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Soon his hunting partner came to join him. Any time now, I thought, their teeth would pierce my bones.
Suddenly the world exploded in snarls. I was thrown against the branches of the shelter. But I felt no pain. And a great silence had come. Slowly I worked my way out of the snow and raised my head. There, about 50 feet away, crouched my two attackers with their tails between their legs. Then I heard a noise to my side and turned my head. There stood a giant black wolf. It was Maheegun, and he had driven off the others.
"Maheegun... Maheegun...," I sobbed, as I moved through the snow toward him. "My brother, my brother," I said, giving him my hand. He reached out and licked at the dried blood.
I got my little fire going again, and as I squatted by it, I started to cry. Maybe it was relief or weakness or both — I don't know. Maheegun whimpered too.
Maheegun stayed with me through the long night, watching me with those big eyes. The cold and loss of blood were taking their toll.
The sun was midway across the sky when I noticed how restless Maheegun had become. He would run away a few paces — head up, listening — then run back to me. Then I heard. It was dogs. It was the searching party! I put the last of my birch bark on the fire and fanned it into life.
The sound of the dogs grew louder. Then the voices of men. Suddenly, as if by magic, the police dog team came up out of the creek bed, and a man came running toward my fire. It was my grandfather.
The old hunter stopped suddenly when he saw the wolf. He raised his rifle. "Don't shoot!" I screamed and ran toward him, falling through the snow. "It's Maheegun. Don't shoot!"
He lowered his rifle. Then I fell forward on my face, into the snow.
I woke up in my bedroom. It was quite some time before my eyes came into focus enough to see my grandfather sitting by my bed.
"You have slept three days," he said softly. "The doc says you will be all right in a week or two."
"And Maheegun?" I asked weakly.
"He should be fine. He is with his own kind."
