Four years of that! The Police would not
believe it. They laughed at the occasional rumors that drifted in
from the far places; rumors that Bram had been seen, and that his
great voice had been heard rising above the howl of his pack on
still winter nights, and that half-breeds and Indians had come
upon his trails, here and there--at widely divergent places. It
was the French half-breed superstition of the chasse-galere that
chiefly made them disbelieve, and the chasse-galere is a thing not
to be laughed at in the northland. It is composed of creatures who
have sold their souls to the devil for the power of navigating the
air, and there were those who swore with their hands on the
crucifix of the Virgin that they had with their own eyes seen Bram
and his wolves pursuing the shadowy forms of great beasts through
the skies.
So the Police believed that Bram was dead; and Bram, meanwhile,
keeping himself from all human eyes, was becoming more and more
each day like the wolves who were his brothers. But the white
blood in a man dies hard, and always there flickered in the heart
of Bram's huge chest a great yearning.
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