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| By JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD |
(©, Doubleday, Page & Co.)
WNU Service
THE STORY
CHAPTER I.—Part wolf, part dog—
when tvro months old Baree has nls
first meeting with an enemy, Papayu
chisew (young owl). Fighting hard,
the antagonists are suddenly plunged
into a swollen creek.
CHAPTER ll.—Badly buffeted, and
half drowned. Baree is finally flung
on the bank, but the water has de
stroyed his sense of direction and he
it lost, lonely and hungry. For many
days his life is one of fear and dis
tress. He finally wanders into the
trapping grounds of a halfbreed, Pier
rot Du Quesne, and his daughter, Ne
peese the Willow. Tak-ing Baree for a
wolf, Nepeese shoots and wounds him,
but he escapes.
CHAPTER lll.—The wolf blood In
Baree becomes uppermost. He rapidly
learns Nature’s secrets, though he finds
no Comrades and is desperately lonely.
CHAPTER IV.—Following Wakayoo,
the black bear, Baree subsists royally
on the caches of fish the big felloyv
leaves. He comes again into Pierrot’s
trapping domain. Pierrot shoots Wa
kayoo. Nepeese, insisting Baree is
dog, not wolf, tries to capture him.
Baree is strongly drawn to the girl,
but cannot entirely overcome his dread
of man.
CHAPTER V.—Baree makes friends
with a colony of beavers, losing much
of his sense of loneliness.
CHAPTER VI. Bush McTaggart,
factor at Lac Bain, Hudson’s Bay com
pany's post, man of evil life, has long
coveted Nepeese, even to the extent of
offering marriage, but makes no prog
ress with his suit. On his way to ,
Pierrot and Nepeese McTaggart takes
Baree in a trap, and in a struggie is j
bitten. With the dog he comes tc
Pierrot’s cabin.
CHAPTER Vll.—Nepeese claims Ba
ree as hers, bathing the wounds in
flicted by McTaggart after the dog had
bitten him. Then, promising to give
him a definite answer to his lovemak
ing Nepeese lures McTa.ggart to the
edge of a deep pool and humiliates him
by plunging him into the water, at the ,
same time taunting him f©r presum
ing to address her. Blood poisoning
developing from Baree’s bite, McTag
gart and Pierrot hasten to Lac Bain
to secure medical treatment. 1
CHAPTER VHl.—Nepeese has spent
three winters at a mission, where she
has learned to read and sew. On her ]
seventeenth birthday she fashions a
costume which properly sets forth her
.really great beauty. j
CHAPTER IX.—Baree hears the Call
■Ot the Wild, and his wolf blood re
sponds. He leaves Nepeese, to find a
mate and hunt with the pack. Disap
pointed in the escape of a caribou they I
had been chasing in the expectation of
a feast, the wolves turn on Baree. He
-escapes, though badly hurt, and with
the Wild Call definitely extinguished.
CHAPTER X.—Baree returns to Ne
’peese, who nurses him back to life. A <
’fellow trapper, Deßar, visits Pierrot. ’
He has a message from McTaggart 1
'ordering Pierrot to go to Lac Bain at '
once on business. Pierrot is suspicious,
but goes. In his absence, McTaggart
visits the cabin, and is inflamed by a |
sight of the girl in all the splendor of
her new costume. 1
CHAPTER Xl.—McTaggart tells Ne
peese he has come to take her for
his wife, and attempts to seize her. «
Baree springs at him. The Factor
shoots the dog and thinks him dead. 1
While McTaggart struggles with No- <
peese Pierrot returns. Maddened at the
sight, the father attacks McTaggart. ‘
In the fight the Factor shoots and kills
Pierrot. Nepeese makes her escape, .
with McTaggart in pursuit. On the
verge of capture, the girl plunges into I
a pool, to what seems certain death. (
CHAPTER XII. —Believing Nepeese
dead, and stricken with deadly fear,
even something like remorse, McTag
gart buries Pierrot, burns the cabin, !
and goes back to Lac Bain. Baree j
vainly seeks Nepeese, finally giving up
the search and taking the trail. Ke
"ealizes Pierrot is dead but cannot un
derstand Nepeese’s continued absence.
McTaggart arranges to go on a trap
ping expedition.
CHAPTER XIII.—Tn his wanderings
Baree comes on McTaggart’s trail. As
sociating the Factor with Nepeese’s
loss, the dog becomes almost human In
his craving for revenge. With cunning
learned from his association with Pier
rot and Nepeese, he robs McTaggart’s
traps and spoils the fur of animals
caught.
CHAPTER XlV.—After days of wan
ton destruction, Baree is taken in a
specially prepared trap. The Factor
finds him. Gloating over the plight of
his prisoner, he is accosted by a stran
ger. Since he killed Pierrot, McTag
gart has lived in constant fear of dis
covery. He at first thinks the stranger
to be one of the dreaded police, but is
reassured. McTaggart announces his
determination to allow Baree to die
slowly of starvation, no mercy being
shown to a “trap robber’’ and outlaw.
The two men leave together, but the
stranger returns to Baree. In a whim
sical mood he tells the dog he is Jim
Carvel, also an outlaw.
CHAPTER XV.—Carvel releases Ba
ree, the man and dog taking the trail
together. Carvel has killed the mur
derer of his father, and the police are !
in pursuit. Carvel comes on a cabin in
which is a dead man and a stock of
furs. He takes up the dead mans
trap-line for the winter, and in the
spring heads south, the direction In
which he feels Baree has sought to
draw him.
CHAPTER XVl.—Baree practically
leading, the two travelers reach the
site of Pierrot’s cabin, where Carvel
realizes the dog Is “home.” Baree con- ,
tinues his search for Nepeese in all the
places they had frequented—and finally
finds her, almost the old Nepeese.
CHAPTER XVII. —Nepeese tells Car
vel of McTaggart’s vileness. The young
man declares he will go to Lac Bain
and kill the factor. Nepeese relates
the details of her rescue from the wa
ter bv a friendly Indian, and insists It
is her right to kill McTaggart. She
has sent a message announcing her re
turn and inviting him to come to her.
She expects him next day, but he comes
that nir bt. Asleep, Nepeese Is unaware
of her i nger until the man has seized
her He'* screams bring Baree to her
rescue — nd death to McTaggart. Ba
ree wipt a out the score. Cov: ship
r inp 7 ,s ulckly under such clr nm
■ttnd Carvel arranges to r«fc»: d
pu -rr ’shin e.7»d with Nepeese s ?;
t. r
tie ti.it toe u*rce of the millet before
he heard the report of the gun. It
lifted h?m off his feet, and then sent
him roiling over and over as if he had
been struck a hideous blow with a
club. For a flash he did not feel pain.
Then it ran through him like a knife
of lire, and with that pain the dog in
him rose above the wolf, and he let
out a wild outcry of puppyish 'yap
ping as lie roiled and twisted on the
ground.
Pierrot and Nepeese had stepped
from behind the balsams, the Willow’s
beautiful eyes shining with pride at
the accuracy of her shot. Instantly
she caught her breath. Her brown
lingers clutched at the barrel of her
rifle. The chuckle of satisfaction died
on Pierrot’s lips as Baree’s cries of
pain filled the forest.
“CJchi Moosis!” gasped Nepeese, in
her Cree.
Pierrot caught the rifle from her.
“Diable! A dog—a puppy!” he
cried.
He started on a run for Baree. But
in their amazement they had lost a
few seconds and Baree’s dazed senses
were returning. He saw’ them clearly
as they came across the open—a new
kind of monster of the forests! With
a final wail he darted back Into the
deep shadows of the trees. He had
shivered at sight of the bear and the
moose, but for the first time he now
sensed the real meaning of danger.
And it was close after him. He could
hear the crashing of the two-legged
beasts in pursuit; strange cries were
almost at liis heels —and then sud
denly he plunged without warning
into a hole.
It was a shock to have the earth go
out from under his feet like that, 1 but
Baree did not yelp. The -wolf was
dominant in him again. It urged hhn
to remain where he was, making no
move, no sound—scarcely breathing.
Tlie voices were over him : the strange
feet almost stumbled in the hole where
he lay. Looking out of his dark hid
‘ng place, he could see one of his
‘Tiemies. It was Nepeese, the Willow.
She was standing so that a last glow
of the day fell upon her face. Baree
did not take his eyes from her. Above
his pain there rose in him a strange
and thrilling fascination. The girl
put her two hands to hsr mouth, and
in a voice that was soft and plaintive
and amazingly comforting to his terri
fied little heart, cried:
« ; r v —- T T cLiincr> !’*
And then he heard another voice;
and ’tliis voice, too, was far less ter
rible than many sounds he had lis
tened to in the forests.
“We cannot find him, Nepeese,” the
voice w’as saying. “He has crawled
off to die. It is too bad. Come.”
Where Baree had stood in the edge
of the open Pierrot paused and point
ed to a birch sapling that had been
cut clean off by the Willow’s bullet.
Nepeese understood. The sapling, no
larger than her thumb, lmd turned her
shot a trifle and had saved Baree
from instant death.
She turned again, and called:
“Uchimoo—Uchimoo —Uchimoo ! ,r
Her eyes were no longer filled wfth
the thrill of slaughter.
“He will die—”
“Ayetun—yes, he will die.”
But Baree had no Idea of dying.
He was too tough a youngster to he
shocked to death, by a bullet passing
through the soft flesh of his fore leg.
Tliat was what had happened. His
leg was torn to the bone, but the
bone itself was untouched. Ho waited
until the moon had risen before he
crawled out of his hole.
His leg had grown stiff then; it had
stopped bleeding, but his whole body
was racked l»y a terrilrie pain. In
stinctively he felt that by traveling
away from the hole he would get away
from danger. This was the best
thing that could have happened to
him, for a little later a porcupine
came wandering along, chattering to
itself in its foolish, good-humored
way, and fell with a fat tha 1 T nto the
hole. Had Baree remained, he would
have been so full of quills that he
must surely have died.
The exercise of travel was good for
Baree. It gave his wound no oppor
tunity to “set,” as Pierrot would have
said, for in reality his hurt was more
painful than serious.' For the first
hundred yards he hobbled along on
three legs, and after that lie found
that he could use his fourth by humor
ing it a great deal. He followed the
creek for a half mile. Whenever a
hit of brush touched his wound, he
would snap at it viciously, and instead
of whimpering when he felt one of the
sharp twinges shooting through him
an angry little growl gathered in h s
throat, and his teeth clicked. Now
that he was out of the hole, the effect
of the Willow’s shot was stirring
every drop of wolf-blood in his body
In him there was a growing animosib
—a feeling of rage not against anj
one thing in particular, but agahisi
all things. It was not the feeling wifi
which he had fought Papayuchisew
the young owl. On this night the dog
in him had disappeared. An accumu
lation of misfortunes had descended
upon him. and out of these misfor
tunes —snd his present nurt—the wolf
,had risen savage and vengeful.
This was the first night Baree had
traveled. He was, for the time, un
afraid of anything that might creep
up on him out of the darkness. The
blackest shadows had lost tlieir thrill
It was the first big fight between the
two natures that W’ere born in him
the wolf and the dog—and the do<v
was vanquished. Now and then h"
stopped to lick his wound, and as lr
licked it he growled, as though for the
hurt itself lie held a personal antag
and heard, he would have understood
v' •**’ rpfiekly. and he would have said
“I Mm die. The club wih "<>ve
Li ... t devil out of him.”
Ms humor Baree came, in Lou,
mu., of the heavy tiuibei ot the
I cree.. bottom into the moM open
1 spaces of a small plain that ran along
the foot of a ridge. It was in this
plain that Oohoomisew hunted.
| Oohoomisew was a huge snow-owl.
He was the patriarch among all the
owls of Pierrot’s trapping domain. He
was so old that he was almost blind,
and therefore he never hunted as
other owls hunted, lie did not hide
himself in the black cover of spruce
and balsam tops, or float softly
through the night, ready in an instant
to swoop down upon his prey. His
eyesight was so poor that from a
spruce top lie could not have seen a
rabbit at all, and he might have mis
taken a fox for a mouse,
i So old Oohoomisew, learning wis
dom from experience, hunted from
ambush. He would squat on the
ground, and for hours at a time he
would remain there without making
a sound and scarcely moving a feather,
waiting with the patience of Job for
something to eat to come his way.
Now and then he had made mistakes.
Twice he had mistaken a lynx for a
rabbit, and in the second attack he
had lost a foot, so that when he slum
bered aloft during the day he hung to
his perch with one claw. Crippled,
nearly blind, and so old that he lmd
long ago lost the tufts of feathers
over his ears, he was still a giant in
strength, and when he was angry one
could hear the snap of his beak twenty
yards away.
For three nights he had been un
lucky, and tonight lie had been par
ticularly unfortunate. Two rabbits
had come his way, and he had lunged
at each of them from his cover. The
first he had missed entirely; the sec
ond had left with him a mouthful of
fur —and that was all. He was raven-
H« Was Gritting His Bill in His Bad
Temper When He Heard Baree Ap
proaching.
ously hungry, and he was gritting his
bill in his bad temper when he heard
Baree approaching.
Even if Baree conld have seen un
der the dark bush ahead, and had dis
covered Oohoomisew ready to dart
from his ambush, it is not likely that
he would have gone very far aside.
His own fighting blood was up. He,
too, was ready for war.
Very indistinctly Oohoomisew saw
him at last, coming across the little
open which he was watching. He
squatted down. His feathers ruffled
lip until he’ was like a hall of fire.
Ten feet away, Baree stopped for a
moment and licked his wound. Oohoo
misew waited cautiously. Again
Baree advanced, passing within six
feet of the bush. With a swift hop
and a sudden thunder of his powerful
wings the great owl was upon him.
This time Baree let out no cry of
pain or of fright. The wolf Is kipichl
mao, as the Indians say. No hunter
ever heard a trapped wolf whine for
mercy at the sting of a bullet or the
beat of a club. He dies with his fangs
bared. Tonight it was a wolf-wlielp
that Oohoomisew was attacking, and
not a dog-pup. The owl’s first rush
keeled Baree over, and for a moment
he was smothered under the huge,
outspread wings, while Oohoomisew —
pinioning him down—hopped for a
claw hold with his one good foot, and
struck fiercely with his beak.
One blow of that beak anywhere
about the head would have settled for
a rabbit, but at the first thrust Oohoo
misew discovered that it was not a !
rabbit he was holding under his wings. I
A blood-curdling snarl answered the
blow, and Oohoomisew remembered
the lynx, his lost, foot, and his nar
row escape with his life. The old
pirate might have beaten a retreat, but
Baree was no longer the puppyish
Baree of that hour in which he had
fought young Papayuchisew. Experi
ence and hardship had aged and
strengthened him; his jaws had
«>assed quickly from the bone-licking
vo the bone-cracking age—and before
Oohoomisew could get away, if he was
thinking of flight sit all, Baree’s fangs
closed with a vicious snap on his one
good leg.
In the stillness of night there rose a
still greater thunder of wing*, and for
a few ?are n closed his eves
to keep fro \ igybEnd'O hy Onhoo
misew’s furbv >l6ws. '--nt be bang
an grim!; os h:s teeth, me'
through th: »of ‘be Vi r v *)1
rate’s leg soar
iiance to O' oinisow’s r
good for<nr td given
on the 'ej; 7 Baree 1 v
graph r - "
ability to ».<• i It., ’-’h :
no other ck:v to sink in-. >.
was impol ite —caught i.»* .
/
THE CHATHAM RECORD
for fcln to tear at Baree with his
beak. So he confirmed to beat that
thunder of blows with bis four-foot
wings.
The wings made a great tumult
about Baree, but they did not hurt
him. He buried his fangs deeper. His
snarls rose more fiercely as he got the
taste of Oohoomisew’s blood, and
through him there surged more hotly
the desire to kill this monster of the
night, as though in the death of this j
creature he had the opportunity of j
avenging himself for all the hurts and i
hardships that had befallen him since
lie lost his mother.
Oohoomisew had never felt a great
fear until now. The lynx had snapped
at him but once —and was gone, leav
ing him crippled. But the lynx had
not snarled in that wolfish way, and it
had not hung on. A thousand and one
nights Oohoomisew had listened to
the wolf-howl. Instinct had told him
what It meant. He had seen the
packs pass swiftly through the night,
and always when they passed he had
kept in the deepest shadows. To him,
as for all other wild thing*, the wolf
howl stood for death. But until now,
with Baree’s fangs buried in v his leg,-
he had never sensed fully the wolf
fear. It had taken it years to enter
into his slow, stupid head —but now
that it was there, it possessed him as
no other thing had ever possessed him
in all his life.
Suddenly Oohoomisew ceased his
beating and launched‘himself upward.
Like huge fans his powerful wings
churned the air, and Baree felt him
self lifted suddenly from the earth.
Still he held on—-and in a moment
both bird and beast fell back with a
thud.
Oohoomisew tried again. This time
he was more successful, and he rose
fully six feet into the air with Baree.
They fell again, 'k third time the old
outlaw fought to wing himself free of
Barce’s grip; and then, exhausted, he
lay with his giant wings outspread,
hiss’ng and cracking his bill.
Under those wings Baree’s mind
\ worked with the swift instincts of the
J killer. Suddenly he changed his hold,
burying bis fangs into the under part
of Oohoomisew’s body. They sank
Into Faroe inches of feathers. Swift as
Baree had been, Oohoomisew was
equally swift to take advantage of
his opportunity. In an instant he had
swooped upward. There was a jerk,
a rending of feathers from flesh—and
Baree was alone on the field of battle.
Baree had not killed, but he had
conquered. His first great day—or\
night —had come. The world was
filled with a new promise for him, as
vast as the night itself. And after a
moment he sat hack on his haunches,
sniffing the air for his beaten enemy;
and then, as if defying the feathered
monster to come back and fight to the
end, he pointed his sharp little muzzle
to the stars and sent forth his first
babyish wolf-howl into the night.
Chapter 111
Baree’s fight with Oohoomisew was
good medicine for him. It not only
gave him great confidence in himself,
hut It also cleared the fever of ugli
ness from his blood. He no longer
snapped and snarled at things as he
went on through the night.
His wonnd was much less painful
the next day, and by nightfall he
scarcely had noticed it at all. Since
his almost tragic end at the hands of
Nepeese, he had been traveling in a
general' northeasterly direction, follow
ing instinctively the run of the water
ways ; but his progress had been slow,
and when darkness came again he was
not more than eight or ten miles from
the hole into which he had fallen after
the Willow had shot him.
All sounds now held a meaning for
Baree. Swiftly he was coining into
bis knowledge of the wilderness. His
eyes gleamed; his blood thrilled. For
many minutes at a time he scarcely
moved. But of all the sounds that
came to him, the wolf-cry thrilled him
most. Again and again he listened to
it. At times it was far away, so far
that it was like a whisper, dying away
almost before it reached him; and
then again it would come to him full
throated, hot with the breath of the
chase, calling him to the red tliriM of
the hunt, to the wild orgy of torn flesh
and running blood —calling, calling,
calling. That was it, calling him to
his own kin, to the bone of his bone
and the flesh of liis flesh —to the wild,
fierce hunting packs of his mother’s
tribe! It was Gray Wolf’s voice seek
ing him in the night—Gray Wolf’s
blood inviting him to the Brotherhood
of the Pack. I
I Baree trembled as lie listened. In
j his throat he whined softly. He edged
to the sheer face of a rock. He
wanted to go; nature was urging him
to go. But the call of the wild was
struggling against odds; for In him
was the dog, with its generations of
subdued and sleeping instincts—and
all that night the dog in him kept
Baree to the top of his rock.
Next morning Baree found many
crawfish along the creek, and he
feasted on their succulent flesh until
he felt that he would never be hungry
again. Nothing had tasted quite so
good since he had eaten the partridge
of which he had robbed Sekoosew the
ermine.
In the middle of the afternoon Baree
came into a part of the forest that
was very quiet and very peaceful. The
creek had deepened. In places its ;
banks swept out until they formed
small ponds. Twice he made consider- 1
able detours to get around these ponds. f
He traveled very quietly, listening and
watching. Not since the ill-fated day
, he had left the old windfall ha-d he
f °H quite so much at home as low.
ft seemed to him that at last he was
trending country which he knew, and
! where he would find friends. Perhaps
1 Furniture Headquarters ■
H. There is no use in the people of the Pittsbor
H tion hauling their furniture from other towns
|| We have the goods and compete in quality 1
g price with any Furniture store. If we shouldn’t v 1
S just what you want we shall be glad to make a m
3 a special m
g order for it.
g Enough said, only that every dollar spent at h on 1
H helps the whole community.
I J. J. Johnson &Co-l
I Do It ! I
■]: ■ NOW I
j JfgT .
I In past yea. s many g
| cotton grow ers who AM /'%
$ were slow to order J-4
| their Nitrate of \ !l M
|. Soda could not get „• !]
| it when they need- |i
slj h V -£-» r~i t t ;*
p *- ft ,r\ i bo !i;
v. j i. jL Oi yij :j>e.
3 Belter arrange cj J * I
cnce for ycur cup- d* g ' A ‘ % !;i
ply so that you v;hl jL JL JL JL ILj !|
I be assured a good
1 cotton crop ihiz £(O (T*\ A (f
year. Os DUL/A j
I ■ i
Ask your county agent or send a postal card with your
| address to cur nearest office fer our free bulletins i|
I- which have helped mousands of farmers to grow big- j|
ger and more profitable crops. ; !
Chilean Nitrate of Sod a EDUCATIONAL BUREAU |
Dr. William S. Myers, Director l.)
IIJB Hurt Bldg., Atlanta, Ga. 452 Bank PUlif., Ne>v O-leans, L-.
4 /02 Cotton Exchange Bldg., Memphis, Tenn. 57 East State St., Columbus,o. j*
, ? ■ —— ill
1 Perry’s Garage® |
IPhone 400 SANOFRD N. C j
—•Dealers In— jj
IS
Dodge Brothers Motor Car
Parts and Service. |
h
1 We Desire to Serve [
:* u
H This Bank is here not only to make money for §
fl the stockholders but to serve the people of Chatham §
if county. It is our desire to help every legitimate enter- S
H prise in the county so far as it is possible for us to do so. jj
§ Every farmer, particularly, should feel that we are his S
| friends, and ready to assist him in anyway in accord with jj
8 safe banking. ;
I CONSULT US :
jj We feel that the people of the county must econo- j
| mize, must spend wisely, and work hard, in face of the !
g effects of the past two difficult years. Two heads are j
8 better than one. Consult your banker before making j
8 investments. We shall be glad to give you the benefit j
g of whatever knowledge and experience we have. There- j
8 fore do not hesitate to consult us at any time.
Beware of buying on time. Better cut expendi- j
8 tures now than suffer consequences of another bad crop j
8 season, if one should come, upon those overloaded with
. g time accounts.
J BANK OF PITTSBORO
1 BIRD’S ROOFING
Building Material
N We are prepared to furnish building
:l material, including kiln-dried flooring, ceil
::: ings and sidings.
■ ;;! Everything in Roofing from the cheap
roll roofing to the very highest grade asphalt
I::: thingles, at prices that compare most favor*
iably with thore at other places,
u We are in the market for dry pine lum«
jj; ’ ns *or prices.
Asheboro Wheelbarrow Co
j °TTTSBORO N. C.
Thursday, April
” -