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London, Jack, 1876-1916

"The Son of the Wolf"

Madeline looked
up, casually, with little interest.
'May--may I have the next round dance with you?' the King
stuttered.
The wife of the King glanced at her card and inclined her head.

An Odyssey of the North
The sleds were singing their eternal lament to the creaking of
the harness and the tinkling bells of the leaders; but the men
and dogs were tired and made no sound. The trail was heavy with
new-fallen snow, and they had come far, and the runners, burdened
with flint-like quarters of frozen moose, clung tenaciously to
the unpacked surface and held back with a stubbornness almost
human.
Darkness was coming on, but there was no camp to pitch that
night. The snow fell gently through the pulseless air, not in
flakes, but in tiny frost crystals of delicate design. It was
very warm--barely ten below zero--and the men did not mind.
Meyers and Bettles had raised their ear flaps, while Malemute Kid
had even taken off his mittens.
The dogs had been fagged out early in the after noon, but they
now began to show new vigor. Among the more astute there was a
certain restlessness--an impatience at the restraint of the
traces, an indecisive quickness of movement, a sniffing of snouts
and pricking of ears.


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