Sitting in a circle, howling with gleaming eyes and bristling hair,
they were mournful yet vicious; like helpless slaves they did not
know what to do. Only one young wolf, a brother of the one their
leader had recently killed, strutted about independently and gnashed
his teeth, conscious of his strength and agility. In the pride of his
youthful vigour he had conceived the ambition to make himself the
leader; he certainly had no thought that this was a fatal step
entailing in the end his doom. For it is the Law of the Pack that
death is meted out to the usurper of power. He commenced to howl
proudly, but the others paid no heed, they only drooped their heads
and howled in fear and trembling.
Gradually the dawn broke. Faint and silvery, the moon was sinking
through pale, luminous veils in the west; in the east there glowed a
fierce red light like that of a camp fire. The sky was still shrouded
in darkness, the snow glimmered a cold pallid blue in the half-light.
The old wolf, fresh from his kill, slowly descended the valley where
his pack had gathered. At sight of his grey, gaunt form they rushed
forward to meet him, and as they ran none seemed to know what was
about to happen; they advanced fawning and cringing until the young
wolf, with a savage squeal, dared to throw himself upon the leader in
a sudden fierce attack: then they all suddenly remembered his
desertion of them, their law which demands death for its
infringement, and with glistening bared teeth they too flung
themselves upon him.
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