Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 164: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

146 ingratitude had wrecked his faith in all dog-kind. Yet another example of King’s depravity came to light. deserting his master in his hour of direst need, he had eaten most of the scanty stock of food remaining. Shorty found himself with only about half a hard dry bannock and some tea. Fhis last discovery had at least the good effect of rousing the little man to action. He was not of the kind who lie down under the blows of circumstance. The knowledge that he was on the verge of death from star- vation even if he did not perish from exhaus- tion and exposure, nerved him to one last effort. He would get up and make a last try for the post even if he fell and died in the snow. The wound in his leg was better, the in- flammation had gone down considerably, though his frozen foot was hideously pain- ful. Moreover, the fever of the previous days had abated, though he felt pitiably weak. He brewed himself some strong tea, atea portion of his half bannock, bound uphis leg carefully, and cutting himself a stout willow staff, took the trail. He left behind him the carriole, his blan- kets, even hisrifle. Hisaxehe had totake. He needed it to cut firewood, and it would be his only weapon in his last fight if he were again attacked by wolves. For the wolves were back again. A gaunt brute loped across the skyline into some scrub just as he set out; a prick-eared gray head thrust up from behind a rock to -his right. All that afternoon he stumbled on his way, stopping often for short rests. The low sun sank, but still the blessed chinook swept across the waste. While it blew he would not at any rate freeze to death. Had the temperature been below zero, death would have claimed him early. Then a big silver moon swung up and gave him good light to travel by. He decided it was useless to camp for the night; he must press on until he reached the post, which could not be many miles away now. Either that or fall exhausted or be pounced on by the wolves. There were wolves everywhere now, and his im- agination created another of every inky shadow the moon cast upon the snow. They began to close in upon him. No longer did they keep at a distance, they kept pace with him composedly at a few Not content with Adventure yards distance. There were wolves on ‘the skyline waiting for him, and when he looked back there were wolves slinking along in his very footprints. They did not need to attack. They had merely to bide their time and let their prey wear himself out in vain efforts to escape. He was moving very, very slowly, hardly moving at all now, and his tired eyes were playing him unholy tricks. It was not only his terrifying pursuers who were endued with motion, the landscape expanded and contracted, stretching itself out to infinity under the rays of the moon or rushing to- gether in one shapeless blur, the low hills climbed on each other’s backs to get a look at him, and the skyline waved like a length of water weed in a swift running stream. He came to the foot of a ridge. It was scarcely a hundred feet high, but it seemed to him to shoot up to the stars like an im- passable mountain barrier. He sank down wearily in the snow and asked himself seriously whether it was really worth while to attempt such an arduous climb. The wolves formed a ring around him. They made no sound, but every second that passed found the ring a little narrower. He was too tired even to be afraid, but the indomitable fighting spirit in him still lived. He raised a feeble shout and shook his axe at them. They drew back a little, and he got dizzily to his feet and stumbled stubbornly up the slope. But now he felt that the end had really come. A huge wolf, a lop-sided, ungainly, lurching brute, was coming slowly but pur- posefully straight at him, and behind him at a little distance came a compact dark mass that could only be the body of the pack, He gave a little grim laugh. Yes, this was the end, but he would fight it out. He went down on one knee the better to brace himself for the onset, his axe poised for his last blow. The great wolf still lopped grotesquely toward him. | He measured the distance with his eye. He could not be quite sure since everything was so blurred and hazy, but he thought another bound would bring the beast within striking distance. He summoned all his failing energies, and swung his axe upward. “Come on, you,” he cried. But the blow never fell, for on a sudden a man’s voice answered him. ‘Hello, there, hello.” COMIGDIOOKSEEO