While Gray Wolf, with the instinct of the wild, had saved her own strength and energy, Kazan had been burning up his reserve forces, and was hungrier than ever.
The moon rose clear and brilliant in the sky again that night, and Kazan set out once more on the hunt.

He urged Gray Wolf to accompany him, whining for her outside the windfall--returning for her twice--but Gray Wolf laid her ears aslant and refused to move.

The temperature had now fallen to sixty-five or seventy degrees below zero, and with it there came from the north an increasing wind, making the night one in which human life could not have existed for an hour.

By midnight Kazan was back under the windfall.

The wind grew stronger.