and she scrupulously avoided it. Then too, meat was meat to Silver but Flash killed only beef. His greatest pride had been the charge of handling Moran’s horses and now he never would turn his teeth against a horse.
The cross currents were still at work in Flash. In the old days he had longed for the wild; now that he was wild he felt the call to be near man. When with Moran his dreams had been of the phantom shapes of the wolf pack. Now his dreams were all of men. Most often he was back in the Land of Many Rivers with Moran and always in his dreams his former master was associated with the girl—the wonderful creature he had seen but once.
