“Pretty white for a wolf,” he muttered. “Might be a Navajo dog.”
The beast sat down on his haunches and, lifting a lean head, sent up a doleful howl. Then he began trotting along the bar, every few paces stepping to the edge of the water. Presently he spied Hare, and he began to bark furiously.
“It's a dog all right; wants to get across,” said Hare. “Where have I seen him?”
Suddenly he sprang to his feet, almost upsetting the boat. “He's like Mescal's Wolf!” He looked closer, his heart beginning to thump, and then he yelled: “Ki-yi! Wolf! Hyer! Hyer!”
The dog leaped straight up in the air, and coming down, began to dash back and forth along the sand with piercing yelps.
“It's Wolf! Mescal must be near,” cried Hare. A veil obscured his sight, and every vein was like a hot cord. “Wolf! Wolf! I'm coming!”
With trembling hands he tied Silvermane's bridle to the stern seat of the boat and pushed off. In his eagerness he rowed too hard, dragging Silvermane's nose under water, and he had to check himself. Time and again he turned to call to the dog. At length the bow grated on the sand, and Silvermane emerged with a splash and a snort.
“Wolf, old fellow!” cried Hare. “Where's Mescal? Wolf, where is she?” He threw his arms around the dog. Wolf whined, licked Hare's face, and breaking away, ran up the sandy trail, and back again. But he barked no more; he waited to see if Hare was following.
“All right, Wolf—coming.” Never had Hare saddled so speedily, nor mounted so quickly. He sent Silvermane into the willow-skirted trail close behind the dog, up on the rocky bench, and then under the bulging wall. Wolf reached the level between the canyon and Echo Cliffs, and then started straight west toward the Painted Desert. He trotted a few rods and turned to see if the man was coming.
Doubt, fear, uncertainty ceased for Hare. With the first blast of dust-scented air in his face he knew Wolf was leading him to Mescal. He knew that the cry he had heard in his dream was hers, that the old mysterious promise of the desert had at last begun its fulfilment. He gave one sharp exultant answer to that call. The horizon, ever-widening, lay before him, and the treeless plains, the sun-scorched slopes, the sandy stretches, the massed blocks of black mesas, all seemed to welcome him; his soul sang within him.