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