Ted rode away, and the wolf sat up on its haunches, and, lifting its head toward the mountains, gave a long, wailing, dismal howl.
"He knows he's done for," said Ted. "That's his death song."
"Let him do what he will," cried Stella.
Presently White Fang rose, tried to shake the rope from his neck, and when he found that he could not do so, got up and started on a trot toward the mountains.
"Follow him," cried Ted. "He's leading us home. Who can say what we will find there?"
They followed the wolf through coulees and over rocky ridges in the foothills, and through a cañon at the base of Sombrero Peak.
They climbed rocky paths, higher and higher up the side of the peak. White Fang's captors followed him silently. No more did he try to escape from the rope. He seemed to have given up hope, and was going home to die.
At last they arrived at the wall of a precipice, along which ran a narrow ledge just wide enough for their ponies to travel.
The path was well worn, as if many animals, including men, had passed that way.
Suddenly it dawned upon Ted where the wolf was leading.