It was one of those great moments in which anything might happen, and when the merest accident might decide. Dusty Star was fully aware that the lives of Kiopo and himself hung trembling in the balance.
Bristling with excitement, the wolves drew nearer in. And still, rigid and motionless, Kiopo and the White Wolf faced each other with defiance in their eyes.
Suddenly there was a sound, half-howl, half-cry, and in the tense moment something seemed to snap. Partly running, partly leaping, with his body crouched, Dusty Star, as he gave tongue, flung himself into the centre of the ring.
The White Wolf bared his teeth and snarled with his eyes upon him. Kiopo also started in astonishment. Was the Little Brother gone mad?
If what followed was madness, it was the most amazing madness the wolves had ever seen. Leaping, bending, running, turning his body in every direction, Dusty Star danced a wolf-dance the like of which the Bad Lands had never known. What mysterious impulse at the very last moment, and in the nick of time, had suddenly come upon him, and taught him what to do, he could have told no more than the wild creatures themselves. And as he danced, he barked short sharp wolf-notes that stabbed the air like knives.
They watched him. He wanted them to watch. They had never seen a human being dance the wolf-dance before; nor were they likely to again. It was the wolf-dance, and yet it was not the wolf-dance. It was something more. What the something more was, Dusty Star himself could not have explained. But he knew that the power that was secretly hidden within him was coming out. It was that strange thing which had been with him as a child, and which, during the long days and nights in the Carboona, had grown stronger moon by moon.
He danced now, as he had danced once before in his grandmother's tepee when she had been ill. There were the same wild antics; the same cunning movements of his feet and hands. Only then he had danced as a splendid joke. Now, he did it seriously, as a thing that mattered enormously: he danced with his very soul.
And as he danced, apparently oblivious of everything except his own movements, he felt the wolf-mind surge towards him, like waters under the wind.
They were coming! They were coming! The wolf-tide was rising within him, without him. The moon drew it, the dance, the wild notes that sobbed and gasped in his throat! They could not help themselves any more than he could help himself. They were driven by a power stronger than themselves. As he danced he saw the great ring of dusky bodies, and glimmering eyes—the white wolf and Kiopo in the centre—saw them as one sees things in a dream.
The wolves watched him as if spellbound. Then one on the outside of the circle threw back his head and howled. Another answered him from the opposite side. A third took up the call. Soon the whole pack was giving tongue; and one of the big wolf choruses went thundering out for leagues along the hollow land.