"They're scattered an' rangin' along wide," he said; "keepin' up with us an' lookin' for game at the same time.You see, they're sure of us, only they know they've got to wait to get us.In the meantime they're willin'
to pick up anythin' eatable that comes handy.""You mean they think they're sure of us," Henry objected pointedly.
But Bill ignored him."I seen some of them.They're pretty thin.They ain't had a bite in weeks, I reckon, outside of Fatty an' Frog an' Spanker; an'
there's so many of 'em that that didn't go far.They're remarkable thin.
Their ribs is like washboards, an' their stomachs is right up against their backbones.They're pretty desperate, I can tell you.They'll be goin' mad, yet, an' then watch out."A few minutes later, Henry, who was now travelling behind the sled, emitted a low, warning whistle.Bill turned and looked, then quietly stopped the dogs.To the rear, from around the last bend and plainly into view, on the very trail they had just covered, trotted a furry, slinking form.
Its nose was to the trail, and it trotted with a peculiar, sliding, effortless gait.When they halted, it halted, throwing up its head and regarding them steadily with nostrils that twitched as it caught and studied the scent of them.
"It's the she-wolf," Bill whispered.
The dogs had lain down in the snow, and he walked past them to join his partner at the sled.Together they watched the strange animal that had pursued them for days and that had already accomplished the destruction of half their dog-team.