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Private Labiche arrived at Fish Camp that evening. "We caught that scoundrel, Reed," he told the captains. "Drouillard and the others are about ten miles back and will bring him in tomorrow morning."
    "What about Little Thief?" Captain Lewis asked.
    "He'll be here, too, along with a couple other chiefs."
    I was hoping that Reed had escaped or that he'd been shot by Drouillard.
    "York, bring Labiche some fish," Captain Clark said. "Labiche, you've earned some rest. We'll send someone out early tomorrow to meet them and show them where we're camped."

    That someone was Joseph Fields, and when he set off the next morning I went with him. I was none too eager to see Reed again, but I wanted to get my teeth into some of the meat we had left behind. And I was hoping I might run into my prairie wolf as well.
    When we were about parallel with our previous camp, the crow with the white feathers called down to me from a tree. Joe continued walking without so much as a glance up at it. White Feather flew in the direction
of our old camp, and I followed. When I got to the camp, the crow was nowhere to be seen, but I did find some old meat to fill my belly. When I finished eating, I sniffed around and picked up the scent of my little prairie wolf who had been feeding on our leavings. And there was another scent as well—canine to be sure, but a different type from the prairie wolf. I followed this new scent confidently to the other side of the spit of land, which led me to another of our old camps.
    When I got there, my bold confidence faded pretty quickly. The canines were gray wolves. The men had talked about these grays, but this was the first time I had seen them up close. They were three times bigger than the prairie wolf and there were nine of them in a circle around a pile of our old meat.
    At first they didn't notice me, because they were too busy snarling at each other over the food. I thought about sneaking off, but just as I was about to back away, the biggest wolf perked his ears up and looked in my direction. I was bigger than he was, but I knew I wasn't a match for the whole pack. The big wolf and I locked eyes. I knew better than to turn tail and run. That would just get them excited and they would be on me faster than a falcon on a rabbit. I stood my ground, though my legs wanted to jump.
    The big male made an odd sound deep in his throat and stood up. The other wolves stopped eating and
followed suit. He moved toward me on stiff legs, with his tail standing straight up like a flagpole. This was not a good sign—something I had learned from dogs on wharves along the Ohio. The other wolves followed a step or two behind him.
    I allowed him to get within about five feet before letting out my best warning growl. He stopped in his tracks, which I was gratified to see, but some of the other wolves slunk around behind me. They kept their distance, but it was impossible to keep an eye on all of them at once, surrounded as I was. At that moment I wished I had wings! One of the wolves darted in behind me. I reeled around to face him, and another wolf came in from my rear. I whipped around again. There was only one thing to do.
    I snapped at the smallest of the wolves, a young female. My vigor disrupted the circle, and in that second I dashed through the opening.
    The pack pursued me. I knew that if I stopped or hesitated I was doomed. My stamina was as good as any wolf's in the pack, but they were faster and accustomed to pursuing game. They lunged at my flanks and snapped at my hind legs, trying to cripple me. The leader managed to get in front of me and went for my nose. I lowered my head and bulled him over.
    After a mile, two of the wolves dropped back, but the others were still right on my tail. I felt my legs begin
to fail. I was going to have to stop and rest. I put on a burst of speed and pulled away from them, hoping to find a place I could put my tail against without them worrying me from behind, but there was no