I had learned that this preoccupation in him meant the stirring of old associations, and I waited silently.

By and by Lawson snored mildly in a corner; Jim and Frank crawled into their blankets, and all was still.

Wallace smoked his Indian pipe and hunted in firelit dreams.
"Boys," said our leader finally, "somehow the echoes dying away in that cave reminded me of the mourn of the big white wolves in the Barren Lands." Wallace puffed huge clouds of white smoke, and I waited, knowing that I was to hear at last the story of the Colonel's great adventure in the Northland..