Then it was cold.Here was no warm side of a tepee against which to snuggle.The frost was in his feet, and he kept lifting first one fore-foot and then the other.He curved his bushy tail around to cover them, and at the same time he saw a vision.There was nothing strange about it.Upon his inward sight was impressed a succession of memory-pictures.He saw the camp again, the tepees, and the blaze of the fires.He heard the shrill voices of the women, the gruff basses of the men, and the snarling of the dogs.He was hungry, and he remembered pieces of meat and fish that had been thrown him.Here was no meat, nothing but a threatening and inedible silence.
His bondage had softened him.Irresponsibility had weakened him.He had forgotten how to shift for himself.The night yawned about him.His senses, accustomed to the hum and bustle of the camp, used to the continuous impact of sights and sounds, were now left idle.There was nothing to do, nothing to see nor hear.They strained to catch some interruption of the silence and immobility of nature.They were appalled by inaction and by the feel of something terrible impending.
He gave a great start of fright.A colossal and formless something was rushing across the field of his vision.It was a tree-shadow flung by the moon, from whose face the clouds had been brushed away.Reassured, he whimpered softly; then he suppressed the whimper for fear that it might attract the attention of the lurking dangers.
A tree, contracting in the cool of the night, made a loud noise.It was directly above him.He yelped in his fright.A panic seized him, and he ran madly toward the village.He knew an overpowering desire for the protection and companionship of man.In his nostrils was the smell of the camp-smoke.In his ears the camp sounds and cries were ringing loud.He passed out of the forest and into the moonlit open where were no shadows nor darknesses.But no village greeted his eyes.He had forgotten.The village had gone away.