THE MOON WHEN THINGS WALK
By signs that were unmistakable, Dusty Star knew that a new, strange restlessness had invaded Kiopo's bones. It was not that he watched the forest borders with suspicion, as before, for an invisible foe. That uneasiness might be there, but it seemed for the present to be swallowed up in a deeper restlessness which preyed upon him day and night. After Dusty Star's return from his Carboona excursion, Kiopo had regarded him with a reproving eye. It was useless for Dusty Star to pretend that nothing had happened. Kiopo never met the Lone Wolf; and Goshmeelee bulging with berries did not blab. Nevertheless, Kiopo knew that the Little Brother had taken the law into his own hand, and that trouble was on the way.
Kiopo could not rest. The Fall had come, and, with the Fall, its wandering impulses. An unquiet itch had got into the skin of things, and into the heart of things a strange desire. Every wild creature felt it, each in its own degree. The Cariboo were off on their vague journeyings that took them half across the world. It was the moon when things appeared and vanished; the moon when travelling voices came out of the north, when a thin sleep covered the earth by day, and when things went out walking at the falling of the night.
Kiopo also walked.
Where he went Dusty Star could not tell. He watched and watched; but Kiopo always eluded him at the coming-on of dusk. Mere hunting did not account for it. The kills he made were not numerous. Often he brought back what barely sufficed for their needs. It was only too clear that something beyond mere hunting occupied his mind.
What made the thing still more peculiar was that, wherever it was Kiopo went, there he also howled. Night after night, about an hour after sundown, Dusty Star would hear the familiar voice raised in melancholy wailing in the distance, as if it resounded from the sides of a gorge.
And as he lay awake, listening to the woeful sound, he would hear, ever and anon, dark voices out of the north, that came clanging above the hollow woods, and making the silence quake. And though he told himself that it was only the first flights of the geese, he could not get rid of the feeling that other voices went along the middle sky, and that the dark was haunted with wings.
At last he determined to discover where it was that Kiopo went to do his howling, and what happened when he howled. So, one evening, when the wolf, as was his custom, slunk into the shadow of the woods, Dusty Star, on noiseless moccasins, disappeared also. He kept Kiopo in sight for some time without his knowledge. Then, when at last his form became indistinguishable in the gloom, he followed as best he could the direction he believed he had taken.
Due south-west from the camp, a high spur of rock jutted from the mountain at the side of an immense gorge. It struck boldly out like an ocean promontory; and on nights when the wind was high, it would have been easy to imagine that the deepening roar which rose from the straining spruce woods beneath was the welter and crash of a rising sea.
Dusty Star had seen the place several times in the day-time, and it struck him now that it would be a likely spot for Kiopo to choose for his nightly performance. The trail thither lay through thick forest and was not an easy one to follow. But the boy had a strong sense of direction, and every time he reached an open space between the trees, he took his bearings from the stars. As he went, he listened intently for the first notes of Kiopo's singing, and before he had travelled half the distance, they came. In the deep stillness of the night, the call sounded comparatively close. There could be little mistake as to its direction, which was either that of the promontory, or some spot very near it.
Seven times he heard the cry, each time clearer than before: then there was a long silence, disturbed by not a single sound. Through the breathless stillness, Dusty Star continued his secret advance. By the last howl he guessed that he must be drawing very near to his goal; yet that very nearness made it necessary for him to use the greatest caution in order not to give Kiopo the alarm. Soon he saw a huge mass of rocks loom blackly between him and the rising moon.
He did not dare to attempt to climb its almost perpendicular sides; but, skirting the base of it, worked his way up the mountain slope so that he might reach it from above. He arrived at last at the beginning of the promontory, and, lying flat on his stomach, looked about him. On all sides, the rocks took strange appearances, like humped beasts, crouched, and watching. Yet nothing stirred, nothing breathed. Of Kiopo there was not a sign. In front of him, a large boulder hid the end of the promontory from sight. Dusty Star worked himself slowly round it, foot by foot. When he was half-way round, he stopped; for there, at the extreme end of the rocks, with his back towards him, he saw Kiopo sitting motionless, as he gazed out into the enormous night. Then, he saw him throw up his head; and again the long, throbbing howl made the gorges ring.
Dusty Star had heard howling many times before. Since his earliest infancy, the throats of wolf, fox and coyote had haunted his ears like nursery song-books with ancient, terrible tunes. But to-night, the tune seemed to gather a new terror, and made his pulses throb. His first impulse was to call to Kiopo so that he might not do it again. Only this was one of those times when, in spite of the intimate comradeship which bound them together, he stood a little in awe of that mysterious wolf-mind which was in Kiopo, and which seemed to understand the stars. In the breathless stillness which followed the cry, Dusty Star listened to the quickened beating of his own heart.
Once again, Kiopo howled. This time, he was answered. From the hollow gloom of the forest below there came a deep-toned "woof" that was half a roar.
Dusty Star saw Kiopo immediately stiffen into attention, as he turned his head in the direction of the threatening sound. Owing to his position he could not see what the wolf saw, but Kiopo's attitude told him that he was watching something that had come into sight from among the trees. His whole body was tingling with excitement. He cast all further secrecy aside, and ran towards Kiopo. The wolf turned quickly, and growled. As Dusty Star fully understood, the growl was one of disapproval, not of anger. It said plainly: "You are not wanted. You are very much in the way."
Dusty Star knew, when too late, that this was true. Yet he was glad he had come. Kiopo could not keep this thing secret, as he had kept others. He would see what was to be seen: whatever the danger was, Kiopo and he would meet it together.
Again Kiopo lifted his voice; but this time it was no weary howl, making melancholy echoes: it was a short, deep bark, like an explosion.
Another "woof," rather higher pitched than the first, rose angrily from below. The enemy had accepted Kiopo's challenge for the fight. A few minutes afterwards, a great, grey timber wolf came stalking down the promontory with the battle-light in his eyes.
As soon as he appeared, Dusty Star realized in a flash that they had met before, and that he was once again face to face with the giant wolf from whose murderous attack Goshmeelee had rescued him. For the Terror of the Carboona, Goshmeelee had been more than a match. But Kiopo, mighty fighter as he was, was not Goshmeelee. As he watched, an awful dread began to creep into Dusty Star's heart.
And now Kiopo prepared for what he knew must come. The first thing he did was to give Dusty Star a butt with his head, which said clearly enough: "Get well out of the way."
Dusty Star was not so foolish as to disobey, knowing well that he could be of little use to Kiopo as soon as the fight began. So he scrambled hastily to the top of a high rock where he could watch what happened without being in danger.
On came the big grey stranger, walking stiffly, his tail waving slowly from side to side. As he advanced, he growled deeply. Kiopo awaited him without moving, every muscle tense, while he measured his enemy's points and probable strength. The Lone Wolf came to a stand, and for a few moments the wolves stood facing each other at the distance of a spring.
