“ ‘You have saved my life. Now, what can I do for you?’
“ ‘I want to hunt in this valley. My people are starving,’ said Itika, at which the wolf was greatly pleased and rounded up the rest of the pack to help in the kill.
“Always thereafter when Itika came to the valley of the Yukon the giant drove hunted with him. To this day they run through the mountains on cold, clear nights, in a multitude, while the light of the moon flickers from their white sides, flashing up into the sky in weird, fantastic figures. Some people call it Northern Lights, but old Isaac assured me earnestly, toothlessly, and with the light of ancient truth, as I lay snow-blind in his lodge, that it is nothing more remarkable than the spirit of Itika and the great white wolves.”
“What a queer legend!” she said. “There must be many of them in this country. I feel that I am going to like the North.”
“Perhaps you will,” Glenister replied, “although it is not a woman’s land.”
“Tell me what led you out here in the first place. You are an Eastern man. You have had advantages, education—and yet you choose this. You must love the North.”
“Indeed I do! It calls to a fellow in some strange way that a gentler country never could. When once you’ve lived the long, lazy June days that never end, and heard geese honking under a warm, sunlit midnight; or when once you’ve hit the trail on a winter morning so sharp and clear that the air stings your lungs, and the whole white, silent world glistens like a jewel; yes—and when you’ve seen the dogs romping in harness till the sled runners ring; and the distant mountain-ranges come out like beautiful carvings, so close you can reach them—well, there’s something in it that brings you back—that’s all, no matter where you’ve lost yourself. It means health and equality and unrestraint. That’s what I like best, I dare say—the utter unrestraint.
“When I was a school-boy, I used to gaze at the map of Alaska for hours. I’d lose myself in it. It wasn’t anything but a big, blank corner in the North then, with a name, and mountains, and mystery. The word ‘Yukon’ suggested to me everything unknown and weird—hairy mastodons, golden river bars, savage Indians with bone arrow-heads and seal-skin trousers. When I left college I came as fast as ever I could—the adventure, I suppose....
“The law was considered my destiny. How the shades of old Choate and Webster and Patrick Henry must have wailed when I forswore it. I’ll bet Blackstone tore his whiskers.”
“I think you would have made a success,” said the girl, but he laughed.