THE ARRIVAL OF KIOPO WAS NOW KNOWN TO EVERY HUSKY IN THE CAMP, AND EACH HUSKY HATED HIM FROM THE BOTTOM OF HIS HUSKY HEART
Kiopo was now three parts grown, and was considerably larger than the ordinary wolf of his age. For the average full-grown dog, he was more than a match. The few that had ventured to fight him singly had learnt that to their cost. But against a combined attack of the whole husky rabble, he was naturally powerless. And owing to the peculiar make-up of the general husky mind, you never could tell from one moment to another when the rabble would unite. He knew himself surrounded by enemies. Go where he would, hackles were raised, lips curled back, and glaring eyes were fastened upon him. It was small wonder if, as week after week went by, he became nervous, irritable, and depressed.
Among all his foes, the one of whom he stood most in dread, was a big dog called Stickchi. He was a surly, sour-tempered, evil-eyed brute whom none of the other huskies dared to face, but whom they nevertheless regarded as one of the leaders of the pack. Stealing, fighting, and bullying were accomplishments which had earned for Stickchi this position of authority, and he took a constant delight in showing his power. It was he who had led the attack on Kiopo's arrival in the camp, and now he hated him with a murderous hatred. Kiopo returned the hate in full, though he stood too much in awe of the great bully to venture to attack him when they met. The principal thing that enraged Stickchi was that, while the other huskies at once got out of his way as their acknowledged master, Kiopo only avoided him at the last possible moment after he had fully expressed his feelings by drawing back his lips from his dangerous teeth in a defiant snarl. Then, when infuriated beyond measure by this open defiance of his authority, the bully charged his foe, Kiopo, leaping lightly aside, would seem to send his supple body floating through the air, and land a dozen feet away, only to crouch for a new spring, and bare those evil-looking teeth as before.
Yet in spite of his defiance, Kiopo harboured a great uneasiness at the back of his mind, for his keen wolf-intelligence told him that sooner or later, the day must come when the contest for mastery could be no longer postponed, and that the struggle would be a fight to the death.
Dusty Star, for all his vigilance, did not fully understand. He could not think why it was that Kiopo generally kept so close to the tepee, and rarely ventured any distance away unless he went with him. This was because Stickchi was as cunning as he was cowardly. Whenever he saw Kiopo with any one of the family he did not attempt to attack him, but contented himself with growling deep in his hairy chest, and looking very ugly. Like many other bullies, he was easily frightened, and he never forgot one particular experience when Kiopo had been busily gnawing an elkbone behind the tepee. Stickchi had made up his mind to have the bone. Believing that no one saw him, he had crouched on his stomach in his most cunning manner, and had begun a stealthy game of stalking. If Kiopo had not been so engrossed in his bone no amount of Stickchi's artfulness could have caught him unawares. But the treasure had such flavoury bits of very high meat attaching to it that, for once, he was completely off his guard. So, bit by bit, Kiopo blissfully gnawed, and, bit by bit, Stickchi's stomach drew nearer.
There is nothing much more exciting than to stalk something that is already stalking something else. And so, when Dusty Star, returning from the other side of the camp, came up quietly and saw the game that was being played, he joined in with delight. Inch by inch the artful Stickchi's stomach trailed elaborately over the ground, and, inch by inch, Dusty Star gained upon him.
At last there was only a tuft of wild turnip between Stickchi and his prey, and then open country for at least six feet.
Hardly daring to breathe, Dusty Star gathered his body together very tightly. In his right hand was a heavy stick. Stickchi also was making himself very tight, preparing for the final rush. He wriggled his body slightly, bracing his hind feet firmly against the ground. There was a second's pause before he uncoiled the powerful spring that was himself, and hurled his body on his unprepared victim. In that momentary pause a human whirlwind loosed itself on him from behind, and a heavy blow descended on his head.
With a yelp of fear and pain he bounded aside, twisting half round as he did so, to see what had attacked him. Quick as lightning, Dusty Star struck again, this time in the very middle of the husky's back.
The bully did not wait for another blow. Yelping with terror, he turned with his tail between his legs, and fled across the camp for his life.
After this lesson he observed Running Wolf's tepee from a respectful distance. But it only served to increase his enmity towards Kiopo, and he nursed black revenge at the bottom of his evil heart.