164 THE BIG CANOE

with snarls and sharp cries of rage and pain as the
pack fought over the body of the dead goat.

Fortunately for Kadonah, the moon had risen and
was shining so brightly that he was able to climb
swiftly up over boulders, over fallen logs, up steep
ledges, that he would not have dared to climb in day-
light. Higher and higher he made his way, until at
last he reached a wide ledge from which he could
look down over the entire valley, where a billowy
blanket of silver fog was creeping slowly in from the
sea.

Kadonah sighed with relief. Perhaps the fog had
arrived in time to conceal the glow of his fire. Per-
haps he was still safe from pursuit. Safe or not, he
was so desperately tired that he dragged himself back
from the edge of the cliff and quickly fell asleep, the
howls of the wolf pack still ringing in his ears.

When he woke in the morning he was numb with
cold, but the sun was shining brightly above the fog
in the valley which had already thinned in several
places, revealing the river beneath. Even as he
thumped his chilled body and pounded his feet upon
the ledge, the gray mist lifted, disclosing his father’s
village. Smoke was already curling upward from the
morning fires, and dark forms were moving to and
fro in front of the houses.

“If I could only be there!” Kadonah cried so
loudly that a white-headed eagle wheeling above him,
heard and veered away in alarm. “Why did I use my