BERKELEY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 k CALIFORNIA 
 
 BIOLOGY 
 LIBRARY 
 
Bl 
 
 LI 
 
 UN 
 
 C 
 
THE FEET OF THE FURTIVE 
 
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO 
 DALLAS SAN FRANCISCO 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED 
 
 LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA 
 MELBOURNE 
 
 THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. 
 
 TORONTO 
 
At last one alighted within a couple of feet of his very muzzle." 
 
THE 
 FEET OF THE FURTIVE 
 
 BY 
 CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 
 
 AUTHOR OF "KINGS IN EXILE," " NEIGHBORS 
 UNKNOWN," ETC. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1925 
 
 All rights rt served 
 
Copyright, 1911, by The Cosmopolitan Magazine, The Monthly Magazine 
 Section, The Illustrated Sunday Magazines, The Associated Sunday Maga- 
 zines, The Metropolitan Magazine, The Christian Herald, and Collier's 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1913, 
 Bv THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1913. 
 Reissued December, 1925. 
 
 J. 8. Cashing Co. Berwick <fe Smith Co. 
 Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
 GIFT 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 FACE 
 
 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE i 
 
 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 29 
 
 IN THE YEAR OF No RABBITS 52 
 
 THE INVADERS 71 
 
 A DIGGER OF TUBES 95 
 
 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 120 
 
 WITH His BACK TO THE WALL 140 
 
 KING OF BEASTS 165 
 
 IN THE WORLD OF THE GHOST-LIGHTS .... 195 
 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED AT THE DOOR . . .218 
 
 PUCK o 1 THE DUSK 260 
 
 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 280 
 
 ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 3O2 
 
 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 321 
 
 THE FEUD 343 
 
 RED DANDY AND MACTAVISH 363 
 
 714 
 
THE FEET OF THE FURTIVE 
 
The Gauntlet of Fire 
 
 IN a way they knew each other pretty well 
 these two, the man and the bear. For 
 nearly two years they had been acknowledged 
 adversaries. 
 
 The man had actually seen the bear but 
 once, and then for a swift glimpse only a 
 flash of shrewd, fierce, inquisitive eyes from 
 a spruce thicket, and a portentous black 
 shadow sinking away noiselessly into the 
 chequered gloom. But he knew well those 
 great tracks a third as large again as those 
 of the average black bear of Eastern Canada 
 which drew their menacing trail all about his 
 cabin. He knew those claw-marks on the 
 deep-scarred stretching-trees, where the owner 
 of the claws set his signature almost as high 
 as a grizzly might have set it. 
 
 And he had studied sundry massive stumps, 
 only half decayed, which those redoubtable 
 claws had ripped open like punk in the search 
 
2 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 for ants and grubs. From all this it was not 
 difficult to infer that he had here a formidable 
 rival for the sovereignty of this wilderness 
 domain which he had just pre-empted a rival 
 who would probably, by and bye, when the 
 little farm came to be stocked, levy severe 
 tax on his sheep and cattle. 
 
 Moreover, he realized that this rival must 
 be clothed in a pelt of special magnificence, 
 which would command a special price in the 
 fur-market. In the intervals of his chopping 
 and clearing, his potato-planting and his 
 sowing of buckwheat, his barn-building and 
 his brush-burning, he went about to set traps 
 for this dangerous antagonist, who, as he 
 rightly inferred, would be too crafty to come 
 within reach of his gun. 
 
 The bear, on the other hand, knew the man 
 much better than the man knew him. From 
 the man's first arrival on the banks of the 
 wild South Fork, the great black beast had 
 shadowed him with some hostility, of course, 
 as a stranger, and a disturber of the solitudes, 
 but more with a keen curiosity. For all his 
 giant bulk, he could move, when he chose, as 
 noiselessly as a mink or a snake. Motionless 
 as one of the ancient stumps left by forgotten 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 3 
 
 lumbermen, he had watched the flash and the 
 swing of the man's axe, the crashing fall of 
 birch and fir and ash, as the clearing widened 
 and let in the sunlight upon the tangled 
 forest floor. 
 
 With wonder he had seen the two powerful 
 red oxen, obedient to the man's sharp word 
 of command, drag the trimmed logs into one 
 place; and then had marked the cabin grow 
 into shape, a surprising shape, beneath the 
 man's skilled hands. At first he had been 
 amazed that the two great oxen should be so 
 subservient, instead of turning upon the man 
 and piercing him with their long horns or 
 trampling him beneath their cleft hoofs. 
 
 But soon he had grown to appreciate an 
 inexplicable mastery in the man's voice, in his 
 unconscious indifference to whatever eyes 
 might be watching him from the dark, sur- 
 rounding coverts. It was plain that the man 
 had no fear. Then, of a certainty he must 
 be very strong. So the bear began to fear, 
 though he could perceive, at first, no cause of 
 fear, except that mysterious something in the 
 man's voice, which seemed to make the oxen 
 obey and toil with grunting patience. 
 
 And then, one day after the cabin was built, 
 
4 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 when the man was out of sight within, and 
 the heat hummed with gnats and flies all 
 round the sun-steeped clearing, and the red 
 oxen lay in the shade chewing their cud lazily 
 and heaving great windy breaths, he had seen 
 a tall buck wander out from among the trees 
 and stand staring at the cabin. 
 
 The man had stepped forth from the cabin 
 door, and raised to his shoulder what looked 
 like a long, brown stick. Instantly a jet of 
 white flame had leapt from the tip of the 
 stick, with a short, biting roar. And the 
 buck, far away at the other side of the 
 clearing, had leapt into the air and fallen 
 forward on his muzzle, dead. A chill had 
 shuddered across the bear's nerves at this 
 sight, and he had sunk back further into the 
 thickets. 
 
 No wonder the big, red oxen, for all their 
 savage-looking horns, obeyed this being, who, 
 simply by pointing a little stick and making a 
 sharp noise, could kill from very far off. 
 Thereafter the bear was still more wary in his 
 observation of the terrible intruder, but this 
 dread and hostility only made him the more 
 watchful. Clearly he could not afford to lose 
 sight of the man for any length of time, 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 5 
 
 lest unguessed and unheard-of things should 
 happen. 
 
 In this way it came about that when the 
 man, having got his first seeding and planting 
 over, and his cabin weather-tight, set about 
 the enterprise of trapping the bear, the bear 
 knew something about it. Of all the unseen, 
 inquisitive spectators whose shy, wild eyes 
 watched the work squirrels, partridge, hares, 
 raccoons, rain-birds, wood-mice, deer, foxes, 
 and owls the bear was by far the most 
 interested and the most comprehending. 
 
 When the first trap a massive dead-fall - 
 was built, baited, and set, and the man had 
 gone away to leave it free to do its cruel 
 work, the bear had subjected it to a most 
 sagacious scrutiny. Though no one had ever 
 told him how Troy fell, he had been gifted by 
 Nature with that rudimentary sagacity in 
 which the men of Troy seem to have been so 
 unhappily deficient ; and he feared the man, 
 even bearing gifts. He smelt the bait a 
 lump of savoury fat pork at a discreet dis- 
 tance; and decided to have nothing to do 
 with it. Not for any good purpose, he 
 thought, could such a delicacy be left to 
 the first chance comer. 
 
6 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 While he was watching and pondering, 
 hidden in a clump of fir-seedlings whose 
 aromatic fragrance disguised his scent, a 
 bob-tailed wild-cat came prowling by. She 
 saw the glistening white bait, held up to her 
 so temptingly on the prong of the deadfall. 
 Her round, pale eyes gleamed greedily, 
 though her ears flattened in angry apprehen- 
 sion at the strong man-smell of the tracks 
 surrounding it. She was not intelligent, the 
 bob-cat. She knew enough, merely, to know 
 that the delectable morsel belonged to the 
 man. Well, he was nowhere in sight. Even 
 now, she could hear his far-off voice shouting 
 to those stupid oxen. Crouching low, she ran 
 forward with swift stealth, and pounced, 
 with a low growl of exultation, upon the prize. 
 Something seemed to give way. With startled 
 eyes the bear saw those three massive logs, 
 which formed a roof above the bait, come 
 crashing down upon it. With an ear-splitting 
 screech, cut short almost ere it had begun, the 
 unhappy bob-cat was flattened out beneath them. 
 
 A red squirrel, which had been watching 
 the whole thing from a near-by branch, burst 
 forth into hysterical chatterings. And a crow, 
 dropping on black wings from the tree- 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 7 
 
 tops, alighted delicately on one of the logs, 
 and with head cocked knowingly, as if to say 
 "I told you so," peered down with hard, 
 bright eyes at the dead wild-cat. He held 
 that all wild-cats should be dead. It was the 
 only way he liked them. But the manner in 
 which this one's destruction had been brought 
 about struck him as most mysterious. 
 
 From that day all the man's possessions 
 seemed to the bear to partake of the nature of 
 traps to be studied with dreadful interest, 
 but on no account to be touched. So it came 
 about that when, in course of time, the man 
 brought a cow and a calf to the expanding 
 clearing, and a pig, and then sheep, and half 
 a dozen fussy hens, the bear never laid a paw 
 on one of them. His mouth watered over 
 the sheep in particular, but they looked too 
 suspiciously easy. They were surely traps. If 
 he should seize one, the sky, perhaps, would 
 fall upon him and crush him as flat as the 
 wild-cat. The man, instead of appreciating 
 this forbearance, took it as a matter of course, 
 and gave it never a thought. But he grew 
 furious at last at the failure of all his trapping 
 devices, and swore to have the bear's pelt 
 before another winter. 
 
8 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 Late that summer came a time of scorching 
 drought. The South Fork stream, a turbu- 
 lent torrent always, and fed by unfailing 
 spring lakes in the upper barrens, shrank but 
 little. The main Ottanoonsis, however, re- 
 vealed parched bars and hoary ledges which 
 the oldest woodsmen in three counties had 
 never before seen dry. Many a forest brook 
 vanished altogether, its memory surviving 
 only in chains of still, black water-holes 
 lurking under the giant roots in the cedar and 
 hackmatack swamps. And many a wilderness 
 lake left its lilies to die on a stinking stretch 
 of raw, root-cumbered mud. The man, 
 however, was not greatly troubled, for hardly 
 three hundred yards away, beyond the foot 
 of his clearing, flowed the South Fork, defiant 
 of all droughts. His buckwheat and potatoes 
 were too well advanced to be quite spoiled by 
 lack of rain. And his stock were sure of 
 water. 
 
 The South Fork, at this point, and for 
 perhaps half a mile each way above and below 
 the clearing, ran not so wildly but that the 
 man could navigate it in comfort and fish it 
 from his big "dug-out" canoe. Lower down, 
 the rapids became almost impassable for a 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 9 
 
 distance of some twelve or fifteen miles, till at 
 last the mad stream calmed itself in a low- 
 shored, shallow lake, fringed with blue- 
 berry plains. 
 
 Under the lifeless air and dry, stagnant 
 heat the forest seemed to gasp heavily, wait- 
 ing for the rain. Presently, instead of the 
 longed-for clouds, greycool, and fragrant with 
 shower, across the hard blue came a dun- 
 coloured haze, through which the sun took on 
 the look of a disk of hot copper. The balsamy 
 odours of the forest gave way to faint, acrid 
 breaths which made the eyes smart and the 
 nostrils burn. The eagles, hawks, crows, 
 and all strong-flying birds, disappeared. All 
 the four-footed prowlers of the forest coverts 
 grew uneasy, apprehending dangers which they 
 knew not how to combat or to flee from. 
 The great black bear, after sniffing anxiously 
 with muzzle high in air, toward every point 
 of the compass, lost all interest in the man 
 and his works, and took himself whimpering 
 away to a point about five miles downstream, 
 where a deep inlet of dead-water jutted off 
 from the tumbling current of South Fork. 
 
 A little later the man, who had been work, 
 ing in a dispirited way among his sickly- 
 
10 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 looking potatoes, leaned upon his hoe and 
 eyed the changing sky with apprehension. 
 
 "Fire," he muttered, "somewheres round, 
 an' mebbe not far off ! Hope there don't 
 blow up no wind !" 
 
 Then, throwing down the hoe, he yoked the 
 oxen to the drag, and prepared to haul up two 
 or three barrels of water from the river to 
 the cabin. In case of chance sparks blowing 
 across the clearing, he thought, it might be 
 well to have water on hand. 
 
 He went about this task rather listlessly, 
 weighed down by the dead air and by a vague 
 sense of foreboding. But when he halted his 
 slow team by the riverside he saw across the 
 current a sight which shocked him into 
 activity. The oxen saw it, too, and woke up, 
 and began to snort and strain uneasily at the 
 yoke. Beyond the fringe of tree- tops oppo- 
 site, clouds of smoke were rolling up, with here 
 and there a tongue of red flame flickering 
 along their bases. 
 
 The man became a demon of energy. Leap- 
 ing backwards and forwards with his bucket 
 between the waterside and the barrel on the 
 drag, and shouting furiously to the oxen to 
 stand still, he speedily had the barrel full to 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 11 
 
 the brim. On the journey back to the cabin, 
 however, he could not hurry. The track was 
 none too smooth, and he had to steady the 
 barrel laboriously lest its precious contents 
 should spill. But the oxen needed no urging, 
 and, after a perspiring struggle with the barrel 
 through the hot and narrow trail, he came out 
 upon the cleared knoll behind the cabin. 
 There he stopped short in consternation. 
 
 Beyond the clearing, along the southward 
 horizon, again those ominous clouds uprolling, 
 again those thin, red tongues upleaping 
 viciously and disappearing. From opposite 
 sides the fire was closing in upon him. And 
 only now did he realize the appalling peril. 
 Water-barrels, indeed ! With a bitter laugh 
 and a curse at the futility of his efforts, a 
 groan of rage over the ruin of all his hopes, he 
 loosed the oxen from their yoke, and raced 
 with long strides down the slope to set free 
 the rest of the stock. He would give them all 
 a fair chance for their lives, an even chance 
 with his own. Then, snatching up his lean 
 leather wallet and a blanket from his bunk, 
 he raced for the river. 
 
 The bear, meanwhile, had reached the little 
 inlet or "bogan," as the Indians call it 
 
12 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 five miles below. He found it already 
 thronged with silent, trembling refugees. For 
 already, both to north and south, the sky was 
 filled with smoke-clouds which volleyed up in 
 dark, rolling masses, and winged flames were 
 leaping ravenously from tree-top to tree-top. 
 
 To eastward the two conflagrations were 
 drawing rapidly together under the draught 
 of a rising east wind. They were converging 
 with monstrous speed upon the river, which 
 just at this point made a turn and went roar- 
 ing off to south-westward, over a series of 
 broken ledges. The clamour of the rapids 
 was beginning to be dominated by a more 
 awful sound that of the hissing rush and 
 mutter of the conflagration. Smoke-blasts, 
 pungent and stifling, came belching erratically 
 through the branches and swooping down 
 upon the water, where they thinned and 
 spread, and seemed to be absorbed in the 
 momently discoloured foam. Here and there 
 along the close-drawn skyline a towering, 
 solitary pine-top would burst into flame and 
 flare like a gigantic signal torch. And pres- 
 ently, hurled rocketing through the air as if 
 from unseen explosions, came blazing, spark- 
 ing brands, starting scout-fires, so to speak, in 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 13 
 
 advance, or dropping into the water with a 
 harsh and terrifying hiss. 
 
 All around the shores of the narrow bogan 
 crowded the beasts, watching with wide, 
 fascinated eyes the flight and fall of these 
 disastrous missiles. Several wild-cats, and 
 one huge grey Canada lynx, crouched at the 
 water's edge, or on out-thrust stumps and 
 branches. As a brand fell near them their 
 ears flattened to their skulls, and they shrank 
 back, spitting wildly. Their ferocious hunting 
 hunger was clean wiped out by fear, and they 
 paid no heed whatever to the shuddering 
 hares, gibbering squirrels, and stoical, indig- 
 nant woodchucks which crowded about them. 
 Even the bloodthirsty weasels for once for- 
 got to kill, gliding nervously hither and thither 
 among the trembling ranks. A red fox, self- 
 possessed and game in the face of any doom, 
 sat upon his haunches on the tip of a stranded 
 log and eyed the tree- tops, searching in his 
 deep, sagacious mind for some device that 
 might outwit this awful adversary. 
 
 The surface of the bogan was alive with 
 swimming mink, musquash, and water-rat, 
 daunted by the catastrophe which was about 
 to overwhelm the world, yet confident in the 
 
I 4 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 power of the cold element they loved to pro- 
 tect them. Standing belly-deep in the water, 
 and from time to time wallowing in it to cool 
 themselves, were a black moose bull with two 
 cows, and half a score of red deer. As for 
 bears, there were none in the strange con- 
 course except the great, black bear himself, 
 he having jealously driven all rivals from his 
 range. 
 
 Now, after a brief survey of the situation, 
 the bear waded into the water. He plunged 
 his head beneath the surface to ease the smart 
 of burning eyes and nostrils. At the point 
 where he had entered it, the bogan was 
 shallow, yet with a soft, sticky bottom which 
 was distasteful to his feet. As he stood lift- 
 ing one foot after the other, uneasily, out of 
 the gathering smoke-pall came whirling down 
 a huge brand, red-hot, and struck a wild-cat 
 crouching on a near-by branch. With a 
 screech the cat bounced into the air, and, 
 finding herself about to fall into the water, 
 which she loathed, squirmed sideways, and 
 succeeded in clutching the bear's capacious 
 back. Her claws sank deep, and, with a growl 
 of pain, he tried to shake her off. Mad with 
 terror, and appearing to regard him as nothing 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 15 
 
 more than an animated log, she clung and 
 clawed the more tenaciously. At any other 
 time he would have wrenched her from her 
 place and torn her to pieces. But now it 
 never occurred to him to be enraged. The 
 matter was quite impersonal. He only real- 
 ized that something on his back was hurting 
 him, and he wanted to get rid of it. Throw- 
 ing himself down, he rolled over in the water, 
 burying the cat in the ooze. 
 
 When he got up again his objectionable 
 burden was gone. But he was dissatisfied 
 with his place in the bogan. The water was 
 not deep enough to suit him. And, more- 
 over, he felt like a rat in a corner. He 
 wanted more space, more air, more view, 
 even if there were nothing but horrors for the 
 view to reveal. Shouldering aside a couple of 
 red bucks, who hardly noticed him with their 
 great, soft eyes of terror, he waded out to the 
 entrance of the bogan. Here, where he could 
 feel the pull of the eddy trying to drag him 
 out into the rapids, he took his place in a depth 
 of water that came about his shoulders. An 
 ungainly cow-moose stood close beside him, 
 flapping her big ears despondently, and star- 
 ing, not at the flames, but at the discoloured 
 
1 6 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 waves and whipped foam racing by. Then 
 past his nose came swimming leisurely a big 
 brown otter. Lifting head and shoulders 
 high above the surface, like a watchful seal, 
 the swimmer surveyed the rapids, and then 
 plunged straight into them, heading fearlessly 
 downstream. He had evidently made up his 
 mind that not much longer would the little 
 bogan serve for a refuge. The bear eyed his 
 departure wistfully, and pondered it, but had 
 no heart to dare the lashed waves and roaring 
 ledges. 
 
 But by this time the roar of the ledges was 
 unheard for the wide, ravening tumult of the 
 flames. As they leapt and swooped they 
 almost seemed to scream, and it was as if 
 the smoke-clouds themselves found voice and 
 thundered. The heat grew suffocating, in- 
 tolerable; and sparks and brands fell so 
 thick about the bogan that some of the beasts, 
 with fur suddenly shrivelling, went mad and 
 raced off into the furnace, while others simply 
 toppled into the water and were drowned 
 forthwith. The beasts who knew the water 
 sank themselves as deeply into it as they 
 could, and shudderingly awaited their doom, 
 but the wise fox, swimming cautiously around 
 
 i 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 17 
 
 the edges of the bogan and investigating it, 
 found at last a hollow under the bank, with 
 drenched roots screening the entrance. This 
 admirable little retreat was already packed 
 with muskrats and a few mink, but he 
 crowded himself in without ceremony, thrust- 
 ing others out to shift for themselves. And 
 as the dim annals of his race record that he 
 lived to hunt hare and partridge, in later 
 years, about the scarred stumps of the man's 
 abandoned clearing, it is evident that the 
 retreat proved a safe one. 
 
 The bear, meanwhile, as the fiery doom 
 closed in upon him, began to tremble. Ex- 
 cept for the wise fox, he was the only beast in 
 all that wretched company with intelligence 
 enough to think and to realize the full horrors 
 of their fate. There was no hole under the 
 bank big enough to shelter his huge bulk. 
 He whimpered miserably, and turned his eyes 
 with longing down the wild channel by which 
 the other had fled. But he could not dare the 
 path. It seemed an equally sure destruction. 
 And already it was but a seething, darkened 
 avenue of violence between two walls of 
 smoke and flame. 
 
 And the bogan too, was now a place of 
 c 
 
1 8 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 horrors. Its surface was covered with the 
 survivors of the smaller beasts, a wild-cat 
 or two, innumerable squirrels, with weasels, 
 martens, woodchucks, mice, raccoons, and 
 even a few hares whom the hour of supreme 
 despair had taught to swim. The rest were 
 dead. Several of the deer, too, had gone 
 under, in the bedlam struggle that now 
 milled blindly in the centre of the pool. 
 Besides the bear, only the sombre and stoic 
 moose held themselves aloof from that fatal 
 vortex, lying down in the water, and lifting 
 their muzzles from time to time to draw a 
 scorching and suffocating breath. 
 
 Suddenly, chancing to turn his despairing 
 eyes upstream, the bear saw a wild shape 
 dashing downward towards him through the 
 spray and smoke. In another moment he 
 recognized it. It was the man, crouched low 
 in the stern of his log canoe, and steering it, 
 with frantic paddle, between the rocks and 
 leaping surges. He had a blanket partly 
 twisted about his head; and one corner of 
 it, streaming out behind him, smoked and 
 smouldered. He headed the canoe into the 
 bogan, and just saved himself from upsetting 
 as he ran slantingly against the submerged 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 19 
 
 back of one of the moose. He came to a stop 
 within arm's-length of the bear, and the latter 
 saw that he was curiously changed in appear- 
 ance. His great, sinewy hands and gaunt 
 face were blackened and drawn, and his eyes 
 stared terribly from sockets whence eyebrows 
 and lashes had been scorched away. Neverthe- 
 less, to the bear his coming brought a sense 
 of security. Here, he felt, was a master 
 spirit, such as even the monsters of the fire 
 would not overcome. He whined and drew 
 nearer to the canoe, a dim hope rising in his 
 heart. The man noticed him, and even in that 
 moment of desperation recognized him, with 
 distorted grin, as the antagonist who had so 
 long eluded his snares. 
 
 "The both of us has got it in the neck 
 this time, old pard, I reckon!" he muttered 
 thickly, snatching off the blanket and hurriedly 
 sopping it over the side of the canoe. Then, 
 swinging it once more, all dripping, about his 
 shoulders and over his head, and gripping a 
 corner of it between his teeth to enable him 
 to breathe through it in the thick of the 
 smoke, he thrust forth again into the current 
 and went dashing down the rapids, under the 
 low-rolling smoke-pall. For an instant the 
 
20 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 bear hesitated, whimpering like a puppy, and 
 then plunged after him. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the bear was a much 
 better swimmer than he had guessed himself 
 to be. After a few moments of bewilderment 
 in the terrific, corkscrewing clutch and pull 
 of the current, he found himself able to keep 
 his head generally above water, and then to 
 more or less choose his course. 
 
 At first he chose it badly, misreading the 
 signs of the water. After having buffeted 
 his breathless way through a series of mad 
 "rips," he saw ahead of him, a little to the 
 right, what seemed a smooth passage through 
 a barrier of breakers. Resolutely he struggled 
 towards it as he swept down the channel. He 
 gained it. His foot dragged bottom. He 
 clawed frantically to check himself, but he 
 was rolled clean over, and shot from the lip of 
 a perpendicular ledge into the churning cauldron 
 below. 
 
 Fortunately for him, the cauldron was deep 
 enough to break the direct thrust of the tor- 
 rent, and he was held in a sort of eddy till his 
 wits and his wind came back to him. Then 
 he made his escape at the side, and was 
 swept on down the raging current. But now 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 21 
 
 he knew enough to avoid such spots of treacher- 
 ous smoothness, and to choose in preference 
 the steep, turbulent, heavily surging channels 
 which indicate depth and a clear way. 
 
 The man, urged on by his powerful paddle, 
 was now far ahead, and out of sight, but the 
 bear felt confidence in following where he had 
 led the way. Both shores of the river were 
 now a raging furnace, a chaos of belching 
 black smoke-bursts torn apart by sheets of 
 red and orange flame. Tall trunks blazed 
 for a few minutes above the tumult, then 
 toppled and fell, the crash of their fall un- 
 heard in the universal raving. The bear at 
 times felt his very lips and nostrils wither 
 in the heat, as he lifted his dripping head and 
 snatched painful breaths. But he was no 
 longer despairing, such confidence had he in 
 the man's leadership. 
 
 At length the main current of the South 
 Fork gathered itself into an appalling trough 
 and shot downward with a thunder that even 
 made itself heard amid the rage of the flames. 
 The bear struggled to gain the broken shallows 
 along shore, but he was too late. The current 
 gripped him implacably. A moment more, 
 and he was in the sluice. Irresistible cross- 
 
22 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 currents seized him, rolled him over, sucked 
 him under. Dull noises boomed in his ears, 
 and his lungs were near bursting. Then all 
 at once he was thrust up into the air again, 
 strangling, and felt smooth rocks slipping 
 by under his feet. The next moment his 
 claws caught wood, and clung like a vice, and 
 held. A second or two more and he was draw- 
 ing himself clear of the torrent, and holding 
 with all his force to some logs which had been 
 driven and jammed into the jaws of a side 
 ledge. Right before his nose, to his amaze- 
 ment, was clinging the man, his body under 
 water, in a crevice of the rocks, and his head, 
 all but the eyes, swathed in the dripping 
 blanket. The canoe was nowhere to be seen. 
 
 The man looked at the bedraggled and 
 gasping beast with bleared eyes of recognition, 
 and moved further along the logs to make 
 room for him. 
 
 "Glad to see you, pardner!" he cried. 
 "Make yourself right to home! You an' 
 me's the sole survivors hereabouts, I guess!" 
 
 Either catching a faint sound of the man's 
 words, or troubled by the man's eyes meeting 
 his, the bear shrank back diffidently. But, 
 when he felt again the current clutching at 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 23 
 
 his hindquarters, he once more came forward 
 and crouched low in the backwash within 
 reach of the man's arm. 
 
 For the moment both refugees were safe. 
 They had water enough to cover them, and 
 certain ridges of rock rising above the surface 
 protected their faces from the direct force of 
 the occasional devastating blasts of flame 
 which licked out across the water. There 
 was nothing to do but wait. 
 
 All that day, and all night (though when 
 day passed into night they did not know) 
 the man and the beast lay thus side by side, 
 holding on to life, while the fire raged by, 
 on either side and over them. Then it began 
 to die down, leaving red stumps and trunks 
 to smoke and smoulder up and down the 
 shores, with here and there a lonely spruce 
 still flaring. The air was now cool enough to 
 breathe without discomfort; and a desolate 
 grey dawn looked down upon the scene of 
 ruin. 
 
 The man got up, stretched his numb legs, 
 squeezed the water from his clothes; and 
 now, so quickly do our wants change, turned 
 his body to warm itself at the nearest glow. 
 The bear watched him anxiously, but ventured 
 
24 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 no nearer. He hung on to the man's move- 
 ments as a dog might have done. He had 
 lost, for the moment, all his initiative. 
 
 There was one thing that the man now 
 saw clearly : there could be no escape to 
 that fiery shore perhaps for several days, un- 
 less a deluge of rain should come to quench 
 the glowing moss-beds. But between his 
 precarious refuge and the shore, a little way 
 downstream, he marked a spit of sand and 
 gravel, with a few logs stranded upon it, 
 and a sparse growth of low sandplum and 
 osier. It lay so in the path of the driven 
 spray from the ledges that, though the heat 
 had blasted and shrivelled the bushes, it had 
 not been able to burn them, or to do more 
 then sear the logs with eating flame along 
 their seams of balsam. To the man's eye 
 this log-strewn gravel-spit seemed to offer 
 a chance of escape if only he could reach it. 
 But between raced a deep and turbulent 
 current, which, strong swimmer though he 
 was, he feared would whirl him away like 
 a straw. If only the bear would try it first, 
 he thought ! Though on second thought he 
 realized that that could tell him little in any 
 case, the bear being able to master a tide 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 25 
 
 in which he would go under like a kitten. 
 He looked at the bear appealingly, how- 
 ever, and shouted above the tumult of the 
 rapids 
 
 "Try it, pard ! We can't hang out here 
 all day!" 
 
 The bear thought he was being accused of 
 some enormity, and shrank nervously to the 
 lower edge of the refuge. 
 
 Seeing that there was nothing to do but 
 put his fate to the test, the man wasted no 
 more time. He knew he should gain neither 
 strength nor resolution by waiting. Care- 
 fully keeping to the crest of the ridge between 
 the two channels, he pushed his way upward 
 against the divided and weakened current, in 
 order to gain all the advantage possible for 
 his perilous venture. When he could no 
 longer resist the thrust of the current, he 
 threw himself as far out into it as he could, 
 and swam desperately, hoping against hope 
 to gain enough to bring him within reach of 
 the gravel-spit before being swept past it. 
 In the next instant, however, he realized the 
 futility of his hope. In that current he was 
 no more than a whirled leaf. 
 
 The bear, meanwhile, had been watching 
 
26 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 his movements eagerly as he worked his way 
 upstream. He had no idea what the man- 
 oeuvre meant, but he knew very well that 
 the man could not leave their refuge by that 
 route. When, however, he saw the man 
 throw himself clear out into the channel, 
 heading toward shore, he felt himself being 
 deserted. With a whining cry, he, too, 
 sprang out into the torrent. He dared not 
 let the man out of his sight, lest the fire 
 should come again to swoop at him. 
 
 In the grip of that sluicing flood he battled 
 magnificently, holding his muzzle high; and 
 though he was carried downward at frightful 
 speed, he nevertheless succeeded in making 
 some progress diagonally. He had just about 
 got the measure of the forces against him, 
 and shaped such a course as would enable 
 him to fetch the sandspit, when the man, 
 to his astonishment, was swept down upon 
 him, and grabbed him by the long fur of his 
 haunches. Startled by this unexpected as- 
 sault, he struck out more energetically than 
 ever. And the man, swinging around behind 
 him, shifted to his lower flank, and hung 
 on inexorably. 
 
 In his alarm the bear gained the gravel 
 
THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 27 
 
 by a handsome margin, and scurried out 
 upon it like a frightened cat. But that 
 terrifying clutch was no longer on his flank. 
 As he turned to see what had happened, 
 the man stood, laughing breathlessly, at the 
 edge of the gravel, and shouting 
 "Thanks, pardner ! You done noble !" 
 Much disconcerted at the laughter, which 
 was something quite beyond his compre- 
 hension, the bear slunk off to the further 
 side of the sandspit, and eyed wistfully the 
 smouldering shores. 
 
 The man, having regained his breath, now 
 proceeded to roll two of the logs together, 
 side by side, in the quiet water at the tail 
 of the sandspit. With the stringy roots of 
 the sandplums and the little shoots of the 
 scorched osiers, he lashed the two logs se- 
 curely together, and then again yet more 
 securely, till he had a raft that he thought 
 would hold together in any rapid yet to be 
 encountered. He knew that he was now 
 not half a mile from the lake and the open 
 barrens; and he knew, too, that all the 
 worst ledges and chutes of the South Fork 
 were past. He had neither paddle nor pole 
 to guide his course, but he pushed off confi- 
 
28 THE GAUNTLET OF FIRE 
 
 dently. As he did so he waved farewell to 
 his fellow-refugee. 
 
 "Ye'd better sit tight now, pardner!" 
 he shouted. "Ye're all right where y'are 
 till the woods get a mite cooled down." 
 
 The bear, no longer daunted by the menace 
 of the flames, but still nervous of that mas- 
 terful clutch upon his flanks, appeared to 
 accept the advice as final. At first he followed 
 the raft to the edge of deep water, whining 
 irresolutely. Then he sat down on his 
 haunches, and watched it go ploughing and 
 wallowing through the waves, with the man 
 crouched upon it, till it vanished in a bend 
 of the stream. 
 
The Keepers of the Nest 
 
 UP from the south, and from the blue, 
 palm-fringed lagoons, the giant white 
 flock came beating, on wings that drove 
 them through the heights of air at something 
 like a mile and a half a minute. Over the 
 rank, bright, mysterious solitudes and gold- 
 green reek of the Everglades the shining 
 wedge of their flight cleft the air unswerv- 
 ingly. In the mighty, throbbing rhythm of 
 that flight, each vast white wing flashed 
 momently like snow against the intense blue, 
 struck by the level rays of a sun not yet an 
 hour above the horizon. 
 
 In that high-voyaging flight went fifteen 
 swans, those huge white, clarion-voiced birds 
 so inaptly known as the "whistling swans. " 
 They flew in strict array, with usually four 
 in the shorter limb of the wedge, and eleven 
 in the longer one, the wisest and most domi- 
 nant of the flock, the undisputed leader, flying 
 
 29 
 
30 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 at the apex. The first far summons of the 
 northern spring had come to him suddenly, 
 in the blue and gold of the Floridian lagoons, 
 and though he knew that spring was still 
 deep wrapped in ice, howled over by the 
 savage Arctic winds, he had lingered but a 
 day or two before following the call. For a 
 day or two the flock had been greatly excited, 
 swimming this way and that, preening their 
 feathers nervously, and making the yellow 
 shores re-echo with their harshly sonorous 
 cries. It was not an easy matter to tear them- 
 selves away from those milk-warm, teeming, 
 green-azure tides; but at length, in the cool 
 of the dawn, a flock of wild geese had gone 
 musically honking overhead, bound for Hud- 
 son Bay. This was just the spur that he was 
 needing. As if he had merely been waiting 
 for these, his forerunners, to lead the way, he 
 sprang into the air, with a long trumpeting 
 call and a mighty beating of wings. The 
 flock rose after him, in a snowy, tempestuous 
 confusion of wings and cries. With much 
 jealous wrangling the wedge formed itself as 
 it rose, pounding upwards on a long slant, till 
 at last, having gained a cloudy height, it 
 swept northward on the trail of the geese. 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 31 
 
 Not far under five feet in length, and with 
 an enormous wing area, these "whistling 
 swans" were the stateliest birds that the 
 North American continent could boast. The 
 whiteness of their plumage, radiantly flawless, 
 save for a spot of yellow on each side of the 
 face, was set off in a formal fashion by jet- 
 black legs and bill. Their full-arched skulls 
 betrayed a high degree of intelligence, and 
 their wild eyes held a sort of aloof defiance. 
 
 Swerving rapidly inland, as if to avoid the 
 Atlantic coast, the swans swept toward the 
 Mississippi Valley. From time to time, with 
 tremendous splashings and a noise as of a 
 band of horns and bugles, they would come 
 down from their heights to rest and feed, 
 seeking always, for their halt, the loneliest 
 of lakes or marshy pools. The weight of 
 their great frames, and the fierce energy 
 expended in the terrific speed of their flight, 
 forced them to feed well and often. 
 
 From the altitude at which they journeyed 
 the swans looked down on all the other 
 migrant hosts, with the exception, perhaps, 
 of the geese, who flew at about the same level. 
 Above them, in the intense blue, they saw 
 only a majestically wheeling eagle now and 
 
32 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 then, or the black, motionless wings of a 
 soaring vulture, or some high-hawking falcon 
 waiting to swoop upon her prey. But of 
 none of these had the swans any fear. The 
 harmless black vultures would not molest a 
 kitten. And neither the eagle nor the swift 
 gerfalcon, or goshawk, most bloodthirsty of 
 his race, would lightly risk a buffet that 
 might hurl him reeling to the earth. The 
 swans, indeed, gave small thought to any 
 possible enemies in their aerial path. 
 
 Yet, but for their confidence in their own 
 power and courage, even the giant white 
 swans might have had misgivings as the 
 goshawk came gliding, a beautiful and sinister 
 form, above the line of their flight. Flying 
 as they were at a rate of not much less than 
 a hundred miles an hour, the measured beat 
 of their wings was a visible manifestation of 
 splendid and adequate effort. But the gos- 
 hawk swiftly overtook them, almost without 
 seeming to hasten the slow sweep of his 
 long, scythe-like pinions. Directly above the 
 leader his wings came to a stop, and he glided 
 motionless, with the wind of his speed hissing 
 in the stiff-set feathers, and his fiat, cruel 
 head reaching downward as if he were about 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 33 
 
 to strike. The longer limb of the wedge 
 shortened a little, as certain of the younger 
 birds at the rear nervously drew in closer to 
 their fellows. But the leader and the other 
 older birds paid no attention to the menace, 
 beyond turning upwards, as they flew, a 
 steady and watchful gaze. A few moments 
 later, and apparently without an effort, the 
 splendid marauder sailed on ahead. Two 
 minutes more, and he had overtaken the 
 journeying geese. Pouncing upon the hinder- 
 most, he gripped its outstretched neck with 
 his clutching talons and fairly tore out its 
 throat. But it was too heavy a bird for him 
 to bear up, so, after a moment or two of tre- 
 mendous flapping, he let it drop. It fell, 
 sprawlingly, turning over several times in 
 the air before it landed with a crash in the top 
 of a dense old cedar. The great hawk, with 
 half -folded wings, dropped after it straight as 
 a stone and caught it again securely in his 
 talons just as it touched the branches. With 
 heavy flappings he guided it to a perch where 
 he could devour it in comfort; and the 
 swans, as they beat their way above the 
 scene, stared down upon it with eyes of grave 
 indifference. 
 
34 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 Soon passing beyond the zones of cane- 
 fieid, pine barren, and cypress swamp, they 
 crossed the harsh and forbidding ridges of the 
 Tennessee Mountains, running the gauntlet of 
 the rifles of the wild mountaineers. In this 
 perilous passage they lost three of their flock; 
 but their leader swept them on without allow- 
 ing the array to become demoralized. For a 
 few seconds only was there some confusion, 
 as a strong bird near the head of the wedge, 
 having got his death wound, struggled blindly 
 to keep on. A moment more, however, and 
 he went plunging downward; and the line 
 closed up. 
 
 And now the skies they traversed were no 
 longer of so palpitating a blue, but more often 
 of a sullen grey or lowering with black and 
 wind-rent clouds. Gusts of icy rain burst 
 over them, and those wanton storms which 
 strive to buffet back the vanguards of the 
 diffident northern spring. The rivers that 
 now rolled swirling beneath them were cold 
 and swollen floods, heavy with silt. The 
 broad plains that stretched to the horizon 
 and beyond began to be mottled uncouthly 
 with patches of grey and shrinking snow. 
 Soon the brown disappeared, and all was snow, 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 35 
 
 white and interminable, broken only by the 
 blue-black watercourses rolling along their 
 burden of logs and ice, or by dark green, ragged 
 belts of spruce forest. Such scattered cities 
 as passed beneath them they hardly heeded, 
 unless it chanced to be at night, and the city 
 one of importance. Then the wide-flung 
 glare always drew them, and there would be, 
 on the part of the younger birds, a tendency 
 to descend and investigate; but the leader 
 always checked this inexorably, and swung 
 the flock sometimes to a higher level. 
 
 Voyaging thus day by day toward ever 
 more and more inhospitable lands and skies, 
 they came at last to those shelterless and 
 incredibly bleak expanses of the Barren 
 Grounds which stretch along the north-west 
 shores of Hudson Bay. In a blinding smother 
 of snow they arrived at a small lake, a few 
 miles inland from the sea, which had been the 
 leader's objective ever since leaving the sun- 
 drenched Floridian lagoons. But he had too 
 far outflown the advance of the sluggish spring, 
 and the little lake was not yet open. After 
 circling above it with loud, disappointed cries, 
 they flew off down the course of the shallow, 
 turbulent stream which came boiling from 
 
36 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 under the ice, and alighted amid the muddy 
 and wave-eaten floes which fringed the shores 
 of the bay. 
 
 For nearly three weeks the flock held to- 
 gether and kept to the tide-waters. Their 
 refuge was a narrow and shallow bay, its 
 beaches piled with ice-cakes which gave them 
 some shelter from the tearing winds. Here 
 food was abundant, so they were well enough 
 off, though restless and anxious to get about 
 their nesting. 
 
 As the wind was off shore, under the lee of 
 the ridged ice-cakes the water was compara- 
 tively still. And it was here they slept, rock- 
 ing softly on the backwash. Here, for the 
 most part, they were safe from all enemies. 
 But one night, as they slept, shadowy, pale 
 shapes on the dimly-shadowed water, there 
 came another pallid shape, moving noiselessly 
 as a smoke, down to the water's edge, and 
 paused among the huddled ice-cakes. Motion- 
 less it eyed the sleeping swans. Then, warily 
 withdrawing, it entered the water some fifty 
 yards away, swam out perhaps another fifty 
 yards, and approached the sleepers from the 
 direction of the open sea, the direction from 
 which they least apprehended attack. Swim- 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 37 
 
 ming so deep in the water that only a sharp, 
 black muzzle appeared above the surface, the 
 prowling shape came suddenly and without 
 warning above the swans. Rearing half its 
 length above the surface, it seized one of the 
 sleepers by the neck and killed it with a single 
 savage shake. 
 
 Wide awake on the instant, the flock beat 
 up into the air with wild buglings of con- 
 sternation, as the great white bear went 
 splashing shoreward with his prize. The 
 flock flew out to sea, mounting to a great 
 height, and circled for nearly an hour in the 
 glimmering twilight before they could recover 
 their composure. Then they came dropping 
 back in silence, every eye alert, and settled 
 once more upon the water a couple of hundred 
 yards from their old sleeping-place. For 
 perhaps another half-hour they floated with 
 heads all erect, searching every ice-cake, 
 every little lapping wave-crest. And there- 
 after, so long as the flock remained together, 
 when they slept it was always with a sleepless 
 sentinel on guard. 
 
 It was nearly a week later when there came 
 a change a change so sudden that all the 
 forces of the cold were routed in a night. 
 
3 8 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 The spring, so long held back, came with a 
 soft, delicious rush. No more shrieking of 
 winds and roar of waves along the outer ledges, 
 but, instead, bland airs that breathed of soak- 
 ing moss, and wide, still waters gleaming 
 under a desolate but tranquil sky. Through 
 long, unclouded days the sun poured down 
 lavishly, the snow fled like a lifting mist, and 
 the ice, collapsing with silvery crash and 
 tinkle, fell back into the floods that gave it 
 birth. A wave of green, high, thin, ineffably 
 tender, went washing in a day all across the 
 illimitable wastes of the muskeg. Another 
 day, and the green was starred with flowers. 
 
 The flock had scattered at once, flying off 
 in pairs to their secluded nesting-places. 
 The leader and his mate had no great way to 
 go, for their place was already chosen. For 
 several years they had held a tiny islet in the 
 near-by lake, whose shores were a morass 
 which gave them protection from most 
 enemies. Their nest, of course, was invariably 
 swept out of existence by the winter hurricanes, 
 but they had no objection to the task of nest- 
 building. 
 
 The islet was no more than a handful of 
 moss and willow scrub caught in a jumble of 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 39 
 
 uptilted rock, and it rose but a foot or so 
 above the lake level. The two swans, work- 
 ing together the splendid male as diligent 
 in the task as his mate collected dead sticks 
 and brushwood from all around the shores of 
 the lake, dragging it out with their powerful 
 bills from where the storms had driven it into 
 the tangle of the muskeg. They wove its 
 foundations solidly, and reared it to a height 
 of something over two feet, that its precious 
 contents might be safe from any floods. 
 
 Almost before the nest was fairly finished, 
 the female began to lay, the ample cup of 
 ithe nest becoming lined with down as she 
 went on laying. The eggs were big, obscurely- 
 tinted affairs, a good twelve inches in the 
 greater circumference, and with a dull, suede- 
 like surface. She laid the full complement of 
 her kind, which is six, and then began to sit. 
 
 In this long and arduous labour the male 
 took no part. But this was not from any 
 lack of sympathy on his part. He was cease- 
 lessly on guard, and devoted in his attentions 
 to his utterly preoccupied mate; and never 
 did he allow his foraging expeditions to lead 
 him any distance from the nest. When his 
 mate came off to feed, he stayed close beside 
 
40 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 the nest, watching over the eggs. And if any 
 inquisitive saddleback or herring gull flew 
 over, peering down greedily at the coveted 
 spheres in the nest, he would lift his wings 
 threateningly and warn them off with a furi- 
 ous and strident hissing. 
 
 For a week or two, however, this assiduous 
 guardianship put no great tax on anything but 
 his patience. There was no serious danger in 
 sight. A pair of the great white and grey 
 Arctic hawk-owls, almost as big as eagles and 
 far more savage, were nesting off on the 
 muskeg, perhaps half a mile away. But these 
 fierce marauders were not interested, for the 
 present, in the nest of the swans. They had 
 not the gulls' taste for eggs, and only the 
 direst hunger could have driven them to try 
 conclusions with the mighty wings and bills 
 of the keepers of the nest on the islet. When 
 the young cygnets should come to be hatched 
 out, then might they begin to take an interest 
 in the swans' nest; but for the present they 
 never came near enough even to elicit a warn- 
 ing from the vigilant guardian. 
 
 Besides the hawk-owls, out there on the 
 muskeg were stoats and ermine, a few mink, 
 plenty of the little blue Arctic foxes, and a 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 41 
 
 few of the larger and far more dangerous red 
 species. But none of these could get to the 
 nest except by swimming, and the swans 
 knew that not one of these prowlers, unless, 
 perhaps, a very daring red fox, would care to 
 approach the islet as long as either one of its 
 keepers was by. There were no wolves to fear, 
 for they not only hated the half-floating edges 
 of the lake, but they had followed the trail of 
 the wandering caribou to some far-distant 
 ranges. To be sure, there was the great grey 
 lynx, seen picking his way stealthily, from 
 time to time, about the drier portions of the 
 muskeg, and sometimes stopping to glare 
 hungrily across the water at the stately white 
 guardian of the nest. But the swans knew 
 that at this time of year the season of good 
 hunting even the lynx was not ravenous 
 enough to wet his well-kept fur by swimming 
 out to the islet. 
 
 But one day there came gliding over the 
 muskeg, pausing and lurking behind the low 
 bushes, a beautiful, dark-brown, sinister- 
 looking stranger. He was long and low in 
 the body, sinuous as a snake, and with a 
 cruel, pointed head. He made his way down 
 to the edge of the water, and stood looking 
 
42 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 steadily across at the brooding mother on her 
 nest. 
 
 The watchful sentinel had never before 
 seen a fisher, but he knew at once that this 
 was an enemy, and a dangerous one. Spread- 
 ing his vast wings, lowering and extending his 
 long neck on a level with the ground, and 
 hissing like an escape-pipe, he stalked around 
 till he had put himself between his mate and 
 those deadly eyes. At the edge of the water 
 he stood poised, a splendid, gleaming, snowy 
 figure ; and for several seconds the two so 
 strangely-matched antagonists surveyed each 
 other across some twenty yards of clear water. 
 
 The fisher was not just then particularly 
 hungry, but he was, as usual, in the mood for 
 killing. His pause was not because of any 
 hesitation, but simply because he had never 
 seen a swan before, and, like the cunning 
 tactician that he was, he took count of his 
 opponent's points before attacking. Presently 
 he slipped noiselessly into the water and came 
 swimming at great speed toward the islet. 
 
 Ordinarily, perhaps, the swan would have 
 chosen to await the attack on his own thresh- 
 old. But some swift insight warned him 
 now to join battle in that element where he 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 43 
 
 was most at home. He launched himself 
 smoothly as oil, and his powerful webs drove 
 him gliding over the surface, apparently with- 
 out effort, at a pace far beyond that of the 
 fisher. But he did not sail direct to meet the 
 foe. Rather it looked to the foe as if he were 
 going to shun the encounter. He swept off 
 on a curve, as if doubtful what to do in such 
 an emergency. 
 
 The fisher was almost abreast of him, when 
 he swerved like lightning, and, fairly lifting 
 himself from the water, hurled himself straight 
 at the swimmer's head. The swimmer dived; 
 but, taken by surprise as he was, he was not 
 quick enough to escape a bewildering blow over 
 the right eye from the bird's powerful bill. 
 Blinded for the moment on that side, he was 
 at the same time filled with a very madness of 
 rage. That any mere thing in feathers should 
 dare to withstand him was unbelievable. He 
 rose to the surface again instantly, shooting 
 half his length out of water, and snapping 
 viciously with his long white fangs. But 
 he rose into an incomprehensible turmoil of 
 enormous, battering wings, and lashed foam, 
 and unheard-of hissings, and blinding, rigid 
 white feathers; and it was nothing but a few 
 
44 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 feathers that his deadly jaws succeeded in 
 grasping. Baffled and choking, he fell back 
 with his mouthful of feathers; and as he dived 
 once more, with a view to coming up again at 
 some more convenient and satisfactory point 
 of attack at, perhaps, a foot below the surface 
 the back of his neck was clutched by a pair 
 of steel-like mandibles. The swan had darted 
 his long, snaky neck under water, as if to fish 
 for lily roots; and now, having secured a 
 good grip, he was shaking his enemy as a 
 terrier would shake an old shoe. His neck 
 and bill were excellently fitted to this employ- 
 ment, for lily roots are tough and require a 
 lot of energetic persuasion. 
 
 On land, of course, those tactics would 
 have proved promptly fatal to the bird. The 
 fisher, with his lithe strength and swiftness, 
 would have writhed about and fixed his 
 teeth in his adversary's throat, and the fight 
 would have been over. But here, in the water, 
 he could get no leverage whereon to exert his 
 strength. He could do nothing but kick and 
 twist in futile fury. Moreover, not being 
 accustomed to exerting himself under water, 
 he involuntarily opened his mouth, and speed- 
 ily felt himself choking. In fact, had the 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 45 
 
 swan but understood the magnitude of his 
 present advantage, he might now have drowned 
 his assailant without further trouble, and rid 
 the wilderness of one of its bloodiest scourges. 
 But the indignant bird, having himself no 
 objection to keeping his head under water 
 several minutes at a time, little guessed that 
 such an experience might be fatal to his 
 enemy. He presently relaxed his terrible 
 grip, and, backing off lightly, waited to greet 
 the foe's reappearance at the surface with a 
 fresh buffeting of those great wing-elbows in 
 which he put his faith. 
 
 Ordinarily speaking, the fisher is the last 
 to cry quits or to lose heart under any punish- 
 ment. But this kind of punishment was some- 
 thing so mysterious, so undreamed of, that it 
 seemed for the moment to change his whole 
 nature. It is more than probable that a 
 good submersion would cool the battle lust 
 even of a rhinoceros. It certainly cooled the 
 fisher's. Though his lungs were bursting 
 and his brain saw sparks, the moment he was 
 freed from that grip on his neck, he had the 
 presence of mind to remain yet a few seconds 
 more under water, while he swam desperately 
 toward his own shore. When at last he was 
 
46 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 forced to lift his head above the surface, he 
 was within a few feet of the fringing bushes. 
 But his adversary was there. He was met, as 
 before, by a stupefying whirlwind of wings and 
 blows and terrific sounds. Gulping a fresh 
 lungful of the air he was agonizing for, he 
 dived again, this time as deep as he could, 
 escaping by a miracle a second darting clutch 
 of his vanquisher's bill. Not till he was actu- 
 ally within the screening roots and stems did 
 he come up again, and then it was to worm his 
 way through them unseen till he was a good 
 twenty paces or so from the water's edge. 
 Then he slunk off without pausing to digest 
 the situation the most dispirited fisher that 
 ever roamed the muskeg. The swan, catch- 
 ing a glimpse of his flight, filled the solitudes 
 with the sonorous trumpetings of his triumph, 
 and swam proudly back to the nest. 
 
 As the long five weeks of brooding, for the 
 patient mother on her nest, drew near an 
 end, there came to the Barren Grounds a time 
 of unprecedented drought. The innumerable 
 streams that drained the soaking muskeg ran 
 shallow as they had never run before within 
 the memory of the long-lived swans. Under 
 the long, unshadowed warmth the lake shrank 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 47 
 
 amazingly; and at last, to the vexation of the 
 keepers of the nest, their islet ceased to be 
 perfectly an islet. The group of tilted strata 
 which formed it rose so far out of water that 
 a thin-topped ledge was revealed, connecting 
 them with the shore. It was no more than 
 a series of widely-separated and precarious 
 stepping-stones, awash in the smallest ripples, 
 but it was enough to allow a sufficiently nimble 
 wanderer to visit the islet dry-shod. The 
 swans eyed it with growing disquiet. 
 
 At last came the day when the patient 
 brooder heard stirrings, and tappings, and 
 thin little cries coming from the six precious 
 eggs beneath her breast. From time to time 
 she would lower her head among them to lis- 
 ten enraptured, or to answer with soft sounds 
 of encouragement in her throat. Her mate 
 drew close to the nest, forgetting to eat, but 
 never forgetting to keep a fiercely watchful 
 eye upon the ledge connecting with the shore. 
 
 Soon one of the baby cygnets, having di- 
 vided the shell into two halves by the ordered 
 strokes of his sharp-tipped bill, thrust up the 
 top portion as if it had been a lid, and sprawled 
 forth all wet against its mother's hot and 
 naked breast. The mother pushed one half 
 
48 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 of the shell within the other, that they might 
 take up less room, and then, a little later, 
 threw them out of the nest, lest they should 
 get fitted on over the end of another egg and 
 smother the occupant. 
 
 Presently two more eggs hatched almost 
 simultaneously. The ecstatic mother was 
 now half standing in the nest to give the 
 damp sprawlers room. It was at this time 
 that the old grey lynx, prowling down nearer 
 to the water's edge than was his wont, ob- 
 served the stepping-stones and decided to 
 come over. He had wanted those great white 
 birds for a long time. 
 
 Now, the most powerful of swans, under 
 usual circumstances and conditions, is no 
 match for the lynx, but a helpless quarry 
 merely for that fierce and powerful marauder. 
 But often, in defence of their young, the wild 
 creatures develop powers and heroisms un- 
 dreamed of at other times. At such a period 
 they become utterly reckless of odds; and 
 such a temper may often accomplish the 
 impossible. Moreover, it is one thing to hold 
 a bridge, and another to fight in the open. 
 
 There was no uncertainty in the minds of 
 the two swans as to the deadliness of this peril. 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 49 
 
 They knew all about lynxes. The mother 
 bird stood up among her eggs and young, and 
 stepped delicately from the nest, hissing and 
 beating her wings. Both birds knew better 
 than to attack this foe by water or by land. 
 With screams of hate they rose laboriously 
 into the air. 
 
 The lynx had reached the second stepping- 
 stone, a sharp and narrow one, and was balanc- 
 ing himself with the caution of a house cat 
 afraid of wetting her feet, before taking the 
 next leap. Just as he gathered himself to 
 spring, the male swan struck him heavily on 
 the side of the head, almost throwing him 
 from his foothold. His fore-paws, indeed, 
 and his whiskered muzzle went into the water, 
 but his great hind claws, firm based for the 
 spring, maintained their hold on the rock. 
 Spitting harshly in his amazement, he clawed 
 back to his position. But in the next instant 
 he was so ill-advised and over-confident as to 
 rise upon his hind legs, striking at his assail- 
 ant in the hope of bringing him down. At 
 the very moment when his balance was least 
 secure, the female, utterly reckless, launched 
 her whole buffeting weight against him. 
 Hurling him irresistibly from the ledge, she 
 
50 THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 
 
 fell with him and upon him, driving him 
 deep into the water. 
 
 For one bewildering second he clawed at 
 her, ripping off the strong white feathers, 
 and inflicting cruel wounds on breast and 
 thigh. But this was for a moment only. 
 Daunted and choking, he loosed his grip in 
 haste and pawed his way back to the surface. 
 As he scrambled out upon the ledge, both 
 birds were at him again instantly; but he 
 had not an ounce of fight left in him. He 
 was not at all hungry, and he did not like 
 swans, and he wanted to get off to some quiet, 
 sunny place and dry himself. Spitting loudly, 
 head hunched down between his shoulders, 
 ears flat, and stub of a tail pressed tight be- 
 tween his furry buttocks, he fled ignominiously 
 through a pandemonium of wings and beaks 
 and screams. When he was quite beyond 
 their reach, the two swans stretched them- 
 selves to their full height, spread their wings 
 as wide as possible, and trumpeted a raucous 
 warning to all trespassers. Then they hur- 
 ried back to the nest which they knew so well 
 how to guard. The female, apparently un- 
 conscious of her wounds, resumed eagerly her 
 brooding, with soft murmurs to the hatching 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE NEST 51 
 
 young; while the male, as calm as if nothing 
 out of the ordinary had happened, or was 
 ever likely to happen, set himself to preening 
 the ruffled snow of his plumage. 
 
In the Year of no Rabbits 
 
 IT was the hungry year for all the flesh- 
 eating kindreds of the northern wilds 
 a year of ceaseless ambush, of strained 
 vigilance, of unprecedentedly savage feud. 
 In this year every truce was broken. 
 
 For it was the year of no rabbits. As 
 happens once in a while, mysteriously, the 
 swarming hordes of them had vanished as 
 if wiped out by a pestilence or exiled in a 
 mass, inexorably, by some caprice of the 
 unseen Powers. And so red anarchy in the 
 wild. For the rabbit is your great reconciler, 
 your great keeper of the peace. It is he 
 that keeps life more or less regulated for the 
 fiercely individual and ungovernable hunters 
 and prowlers. For to his inexhaustible fertil- 
 ity, and to the food supply afforded by his 
 myriads, are all their lives attuned. Their 
 wants satisfied by this facile chase, they can 
 afford to save themselves trouble by avoid- 
 
 52 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 53 
 
 ing each other at times, by respecting, to a 
 certain extent, each other's ranges, and so 
 escaping the risk of dangerous and doubtful 
 encounters. Few of the wild creatures 
 with the exception of certain males in the 
 mating season care to fight for fighting's 
 sake, or to join battle, unless in defence of 
 their young, with an antagonist of anything 
 like equal powers. A victory too costly is 
 almost as bad for them as a defeat, for it 
 leaves them weakened, so that they fall a 
 prey to the next foe that chances along. 
 
 Under these circumstances, it is not strange 
 that there should be signs, among the greater 
 beasts, of something like a truce where their 
 helpless young are concerned. It is no matter 
 of good will, by any means, but of common 
 prudence merely. For when their young are 
 threatened, even the weak are dangerous, and 
 the strong become implacable in their ven- 
 geance. In general, therefore, among equals, 
 the raiding of nurseries is not regarded as good 
 hunting; the peril is too great for the profit. 
 
 But when the rabbits were gone, all that 
 was changed. Then any hunting was good 
 hunting. 
 
 It is hard to realize that little, palpitating, 
 
54 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 bulging-eyed bunny could exert so vast an 
 influence on the economy of the wilderness. 
 But there was none so strong or so haughty 
 as to rest indifferent to his going. Even 
 man himself was touched; for the foxes and 
 the wild-cats drew in about the settlements 
 and harried the hen-roosts and the pastures of 
 the outlying farms. The great herb-eaters 
 the red deer, the caribou, and the gigantic 
 moose himself were not exempt from the 
 sudden anarchy; for the moose and the cari- 
 bou had to guard their young with a vigilance 
 hitherto undreamed of, and the weaker deer 
 soon discovered that enemies whom he had 
 been wont to despise had all at once grown 
 formidable. 
 
 Of all the wilderness dwellers, the bears, 
 perhaps, were least affected. They had never 
 taken more than a chance interest in quarry 
 so elusive as the nimble rabbit, and flesh 
 food was never essential to them so long as 
 roots and fruits and fungi, grubs and beetles, 
 ants and honey, were to be found in the forest. 
 And when the craving for flesh was not to be 
 denied, it was big game they hunted deer, or 
 sheep, or some strayed heifer. But, for all 
 their independence, the bears were forced to 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 55 
 
 take account of the departure of Master Rabbit. 
 They grew afraid to go far from their dens, 
 lest in their absence some greatly daring lynx 
 or fox or fisher should slip in and kill their 
 cubs. 
 
 It was, perhaps, the lynxes, on the other 
 hand, who suffered most. They and the 
 weasels were the most assiduous hunters of 
 the rabbit, and they lacked the weasels' 
 adaptability. They are set in their ways, 
 the lynxes; and though more savage and 
 vastly more formidable than their smaller 
 cousins, the wild-cats, they are at the same 
 time far shyer of man and all his works. In- 
 stead of following the foxes and wild-cats into 
 the fringes of the settlements, they stayed 
 where they were, and went hungry or hunted 
 dangerous game. 
 
 Near the top of a steep and rocky knoll, 
 at the heart of a cedar swamp, a wise old 
 mother lynx had her lair. The knoll was an 
 upthrust of broken strata, a tangle of cleft 
 rocks and stunted birch and hemlock, and 
 in a narrow-mouthed cave, near the summit, 
 was the lair. Here the savage mother felt 
 that her litter was pretty well hidden. All 
 approaches to the den were narrow and diffi- 
 
5 6 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 cult, and it would be a bold enemy indeed who 
 would dare the perilous entrance unless very 
 sure of getting clear away before the mother's 
 return. She ventured, therefore, as few 
 mothers in that calamitous season could ven- 
 ture, to allow herself some freedom of range. 
 And this was well. For they were lusty and 
 hungry youngsters, those striped, velvety 
 kittens, whose baby whimperings had already 
 something harsh and fierce in them, though 
 they still sprawled blindly in their nest ; and to 
 keep her breasts supplied with milk for their 
 precious demands she had to have good 
 hunting. 
 
 Unlike some more fortunate mothers of the 
 wild, she had to care for her family alone. 
 To her ferocious mate she dared not let their 
 hiding-place be known, lest, in some unnatural 
 moment, he should make a meal of them. 
 Ordinarily, except in mating season, they saw 
 little of each other, this wild and sullen pair. 
 But in this season of scarcity they often met 
 for the purpose of hunting down together some 
 game too powerful for either to manage alone. 
 Together, if fortune favoured them, they would 
 perhaps pull down a buck. When they had 
 feasted full, and dragged the carcase into a 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 57 
 
 thicket for safer hiding, the female would 
 start back in anxious haste for her den. The 
 male would make as if to follow her; but she 
 would turn upon him in such a blaze ot fury 
 that he would jump back, sit up on his great 
 haunches, lick his blood-stained chaps, and 
 gaze at her with an innocence as demure as of 
 any tabby that ever made away with the 
 canary. The prudent mother was not to be 
 deceived. Staring back over her shadowy 
 grey shoulder, she would growl and spit and 
 snarl till she was quite out of sight of that 
 dangerous figure, then she would wheel in her 
 tracks and flash off in quite another direction. 
 And her mate had far too much respect for his 
 hide to attempt to follow her. 
 
 One day, as she came racing back home 
 from one of these expeditions now gliding 
 like a flicker of light, now bounding in great, 
 noiseless leaps a sudden foreboding smote 
 her. She had been away, perhaps, a little 
 longer than usual. Lengthening herself out, 
 she shot forward and in among the huddled 
 rocks. As she arrived, a whiff of pungent 
 scent smote her nostrils. She saw a streak 
 of ruddy-yellow fur disappearing under a 
 bush. With one lightning spring, she came 
 
58 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 down upon that bush. But there was nothing 
 there. She saw a large fox just whisking 
 around the next boulder. For one agonized 
 moment she hesitated, raging to pursue 
 and rip him to shreds with her terrific claws. 
 But the mother pull was too strong. She 
 raced on up to the den and darted in with an 
 anxious whimper of inquiry. 
 
 Her kittens were all there, undisturbed, 
 and noiselessly nosing for her teats, as they 
 felt her and smelt her bending over them. 
 But she had no time just then to gratify their 
 wants. She was too much concerned about 
 their enemies. Giving them a hurried lick of 
 reassurance, to their squalling indignation 
 she left them abruptly. 
 
 Sniffing carefully outside, she quickly satis- 
 fied herself that the fox had only come to 
 within some ten feet or so of the entrance; 
 but that was more than enough for her 
 mother fears. The enemy had been recon- 
 noitring, and he had found the hiding-place 
 of her treasures. He was an enemy whom she 
 dreaded, because of his cunning, so much 
 superior to her own. Beside herself with rage 
 and fear, she searched every nook and crevice 
 of the knoll. But, of course, she found noth- 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 59 
 
 ing of him except the musky smell which he 
 had left behind him so liberally. 
 
 As luck would have it, however, at the 
 foot of the knoll, almost directly beneath 
 the lair itself, she found another intruder. 
 Nosing for roots in the rich earth between 
 the rocks was a black bear. His presence 
 there was quite innocent; his thoughts were 
 far from young lynxes. But to the eyes of 
 the anxious mother he was sniffing his way 
 to the hiding-place of her little ones. 
 
 Now, the most powerful of lynxes, of 
 course, is no match for a bear. But a mother's 
 a mother, and that makes all the difference 
 in the world. The bear was attentively turn- 
 ing over the moss and sod, unmindful of 
 danger, when a cyclone of claws and teeth 
 and screeches fell upon his neck. Taken so 
 completely by surprise, he fairly bleated, and 
 gave futile clutches over the shoulder with 
 his massive paws, which would have . made 
 short work of his audacious assailant could 
 they have fairly reached her. But they 
 touched nothing save a little elusive fur; 
 and the next moment, seized with panic, he 
 wheeled and fled wildly through the cedars. 
 The lynx clung to him, biting and clawing 
 
60 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 till a low branch swept her off. Whereupon, 
 after pausing to free her teeth from the long 
 black hairs which they had been so diligently 
 collecting, she sped back to the den with her 
 feelings somewhat relieved. The bear ran 
 on, his panic gradually giving way to indig- 
 nation, till at last the latter conquered. Then 
 he turned and began slowly retracing his 
 steps. He would find his insolent assailant 
 and do her up. But when he reached the 
 knoll, he changed his mind once more. After 
 all, was it worth while going out of his way 
 to find her? She seemed to be so elusive. 
 He passed around to the other side of the 
 knoll, and let off his resentment in rending 
 to pieces an old ant-log. 
 
 To the bear, though so ignominiously 
 routed by his small antagonist, the affair was 
 of no great moment. His hurts were not 
 deep, and they soon were forgotten. But 
 to the mother lynx it was different. Her 
 security was gone. She felt that both the 
 fox and the bear were after her little ones. 
 She no longer dared to hunt at any distance 
 from home; and near home, thanks to her 
 own reputation, it was bad hunting. All she 
 could do was to lie in wait, with infinite 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 61 
 
 patience, for chickadees and wood-mice; 
 while her hunger grew, and the supply of 
 precious milk in her breasts began to diminish, 
 and the little ones, whose eyes were now just 
 opening, became more and more insistent in 
 their demands. 
 
 About three days after the episodes of the 
 fox and the bear, there came to the knoll an 
 immense cow moose, seeking, as the lynx had 
 done, solitude and security. To the other 
 side of the knoll she came, and had no sus- 
 picions of the presence of the lynx, who 
 glared down upon her unseen from a bush- 
 screened crevice near the summit. She was 
 black and grim and very formidable-looking, 
 the great moose, and could well have smashed 
 the life out of the giant cat with one stroke 
 of her splayed fore-hoof. So the lynx had 
 no notion of interfering with her. But she 
 was interested in the errand which had brought 
 the dark tree-eater to this retreat, and she 
 licked hopefully her whiskered jaws. 
 
 About daybreak, on the soft moss at the 
 foot of the rock, the moose gave birth to 
 a long-legged, shuddering calf. Forgetful at 
 once of all her suffering, she licked the new- 
 comer long and lovingly, till its soft coat was 
 
62 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 dry and glossy dark; and at last, along in 
 the warm of the day, it staggered feebly to 
 its feet and made its first effort to nurse. 
 It was grotesquely gaunt, and lank, and 
 big-headed, and loose-jointed, and its sprawling 
 legs were too weak to long support its weight. 
 In two or three minutes it sank down again 
 upon the moss, where it lay staring around 
 with mild, incurious eyes, while its mother 
 gazed upon it in a tender ecstasy. To her it 
 was the one thing of beauty that the whole 
 green forest held. 
 
 Suddenly a faint sound, other than that of 
 rustling leaf and twig, caught her vigilant 
 ear. She turned her head sharply. There 
 among the cedar trunks, not a hundred feet 
 away, was the bear, turning over and munch- 
 ing a cluster of bright yellow fungi. A bear ! 
 That was the most to be dreaded of all possi- 
 ble enemies. With a harsh cry, a sort of 
 coughing bellow, she rushed at him. 
 
 At sight of this black whirlwind sweeping 
 down upon him, the bear was surprised and 
 pained. He was not a very big bear, and she 
 was a very big moose. If capable of reflec- 
 tion a point on which doctors differ with 
 some acrimony he perhaps reflected that the 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 63 
 
 knoll was not a lucky neighbourhood for him 
 too many mothers and hardly enough mush- 
 rooms. In any case, he decided to go away at 
 once. And he acted with such alertness 
 upon this wise decision that he managed to 
 keep a certain distance between his hind- 
 quarters and those furiously-pounding hoofs. 
 He felt that he had reason to congratulate 
 himself. 
 
 The lynx had been watching from her high 
 crevice when the moose made her mad charge 
 upon the bear. Her pale, round eyes flamed. 
 Soundlessly she dropped from her ambush. 
 There was no cry from the feeble victim. 
 The lynx was too expert and too wary a 
 hunter for that; she wanted no struggle that 
 would attract the mother's attention from the 
 pursuit of the bear. So the unfortunate calf, 
 who had only just opened his eyes upon life, 
 went out of it without knowing what had 
 happened to him. Without an instant's 
 delay, the lynx began dragging the limp but 
 still quivering prey up the rock. Her only 
 chance was to get it speedily beyond the 
 mother's reach. 
 
 The lynx was marvellously strong for a 
 beast of her weight, which was not more than 
 
64 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 forty odd pounds, and she was desperate with 
 determination. She knew that this prize 
 would keep her from the necessity of leaving 
 the den till her little ones should be past their 
 first helplessness. Nothing should be allowed 
 to snatch it from her. But, for all her furi- 
 ous efforts, so unmanageable was that limp 
 form, with its long, sprawling legs, that her 
 progress up the broken steep was dangerously 
 slow. 
 
 Suddenly the moose, realizing that she 
 could not catch the bear, stopped with a 
 wrathful snort. Ploughing up the dank moss 
 with her great outthrust fore-feet, she wheeled 
 about to return to her calf. She started back 
 at a shambling trot, suspecting no evil, and 
 satisfied with herself for having so well routed 
 the enemy. Then she marked that the little 
 one was no longer in his place. She gave 
 one mighty leap forward, her wild eyes sweep- 
 ing the whole base of the rock, and then, 
 looking upwards, she saw what had befallen. 
 
 As that black bulk of vengeance came thun- 
 dering towards her, the lynx strained desper- 
 ately to lift her prize beyond its reach. The 
 steep at this point was too abrupt for any 
 moose to climb, but the frantic mother hurled 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 65 
 
 herself up it so far that her outstretched hoofs 
 struck the rock on either side of the calf's 
 hind-quarters. Daunted for the instant, the 
 lynx let go her hold and shrank away with 
 a snarl. But seeing how far short her 
 assailant had fallen, she sprang forward again 
 and sank her teeth into the victim's throat 
 with confident defiance. 
 
 From that wild leap the mother had fallen 
 back violently upon her haunches. Uncon- 
 scious of the shock, she drew back a few steps 
 and rushed again to the attack. This time 
 she came on less wildly, and the lynx, glaring 
 down upon her over the shoulder of the prey, 
 had no misgivings. But in reality it was now 
 that the wise old moose was most dangerous. 
 Having come triumphant through many sea- 
 sons, many vicissitudes, she knew how to 
 handle her powers to best advantage, and in 
 that first leap she had seen that her little one 
 was finished past all helping. Revenge was 
 all that she could strive for. As she charged 
 again, she gathered her gaunt legs beneath 
 her at the last of it, and launched herself up- 
 wards with a finely calculated effort. Thor- 
 oughly deceived, the lynx clung obstinately 
 to her hold, with ears flattening back in angry 
 
66 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 scorn. But this time she had seriously mis- 
 calculated. In the next second one of those 
 huge, battering fore-hoofs smote down upon 
 her. It crushed her head right back between 
 her shoulders, and her tense body, suddenly 
 relaxed, slumped forward upon the neck of 
 her victim. 
 
 Falling back as before, because it was im- 
 possible for her to gain any foothold on that 
 steep, the moose charged once more and 
 repeated her wonderful leap. This time her 
 stroke brought both the bodies tumbling 
 over each other to the ground. The victor, 
 now sober and deliberate in her fury, pawed 
 them carefully apart and proceeded to stamp 
 the carcase of the lynx into the earth. When 
 this was accomplished to her satisfaction, she 
 went and nosed her little one tenderly for 
 several minutes, muttering thickly in her 
 shaggy throat. Then, with drooping head, 
 she stood over it motionless for hours, till the 
 last of the sunset had faded out, and all the 
 forest was in blackness. At last the moon got 
 up white above the tree-tops, and ran pale 
 fingers down the face of the rock till they un- 
 covered the grim scene at its base. The 
 moose, as if suddenly pulling herself together 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 67 
 
 to accept the inevitable, lifted her great black 
 head, sniffed the night air with wide nostrils, 
 and made off noiselessly through the cedars. 
 
 An hour or two later the bear came cau- 
 tiously prowling up. Unseen himself, he had 
 seen his late enemy go stalking by with an air 
 of no more concern in that part of the forest. 
 Much puzzled, he had come to seek a solution 
 of the mystery. He found the solution entire- 
 ly to his taste. He grunted contemptuously 
 over the pounded remnants of the lynx, and 
 then, well able to appreciate such a dainty, 
 made a hearty meal of young moose meat. 
 He sat down on his haunches and grumbled 
 happily over his repast, perhaps thinking how 
 favoured were the bears over all the other 
 dwellers of the wilderness. It would have 
 been a sound and true reflection, could he but 
 have made it, and no more than the due of the 
 Power which had been so generous to his kind. 
 
 Meanwhile, the baby lynxes, in their den, 
 now hungry past all caution and mewing 
 harshly, might have been left to a lingering 
 and piteous death. But Nature is seldom 
 so cruel. Stealing through the black shadows, 
 and darting across the patches of moonlight, 
 came the fox, anxious to see if anything new 
 
68 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 had happened at the knoll. Peering from a 
 thicket, he marked the bear at his feast, and 
 soon made out to understand. Stealing about 
 to explore the knoll, he presently caught the 
 cries of the kittens. This was a phenomenon 
 not hard for him to interpret. After a pru- 
 dent investigation, he crept into the den. 
 There was some spitting, feeble but courage- 
 ous, and then the cries of loneliness and hunger 
 stopped. The fox was too businesslike to 
 play with and torment his victims, as one of 
 the cat family would do, but killed them at 
 once and made haste to carry them off to his 
 den. Though not without a healthy edge to 
 his own appetite, he thought first of his mate 
 and cubs, to whom he was untiringly devoted. 
 
 The knoll being now no longer occupied 
 by the terrible lynx mother, the lesser folk 
 of the forest began cautiously to revisit it, 
 though they made no long stay in that neigh- 
 bourhood, because they never knew when the 
 den at the summit might attract some danger- 
 ous occupant. Before long the bones of those 
 two bodies at the foot of the rock were polished 
 clean and white, and then the place fell de- 
 serted except for the chickadees and the wood- 
 peckers. 
 
IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 69 
 
 As the summer drew to a close, and the 
 first glimmers of autumn scarlet began to 
 tip the maples, scattering here and there 
 across the wilderness reappeared a few rab- 
 bits. Their enemies being now less numer- 
 ous, they multiplied with amazing rapidity, 
 as if thinking they had the earth to replenish; 
 and soon again tall ears and bulging eyes were 
 flickering through the coverts, sensitive, cleft 
 nostrils questioning every air, and fluffy 
 white tails bobbing up out of the gold-brown 
 fern beds. The rabbits did not love the cedar 
 swamp, with its wet moss and black, half- 
 hidden pools, but a few of their more adven- 
 turous spirits roamed everywhere. 
 
 One fresh October morning, when the birch 
 trees were all gold among the grey rocks of the 
 knoll, a roving buck rabbit came to the foot 
 of it and stumbled upon that bunch of white 
 bones. At first he was much frightened, and 
 with two prodigious leaps took hiding in the 
 nearest thicket. But the bones made no hostile 
 move whatever, and presently he felt some- 
 what reassured. After he had stared at 
 them for some time, he concluded that they 
 were harmless. With uncomprehending curi- 
 osity he hopped all around them, and then 
 
70 IN THE YEAR OF NO RABBITS 
 
 sat up beside them on his haunches, his long 
 ears erect in foolish inquiry. The last thing 
 he could guess was that he and his kind were 
 responsible for that pile of bleaching bones. 
 
The Invaders 
 
 THE lake was set in the high barrens. 
 Its wide surface, as smooth as glass 
 under the unobstructed sunset, was of an 
 intense yet faintly smoky orange, shading 
 into green in the deep, reflected zenith. Its 
 far-off, western shore-line, fringed with a low 
 growth of firs, was toothed and black against 
 the sky. The eastern shore, but vaguely to 
 be marked in the lone, pervasive glow, was 
 flat, and naked except for a thicket of willow 
 and poplar about the mouth of an inflowing 
 stream. The flooding, tranquil colour, the 
 low remoteness of the encircling horizon rim, 
 the apparent convexity of the lake surface, 
 which seemed to bosom upwards toward the 
 impending dome of air, agreed together in an 
 unutterable beauty of desolation. 
 
 Presently a black speck no, two black 
 specks appeared upon the sheen of the 
 
 71 
 
72 THE INVADERS 
 
 perfect mirror, detaching themselves from 
 the dark edge of the western shore. Pushing 
 out swiftly across the radiance, side by side, 
 they broke it with long, smooth, diverging 
 ripples, which gleamed changefully behind 
 them as they drew their trail straight out 
 toward the centre of the lake. Under the 
 lonely glow the black specks revealed them- 
 selves as the heads of two swimming moose, 
 a cow and a bull. 
 
 They swam completely submerged except 
 for their dark, uncouth but splendid heads, 
 their long, prehensile muzzles outstretched 
 and cleaving the surface. The huge antlers 
 of the bull, massive and broadly palmated, 
 lay back flat on the surface behind him, 
 above the turmoil of his unseen, powerfully 
 labouring shoulders. In the eyes of the 
 pair there was a questioning fear, a certain 
 wildness as of panic. It was a strange look 
 for these tall lords of the wilderness to be 
 wearing at this time of year, when the gigantic 
 bulls front all creation arrogantly in their lust 
 of battle. But the one terror that could 
 daunt them had come upon them suddenly 
 the terror of the unknown. 
 
 The pair had been on the open strip of 
 
THE INVADERS 73 
 
 beach between the fir forest wherein they 
 roamed and the waterside where they were 
 accustomed to wallow and pull lily roots, 
 when the terror came upon them in full 
 force, and drove them out across the orange 
 mirror of the lake to seek refuge in the 
 barrens of the further shore. And neither 
 knew what it was that they were fleeing from. 
 For several days the cow had been uneasy, 
 the bull angry and suspicious. The sense of 
 some vague, uncomprehended peril, approach- 
 ing but still impalpable, was in the air. From 
 the wonder and fear and amazement of other 
 and feebler kindreds of the wild, it had come 
 by some obscure telepathy to trouble the 
 nerves of the great, imperturbable moose. 
 
 But in the chill glory of this October 
 sunset the mystery had come nearer had 
 grown more tangible without becoming any 
 the less a mystery. As the cow stood alone 
 by the waterside, calling her mate, she had 
 felt oppressed with a dim apprehension that 
 something other than her mate might come 
 in response to the uncouth passion of her 
 appeal. And her mate had come suddenly, 
 watchfully, noiselessly, as if in half expecta- 
 tion of being intercepted or ambushed. His 
 
74 THE INVADERS 
 
 tall, black shape was at her side, like a shadow, 
 while her first calls were yet hoarsely thrilling 
 the stillness. 
 
 Even as they stood conferring with sensi- 
 tive, intimate muzzles, a red buck had gone 
 leaping by, manifestly terrified, yet with 
 an air of irresolution curiously unlike the 
 usual whole-heartedness of his flight. Their 
 ardour was chilled for a moment by the 
 impression of his inexplicable fear, and they 
 stared after him apprehensively, as if the 
 familiar sight of a running buck had suddenly 
 become a portent. 
 
 The strange terror of the buck was hardly 
 more than well forgotten when a fox 
 emerged hastily from the bushes. Seeing 
 the pair of moose absorbed in each other, 
 and standing there black and conspicuous by 
 the waterside, careless of what eyes might 
 mark them, he came stepping delicately down 
 the beach and seated himself on his haunches 
 not a dozen feet away. His shrewd eyes 
 scanned them with intense inquiry, as 
 if wondering if their careless confidence 
 represented a strength under which he might 
 shelter himself. At other times the lordly 
 pair of lovers would have resented his in- 
 
THE INVADERS 75 
 
 trusion and driven him off; but to-day they 
 simply stared at him with anxious inquiry. 
 The look in their eyes seemed to satisfy the 
 fox that there was no help here to be relied 
 upon. He glanced uneasily over his shoulder 
 toward the dark fringes of fir whence he had 
 come, rose slowly to his feet, stepped past 
 them superciliously, and went trotting on 
 down the edge of the lake. Their keen eyes, 
 following him closely, saw him lengthen out 
 into the gallop of desperate flight the 
 moment he reached the cover of an osier 
 thicket. The sight of that sudden despera- 
 tion, in a beast so wise as the fox, unnerved 
 them in spite of themselves. They had seen 
 many foxes, but never before a fox who acted 
 so peculiarly. What had he wanted of them? 
 Why had he so searchingly looked them over? 
 And then why had he fled? They shivered, 
 drew closer together, wheeled their dark 
 bulks about till their sterns were toward the 
 shining water, and stared intensely into 
 the dense mass of the forest where the 
 fox had gazed so curiously. Those sombre 
 masses of spruce and fir were their home, 
 their secure and familiar covert, but now 
 they questioned them, distrusted them. What 
 
76 THE INVADERS 
 
 treachery could the silent shades be prepar- 
 ing? 
 
 The eyes of the moose, though keen, dis- 
 covered nothing. But presently their big 
 ears, thrust forward and rigid with interroga- 
 tion, caught the ghost of a sound across the 
 immense silence. It might almost be the 
 padding of many feet. Then here and there, 
 from the depths of certain spots of blacker 
 shadow, flashed a greenish gleam, points of 
 pale fire, which might be eyes. At last a 
 breath of air, an exhalation of the forest so 
 light as not even to stir the long fringes of 
 hair pendant from the bull's throat, came to 
 their distended nostrils. It was a scent 
 unknown to them, but indescribably sinister. 
 Its menace daunted them. Indignant and 
 appalled, they backed down slowly, side by 
 side, into the water, still keeping their eyes 
 fixed upon the forest. Then, wheeling 
 suddenly, they swam out into the orange 
 radiance, straining toward the refuge of the 
 far-off opposite shore. 
 
THE INVADERS 77 
 
 II 
 
 THERE were eight gigantic wolves in the 
 pack, and one much smaller and slenderer, 
 who seemed, none the less, to wield a certain 
 influence over her fellows. The eight were 
 such portentous figures as one would never 
 expect to see in the eastern wilderness, being 
 of the most formidable breed of Alaskan 
 timber wolf, long of jaw and flank, broad of 
 skull, massive of shoulder, deep of chest, and 
 each powerful enough to slash the throat of a 
 caribou cow at one snap and to pull her 
 down in her run. Yet, with one exception, 
 they had never seen Alaska, or a running 
 caribou, or the wild rivers rolling north, or 
 the peaks of endless snow. They had been 
 born south of the St. Lawrence, in the 
 limited and half-tamed forests of Northern 
 Vermont, and they had come sweeping north- 
 eastward in the search for more spacious 
 solitudes. 
 
 The establishing of so great and fierce a 
 company in the ordered east had come about 
 in this way. Some years earlier, at a village 
 in Northern Vermont, a splendid timber wolf 
 
78 THE INVADERS 
 
 had made his escape from the caravan of a 
 travelling menagerie. He had been hunted, 
 with abundant hue and cry, for several days. 
 But he was sagacious. He did not halt in 
 his long, untiring gallop till he had put safe 
 leagues between himself and his pursuers, 
 and found a forest wild enough to hide in. 
 He had hunted, with wise discretion, deer 
 and hare and other wild creatures only, 
 and had strictly withheld himself from 
 all quarry that he thought to be under 
 the protection of man. Thanks to this 
 prudence, no man suspected his existence. 
 After a while, meeting in the neighbour- 
 hood of a village a long- jawed, wolfish- 
 looking mongrel with husky and deerhound 
 in her veins, he had easily induced her 
 to leave her master and take to the wild 
 life for which she had always had a dim 
 craving. She had hunted beside him faith- 
 fully, and given him two litters big-boned 
 whelps, which grew up as huge and savage 
 as their sire, but far less sagacious than he, 
 and of more evil temper, as is apt to be the 
 case in such a cross. They obeyed their sire 
 and leader because they feared him and felt 
 his dominance, and they had a respect for 
 
THE INVADERS 79 
 
 the virulent and sudden flame of their slim 
 mother's wrath. But as time went on, and 
 wild game grew scarce, they could not be 
 withheld from foraging near the villages, 
 and so they presently drew to themselves the 
 notice of men. When a few stray heifers 
 had been done away with, and many sheep 
 devoured, and several innocent dogs shot on 
 suspicion, then the wise old leader pulled the 
 pack sternly together and led it eastward. 
 The eastward march was long and 
 surrounded with many perils. Sometimes 
 there was little game, and the pack went 
 long hungry. Sometimes it was hard to find 
 wooded country to conceal their journeying, 
 and sometimes, forced to take toll of the 
 flocks of some village, the settlers swarmed 
 out after them with a tumult of dogs and 
 guns and curses, which by and by taught 
 caution to the most turbulent of the whelps. 
 Several carried shot-pellets under their hides, 
 to teach them that their leader's prudence 
 had reason in it. And by the time they 
 reached those wild regions of spruce forest, 
 lakes, and tangled watercourses where the 
 boundaries of Maine impinge on those of 
 New Brunswick and Quebec, they had 
 
8o THE INVADERS 
 
 acquired discipline and caution. It was an 
 invasion formidable beyond anything the 
 wilderness had conceived in its worst dreams 
 that now swept on through the high soli- 
 tudes to northward of the Upsalquitch and 
 Ottanoonsis. 
 
 Among the furred and feathered dwellers 
 of these eastern wilds there was no tradi- 
 tion of any such scourge as this swift, 
 ravening pack. Of wolves there was, 
 indeed, a sort of dim, inherited memory, 
 but it had to do with the small eastern 
 or " cloudy " wolf, courageous enough in its 
 way, but not worth having nightmares 
 about. No bear or moose had ever paid 
 much attention to the cloudy wolf, which 
 had been practically unknown in these parts 
 for upwards of half a century. But rumours 
 of the new scourge carried a chill to hearts 
 which had hitherto had little acquaintance 
 with fear, and a sort of obscure panic 
 heralded the invasion all down the wild 
 rivers and the desolate plateau lakes. So it 
 fell that, of the ruling tribes of the region, 
 none for a time crossed the path of the 
 invaders. The swarming rabbits and the 
 abundant deer kept the pack in fair hunting, 
 
THE INVADERS 81 
 
 and at the same time, in their astonished 
 retreat, led it on ever eastward. 
 
 But this which they were now come to was 
 a country of bears, and it was inevitable 
 that the pack should fall foul of them. One 
 day, as the eight swept noiselessly on the 
 hot trail of a deer noiselessly because the 
 wise leader had taught them the need of 
 silence in the dangerous forests of their 
 birth, and they seldom gave tongue except 
 when the urge of the full moon was too 
 overpowering to be resisted they almost 
 ran into a huge black beast which stood 
 directly across the trail, clawing at a rotten 
 stump. They stopped short, spread out 
 into a half-circle, and stood on tiptoes, the 
 hair on their ridged necks and shoulders 
 bristling stiffly. 
 
 The bear was equally surprised. An old, 
 solitary, and bad-tempered individual of his 
 highly individual race, he had neither heard 
 of nor sensed the invasion of the terrible 
 hybrids, nor would he have paid much 
 attention had he sensed it ever so clearly. 
 He was not a subject for panics. Whirling 
 about to face the intruders, he sat back on 
 his haunches, grumbled deeply in his throat, 
 
82 THE INVADERS 
 
 lifted one great paw, with its long, curved 
 claws projecting, and, with lowered head, 
 eyed his opponents fearlessly. He was ready 
 for a fight, without regard to consequences. 
 At the same time he was equally ready for 
 peace, on condition that he was left severely 
 alone. He was too interested in grubs and 
 berries and rotten logs to think of seeking 
 a fight for its own sake. 
 
 The wolves were not hungry, and they 
 felt that the bear would prove no easy prey. 
 In an irresolute expectancy, they waited till 
 their leader should give signal for attack. 
 Their leader, however, who sat on his 
 haunches, with lolling tongue, just before 
 the centre of the half-circle, was in no 
 hurry to begin. He was studying the foe, 
 and also waiting for a move. As befitted 
 so wary a leader, he had the gift of patience. 
 
 It was a gift the bear had not. Presently, 
 appearing to make up his mind that the 
 gaunt strangers had no wish to interfere 
 with his pursuit of wood-grubs, he turned 
 once more to the stump and tore out the 
 whole side of it at one wrench of his great 
 forearm. 
 
 In that same instant the fiery little mongrel 
 
THE INVADERS 83 
 
 darted forward like a snake and snapped at 
 his hindquarters, hoping to hamstring him. 
 With such lightning swiftness, however, did 
 he whirl about and strike at her, that she 
 got no more than a mouthful of fur in her 
 teeth, and only escaped that eviscerating 
 stroke by hurling herself clean over, like a 
 loosed spring. A long red weal on her flank 
 showed that she had not escaped completely. 
 Following in a second upon her rash 
 attack, the rest of the pack had surged 
 forward ; but, seeing that his mate had 
 cleared herself, the leader halted abruptly, 
 and with a savage yelp tried to check his 
 followers. They obeyed, for they saw what 
 sort of a foe they had to deal with. But 
 one, the most headlong, had gone too far. 
 A sweeping buffet caught him fair high up 
 on the chest. It hurled him clean back 
 among his fellows, his neck broken and his 
 throat torn out by the rake of those iron 
 claws. As he lay, twitching and slavering, 
 the leader surveyed him critically and came 
 to a quick decision. It was no use risking, 
 perhaps breaking, the pack upon so mighty 
 an adversary, when their proper quarry was 
 just ahead, and there was no desperate famine 
 
84 THE INVADERS 
 
 to drive them. Summoning the pack sternly 
 to order, he led it aside at a gallop, picked up 
 the trail of the deer again, a hundred yards 
 further on, and left the body of the victim 
 to whatever fate might befall it. The bear 
 glared after them, mumbling angrily, till 
 they were out of sight. Then he slouched 
 over to the body, sniffed at it, turned it over 
 with his paw, and went calmly back to his 
 stump to look for grubs. He had no appetite 
 for either wolf or dog. 
 
 The pack meanwhile, raging and amazed, 
 went on, and in due time made its kill. 
 Feasting on the warm venison, it got over 
 its discomfiture, and its lost member was 
 easily forgotten. But it had learned a 
 useful lesson. 
 
 It was two days after this that the wolves 
 came to the lake of the barrens, and from 
 the dark covert of the fir woods stared forth 
 wonderingly upon the first moose which they 
 had ever seen. 
 
 Two days earlier the wolves would have 
 regarded these two tall, ungainly shapes on 
 the beach, black against the water, as but 
 a kind of exaggerated deer, and would have 
 flown at them without hesitation. But now 
 
THE INVADERS 85 
 
 they remembered the bear. They did not 
 quite trust the colour of these two 
 high-shouldered, long-muzzled strangers, 
 with their wide splay hooves and indifferent 
 air. They waited for the signal of their 
 wary leader, and that signal, again, the 
 wary leader was in no hurry to give. He 
 was uncertain what prowess, what unexpected 
 energies, might lurk in these bulks that 
 seemed so like and yet so unlike deer. But 
 when at last the two moose, daunted by the 
 unknown, suddenly plunged into the water 
 and swam off through the orange glow, he 
 concluded they were a quarry to be hunted. 
 Alone he stalked forth upon the open beach, 
 gazed fixedly after the fugitives for some 
 moments, till he made sure where they were 
 bound for, and then stared appraisingly up and 
 down the shores, as if calculating the circuit 
 of the water. Having apparently decided 
 which would be the shortest way around, he 
 stalked back into the shadows. A moment 
 later the pack was under way at full run, 
 making for the head of the lake, some seven 
 or eight miles distant. 
 
 The pair of moose, in the meantime, 
 gained the opposite shore and stalked up, 
 
86 THE INVADERS 
 
 black and dripping, beside the willows. But 
 they did not stop there. The fever of 
 change was upon them, and when a moose 
 gets going, he is liable to go far. With 
 their long, shambling trot, which seems so 
 effortless, yet so inexorably eats up the miles, 
 they followed along the stream till the 
 orange gleam was left far behind, and the 
 bushy levels of the barren began to lift 
 into low, rounded uplands, sparsely wooded. 
 They had but one purpose to put them- 
 selves as far as possible from those flitting 
 green eyes and padding footfalls of the black 
 fir woods by the lake. 
 
 They little guessed that the path of their 
 indignant flight was converging toward that 
 of the green eyes and padding feet. 
 
 Ill 
 
 IT was a night of early moonrise, and the 
 moon near the full. Far back among the 
 low uplands the stream broadened out into 
 a series of wide, still reaches that formed 
 practically a sort of winding lake. At an 
 abrupt elbow of this lake-like expansion, 
 
THE INVADERS 87 
 
 where a clump of tall water-ash, poplar, and 
 elderberry thicket made a little island in a 
 space of open wild meadow, lay hidden two 
 hunters. They had come up from the coast 
 to eastward, crossed over the height of land, 
 and made their way down into this remote 
 valley, looking for moose. 
 
 Both men carried rifles. One, a gigantic 
 figure of a man, and from his dress obviously 
 the guide, carried also a light axe and a 
 long roll of birch bark shaped something 
 like a trumpet. This was the season for 
 moose-calling. 
 
 Seating themselves with their backs to the 
 trunk of a big water-ash, and in such a 
 position that they were fairly hidden, while 
 commanding a free view of all approaches 
 to their ambush, the two made themselves as 
 comfortable as possible for a long, motionless 
 wait. After some ten or fifteen minutes of 
 a stillness which would strain the nerves of 
 any one not trained to it, Adam Moore, the 
 giant guide, lifted the birch-bark tube to his 
 lips and sounded through it the strange 
 call of the cow moose, harsh and formless, 
 but indescribably wild and lonely the very 
 voice, as it seemed, of the untamed solitudes. 
 
88 THE INVADERS 
 
 It came lingeringly from the guide's cunning 
 lips. 
 
 "Faith, Adam/' murmured Rawson, "but 
 you've got a fetching note ! " 
 
 Moore allowed himself a faint grin of 
 acknowledgment, for this lean, hard-bitten, 
 cool-eyed Englishman, who had hunted big 
 game in every corner of the earth, was one 
 of the very few sportsmen whose commenda- 
 tion he cared a farthing for. After a few 
 moments' pause, he sounded his appeal again, 
 with added poignancy. Then he lowered 
 the birchen tube, laid it across his knees, 
 and waited. 
 
 There was not a breath of air. The 
 unstirring, soundless wilderness seemed as if it 
 had been enchanted into glass under the spell 
 of the blue-white moon. But suddenly there 
 came a far-off sound of crashing branches. It 
 drew nearer swiftly. 
 
 "I thought that would fetch him, Adam," 
 murmured Rawson, no louder than a breath 
 of air in the poplar leaves. 
 
 He lifted his rifle and rose softly to one 
 knee. 
 
 A moment later Moore laid a great hand 
 softly on his arm. 
 
THE INVADERS 89 
 
 "Queer, that," he whispered "there's two 
 coming !" 
 
 Then from the thick growths across the 
 meadow, perhaps three hundred yards away, 
 burst the two fugitives. Even at that dis- 
 tance one could see that they were sore 
 pressed and spent. The cow, in particular, 
 staggered as she came on. The antlers of 
 the bull were magnificent, but Rawson saw 
 only the splendid beast's distress, and lowered 
 his gun involuntarily. 
 
 "I can't make it out," muttered the 
 guide, rising cautiously to his feet behind 
 the elder bushes. 
 
 The fugitives came straight on, making 
 for the refuge of the water-ash grove, heed- 
 less of what perils it might hold for them in 
 their terror of the unknown menace that 
 pursued. Half-way across the meadow lay a 
 fallen trunk, carried there and stranded by 
 some past freshet. The tall bull took it 
 in his stride, but the cow, apparently half 
 blind with exhaustion, stumbled over it, fell 
 forward on her muzzle with a bleating groan, 
 and lay as if she no longer cared what Fate 
 might bring her. 
 
 Finding his mate no longer at his side, the 
 
90 THE INVADERS 
 
 bull halted abruptly, swung back, lowered 
 his huge head and sniffed at her solicitously. 
 He pushed her with his muzzle; he even 
 struck her smartly with the sharp points of 
 his antlers, striving to force her to further 
 effort. Then, apparently making up his 
 mind that his efforts were vain, he stood over 
 her and stared back along the trail by which 
 they had come. 
 
 "He's game, all right!" muttered Rawson, 
 his eyes aglow with admiration. 
 
 The next moment the undergrowth across 
 the meadow parted with a rush, and gaunt 
 forms came leaping into the moonlight. 
 
 "Wolves! Timber wolves!" exclaimed 
 Moore in a startled voice. He had been west, 
 and knew the breed. Eight of them ! He 
 flung down his birch-bark horn and snatched 
 up his rifle. 
 
 Mad from their long chase, the wolves did 
 not hesitate a second, but sprang straight on 
 their quarry, their grey leader half a length 
 to the front. As they came, their bared 
 white fangs and cold eyes gleaming in the 
 moonlight, the waiting bull never flinched. 
 At the instant when the leader sprang for 
 his throat, he reared, towering colossal over 
 
THE INVADERS 91 
 
 the onslaught, and struck out furiously with 
 his knife-edged hooves. Unprepared for this 
 novel defence, the leader, in mid-spring, 
 caught that pile-driver blow full in the face. 
 He went down under it, with his whole head 
 crushed in. 
 
 The next second came the crash of 
 Rawson's rifle. Another wolf dropped. But 
 the rest were already leaping upon the gallant 
 bull's flank and shoulders, striving to pull 
 him down. Raging at the sight, the English- 
 man rushed forward to his defence, firing 
 once more, with what effect he did not stop 
 to notice, and then swinging his rifle like a 
 club. Moore, unable to shoot lest he should 
 strike Rawson, dropped his rifle, swung his 
 axe, and followed with huge, leaping strides. 
 
 Rawson was bringing his butt down across 
 the back of the nearest wolf, erect and tearing 
 at the bull's neck, when from the tail of his 
 eye he saw a smaller, slimmer beast darting 
 at him from the side. Instinctively he shouted 
 "Down! Down!" and delivered a spasmodic 
 kick at his assailant, catching it under the 
 jaw. Had he been less fully occupied with 
 what was going on before him, he would 
 have been much astonished to see this one of 
 
92 THE INVADERS 
 
 his adversaries drop its tail between its legs 
 with a yelp, slink around behind him, and 
 stand staring in bewildered submission. The 
 mongrel had been recalled suddenly to her 
 ancient allegiance by the command in a 
 master's voice. 
 
 The hybrids, with no longer their wise 
 pack-leader to teach them prudence, and 
 maddened by this unlooked-for interference 
 with their kill, now turned a portion of their 
 fury upon their new opponents. For a 
 moment Rawson had his hands full to defend 
 himself against the leaps of a flaming-eyed 
 beast, whom he could only fight off with 
 short, desperate jabs, having no room for a 
 conclusive blow. At the same time, however, 
 at the other side of the melee, the giant guide 
 was swinging his axe with swift effect, and 
 the invaders were reduced to three. The 
 bull, his neck and shoulders streaming with 
 blood, but suddenly freed from close pressure, 
 was lashing out once more with his battering 
 fore-hooves in a blind fashion that made him 
 a peril to friend and foe alike. As luck 
 would have it, however, he grazed the 
 haunches of Rawson's adversary, causing the 
 brute to whirl upon him with a snarl. The 
 
THE INVADERS 93 
 
 diversion gave Rawson a chance for a full, 
 swinging blow, ending that quarrel. Of the 
 remaining two wolves, one, springing up 
 sideways at the guide's face, was met by a 
 low sweep of the axe, which shore clean 
 through his loins. At the sound of his 
 dying yelp, the survivor leaped backwards, 
 wheeled, and fled from the lost battle. As 
 he ran, lengthening himself out belly to 
 earth, Moore swung his axe again. Launched 
 with the unerring aim of the expert back- 
 woodsman, it hurtled through the air, 
 swooped, and clove the fugitive's haunches. 
 The guide strode calmly forward, recovered 
 his weapon, and with a tap on the crown 
 put the writhing beast out of its misery. 
 
 By this time the cow, having somewhat 
 recovered from her exhaustion, was struggling 
 to her feet. Seeing this, the bull turned 
 threateningly upon his rescuers. Rawson 
 jumped away just in time to avoid a savage 
 thrust. 
 
 "It's evident we're not wanted here any 
 longer," he laughed, turning to go back to 
 the grove. As he did so, the mongrel, hitherto 
 unnoticed because she had made herself so 
 discreetly inconspicuous, ranged up along- 
 
94 THE INVADERS 
 
 side him with a confiding humility that was 
 unmistakable. The Englishman eyed her 
 for a second or two in amazement, then 
 remembered and understood. 
 
 "You get out of this, and be thankful 
 you get out with a whole skin ! " he ordered 
 coldly. "You're a turncoat!" He was 
 about to enforce his command with the 
 butt of his gun, but the guide, coming up at 
 that moment, intervened. 
 
 "No," said he decisively, "don't drive 
 her away. I'm glad you've refused her. I'll 
 keep her myself. She'll be worth a dozen 
 of your ordinary brutes that have never had 
 the spunk to kick over the traces. I reckon 
 she's learnt her lesson, an' she won't run wild 
 again." 
 
A Digger of Tubes 
 
 FORCED out of his old dwelling, which 
 had been both commodious and retired, 
 Hackee, the striped chipmunk, moved indig- 
 nantly over to the next hillside, and chose 
 a site for his new home near the south face of 
 the dilapidated stone wall which separated the 
 beech wood from the upland pasture. 
 
 He had had a peculiarly exasperating 
 experience. Quite by accident, an ill-con- 
 ditioned but obstinate mongrel terrier from 
 the farm down in the valley had found the 
 narrow entrance to his underground abode, 
 and had started to dig him out. This, of 
 course, was a vain undertaking for any dog, 
 for not only was the entrance tube several 
 yards in length and leading a good three 
 feet below the surface, but the central 
 chamber, or dwelling proper, had another 
 exit, yards away, by which Hackee had come 
 out at his leisure, to perch on a near-by 
 
 95 
 
96 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 fence-rail and shriek chattering curses at the 
 foolish dog. Having a strain of dachshund 
 among the many which went to his pedigree, 
 the terrier had really done a fine piece of 
 burrowing before he realized the futility of 
 his efforts, and backed out of the hole, with 
 eyes and fur full of dirt, to give ear to 
 Hackee's shrill insults, and trot off with 
 assumed indifference in search of some more 
 advantageous enterprise. 
 
 This had been late in the afternoon. On 
 the edge of evening, a family of skunks had 
 come by, and had at once adopted the roomy 
 burrow which the terrier had excavated for 
 them. Lazy burrowers themselves, the 
 skunks were no fools. They knew how to 
 profit by a good thing when it came their 
 way. They had continued the work of the 
 dog till they reached Hackee's central 
 chamber. To Hackee's voluble and stutter- 
 ing wrath, they had taken possession of it 
 at once, enlarging it to suit their dimensions. 
 They were certainly no company for a chip- 
 munk. There was nothing for it but to 
 yield place to these lazy but formidable 
 invaders. Hackee and his whole family had 
 taken themselves off, stealing through the 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 97 
 
 violet dusk with a silent diffidence quite 
 unlike their chattering daylight audacity. 
 They knew that the dusk was peculiarly 
 dangerous for them; so they had scattered 
 at once, seeking refuge in the burrows of 
 friendly neighbours, or in nooks which their 
 daylight wanderings had revealed to them. 
 It had been a nerve- trying night for Hackee, 
 trembling in a hastily enlarged mouse-hole 
 dangerously near the fox-and-weasel-haunted 
 surface. As soon as the full pink tide of 
 sunrise had driven the night prowlers to 
 their dens, he had set himself to the securing 
 of new quarters. For none knew better 
 than he that, to a ground-squirrel with no 
 underground retreat, this sunny hillside, 
 these cheerful, tranquil beech woods, these 
 open pastures with their calm-eyed cattle, 
 were a region of imminent and deadly hazard. 
 Pending a decision as to the exact spot 
 where he would begin to sink his tunnel, 
 Hackee kept along the old stone wall, 
 because, with its chinks and crannies, it was 
 more likely than any other path to offer him 
 a hiding-place in case of emergency. In 
 the early sunshine there were many other 
 chipmunks abroad, out for their morning 
 
98 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 sip of dew. They were playing or foraging 
 among the leaves, racing in utter abandon 
 of mirth up and down the old wall, or sitting 
 up alertly to chirp and chatter to each other 
 their satisfaction at the promise of a fine day. 
 But Hackee felt himself quite alone among 
 them. He knew that each of them had a 
 safe burrow close at hand. He had no 
 chattering or chirping to do. He was a 
 thing apart, a chipmunk without a hole. 
 And all his wits were anxiously, concen- 
 tratedly, on the alert against the perils which 
 he knew might assail him from earth or sky 
 at any instant. 
 
 He was not even hungry, for the moment, 
 because his anxiety was so absorbing. There- 
 fore it was that he, being the most vigilant, 
 was first to catch sight of a pigeon-hawk 
 which came stealthily through the branches 
 of a great birch tree near the wall, and 
 dropped like a fly-catcher in the hope of 
 capturing one of the morning revellers. But 
 Hackee's piercing chirrup of alarm, ere he 
 whisked into a crevice, had been enough. 
 Every chipmunk heard, and dodged with a 
 celerity which even that swift hawk could not 
 match. The alarm cry passed the length of 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 99 
 
 the wall. The hawk pounced this way and 
 that, zigzagging with a speed to confuse the 
 eye. But not a chipmunk could he catch; 
 and presently, in the sulks, he sailed off to 
 try his luck with less nimble game. 
 
 When he was gone, Hackee whisked out 
 from between the stones, ran on some fifty 
 feet further, and stopped to peer about him 
 carefully. This seemed a likely spot for his 
 purpose, and it was not overcrowded. On 
 the pasture side of the wall a big chipmunk 
 came out from a hole about three feet distant, 
 whisked up the stones, and scolded insolently 
 at the stranger. But Hackee was not 
 insulted. He was a stranger, and he knew 
 he must take the consequences. He proposed 
 to get over being a stranger just as quickly 
 as possible, and to this end he decided to 
 establish himself just opposite his insulter, 
 on the other side of the stone wall. Here 
 the beech trees were scattered, and the sward 
 was close and firm, such as he loved, and 
 the autumn sunlight lay warm under the 
 wall. 
 
 Some three or four feet from the wall he 
 marked a spreading, prickly bush of juniper, 
 under which, as he calculated, he might 
 
ioo A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 begin his digging operations without much 
 fear of interruption. All seemed secure. 
 No hawk or fox was to be seen. The red 
 squirrels and the blue- jays wrangled merrily 
 and carelessly in the trees a sure sign that 
 there was no marauder about. Along the 
 wall and on the close, gossamery turf at 
 either side, other chipmunks gambolled or 
 foraged or scratched at the sod with their 
 clever little hand-like paws. And a soft, 
 irregular tonk-tink, tonka-tink, tonkle came 
 from the line of red-and-white cows loitering 
 up to the pasture from the milking-shed. 
 
 Hackee gave a chirrup of satisfaction, and 
 was on the very point of jumping down from 
 the wall, when a piercing chirr of alarm 
 stiffened him to stone. Everywhere, on the 
 instant, he saw chipmunk after chipmunk 
 flash frantically to its hole, shrieking the 
 great danger signal as it vanished. 
 
 For half a second Hackee's heart stood 
 still, for this, according to the signals, was 
 one of the most dreaded enemies of his tribe 
 a weasel. From this enemy, a swift pursuer 
 and a tireless, implacable tracker, there was 
 but one safe refuge the chipmunk's hole, 
 too narrow at the entrance for a weasel to 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 101 
 
 squeeze himself into. And Hackee had no 
 hole to take refuge in. He knew that he 
 would be smelt out immediately if he tried 
 to hide in some cranny of the wall. For 
 some precious moments he stood there alone 
 in the perilous world, his sharp stripes of 
 black and cream vivid on the foxy red of 
 his cheeks and sides. Suddenly the weasel 
 slipped into view, emerging upon the top of 
 the wall, a long, low, sinuous, deadly appari- 
 tion, with a vicious, pointed face and cruel 
 eyes. He was not more than ten feet away. 
 
 Hackee came to himself. He bounded 
 into the air as if galvanized, came down on 
 the pasture side of the wall, and slipped 
 like an eel down into the burrow of the 
 stranger chipmunk. The weasel was so 
 close at his twinkling heels that Hackee 
 heard the snap of jaws just behind the tip 
 of his tail. 
 
 Exasperated at this escape when he had 
 felt sure of an easy kill, the weasel strove, 
 with a snarl, to force his triangular head 
 down the narrow entrance. As he knew, 
 however, from many a previous effort, this 
 was a waste of time. He presently gave it 
 up, and darted off on the trail of a rabbit 
 
102 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 which was unlucky enough to go hopping 
 by at that moment. 
 
 Hackee knew well enough that, as a stranger 
 to the burrow, and especially as an invader 
 from another colony, he need by no means 
 look for a welcome in his forced refuge. 
 He kept near the entrance, therefore, 
 trembling and making himself small, and 
 hoping that the proprietor would not appear. 
 But it was a vain hope. Within a half 
 minute the proprietor did appear, and rushed 
 at Hackee open-mouthed with a most in- 
 hospitable squeal. Hackee understood very 
 well that etiquette required him to withdraw 
 from that hole at once. But etiquette was 
 of little concern for him so long as he thought 
 the weasel might be waiting outside. He 
 met the attack with the courage of necessity, 
 and for a few seconds the narrow confines of 
 the tube were rilled with chirrups and squeals 
 and flying foxy fur. 
 
 Suddenly the proprietor, indignant at 
 this refusal of Hackee's to go out and feed 
 the foe, withdrew to seek reinforcements. 
 Hackee understood what his withdrawal 
 meant. He had no wish to fight the whole 
 family. Slipping back to the entrance, he 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 103 
 
 stuck the very tip of his nose out and 
 sniffed. The taint of weasel was on the air, 
 but it was certainly disappearing. Very 
 cautiously he put his whole head out and 
 peered around with keen, wary eyes. The 
 weasel was nowhere in sight. For a little 
 he waited there, half in and half out. Then 
 came a scurrying of feet behind him in the 
 depths of the burrow. He darted forth 
 discreetly and whisked into a hole in the 
 wall. The next moment the inhospitable 
 household came forth one by one, and began 
 chattering uncomplimentary things about 
 him which he did not think it worth his 
 while replying to. Slyly peering forth with 
 one eye from his hiding-place, he noticed 
 that all this chatter failed to bring back the 
 weasel. This being proof enough that the 
 coast was now clear, he whisked out, jumped 
 over the wall, and under the shelter of the 
 juniper bush where he proposed to have his 
 front door. 
 
 He began by digging a round hole, per- 
 haps three-quarters of an inch in diameter. 
 With sharp, jerky motions he packed the 
 edges hard and firm, till the diameter was 
 enlarged to a full inch. The earth, every 
 
io 4 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 morsel of it, he carried off in his capacious 
 cheek pouches which stretched far back 
 under the loose skin of his neck to empty 
 it under another bush half a dozen yards 
 away. He was much too wary to leave the 
 fresh earth, to betray him, on the grass 
 beside the entrance; and, moreover, he 
 was too cunning to leave any trail between 
 this dumping-ground and his place of opera- 
 tions. He made the journey to and fro by 
 great leaps, swerving erratically now to one 
 side, now to the other. 
 
 The entrance looked hardly wide enough 
 to admit his head. But that, he knew, was 
 sufficient; for where his head could go 
 through, there could go through also his 
 whole lithe body, which, for all its strength, 
 was as supple almost as a glove. At a 
 depth of less than an inch, however, he 
 began to enlarge the shaft gradually. He 
 worked with a nervous, jerky vehemence. 
 Every half minute he would back out and 
 lift his head whiskers, forehead and ears 
 covered with earth to take a swift look 
 about and assure himself that no enemies 
 were approaching. And his trips to the 
 other bush, his dumping-ground, took place 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 105 
 
 with amazing frequency, so resolute was he 
 that not a grain of new soil should remain 
 beside his doorway. 
 
 The shaft which Hackee was digging so 
 assiduously led straight downward. At a 
 depth of four or five inches its diameter was 
 sufficient for him to turn around in it 
 comfortably. At this diameter he kept it. 
 He could now work with more security and 
 satisfaction, because, being completely hidden, 
 he was not compelled to look about him for 
 enemies every half minute. Turning him- 
 self round and round, he packed the walls 
 of the shaft hard as he went, and so reduced 
 considerably the number of his trips to the 
 dumping-ground . 
 
 Straight downward the strenuous digger 
 sank his shaft through the light soil to a 
 depth of nearly four feet. Then he turned 
 at an abrupt angle, and began running his 
 tube diagonally, with a gentle upward slope, 
 towards the stone wall. But by this time 
 he had done so much excavation that he felt 
 the need of finding a new dumping-ground, 
 it being against his doctrine to make any of 
 his operations too conspicuous. Moreover, 
 having now a refuge, a place that he could 
 
io6 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 call his own, however unfinished, he began 
 to realize that he was hungry. Such a 
 bundle of energy and fiery nerves as a 
 chipmunk cannot go long without feeding 
 his forces. 
 
 Whisking forth from his hole, he sprang 
 to the wall, ran up it, and perched himself 
 on its highest stone to look about. He sat 
 up now with a confident flirt of his tail, 
 chattered a defiant proclamation of pro- 
 prietorship, and proceeded to make a hasty 
 but necessary toilet, combing the earth from 
 his ears and fur. Several other chipmunks, 
 belonging to the immediate neighbourhood, 
 eyed him doubtfully, as if half inclined to 
 combine and drive him away. But his 
 assured air had its effect, and he was not 
 interfered with. 
 
 His toilet accomplished, he sprang down 
 again from the wall and began rummaging 
 for nuts among the leaves beneath the 
 nearest tree. But this was ground that had 
 evidently been well gone over. He went on 
 deeper into the grove. It was a pleasant 
 place for his foraging. The bland autumn 
 sunlight came sifting down through the 
 browning leaves. There was no wind, 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 107 
 
 but the branches were gay with screaming 
 blue-jays and chirring, . jibing red-squirrels ; 
 and from time to time two or three nuts 
 would come pattering down, either dropping 
 of their own ripeness, or jarred off by the 
 tree-top revellers. Hackee was not long in 
 making his meal; and then, being ever a 
 provident soul, he began to cram his cheek- 
 pouches. 
 
 While he was thus occupied, a trim moose- 
 bird bounced down hard upon the leaves a 
 few feet ahead of him, scrutinized him with 
 bright, impudent eyes, squawked harshly, 
 and finally made a rush at him with open 
 beak and lifted wings. But Hackee knew 
 the moose-bird for a mischievous bluffer and 
 practical joker, and he carelessly went on 
 gathering nuts. 
 
 For a few seconds the fantastic bird 
 danced about him, getting more and more 
 excited at finding herself ignored. It looked 
 as if she might almost work herself up to 
 the supreme audacity of tweaking the busy 
 forager's tail. But suddenly there came a 
 scream of warning from the sentinel blue- 
 jay in a near-by tree- top. It was taken up 
 on the instant by a chorus of shrill voices. 
 
io8 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 The moose-bird flew up to a convenient 
 branch, and Hackee, thinking it might be 
 a hawk that was coming, whisked under a 
 root and peered forth anxiously. 
 
 There was no sign of a hawk; but 
 presently he made out two blue-jays, in the 
 next tree, peering and scolding down at 
 something on the ground. Their accents 
 told him it was a fox. If so, this hiding 
 under the root was no place for him. 
 Slipping around the trunk, in the hope of 
 putting it between himself and the enemy's 
 eye, he made a dart for the wall. But the 
 fox saw him and gave chase. 
 
 It was a desperate race, but Hackee won. 
 He whisked down into his hole just as the 
 fox arrived. At the foot of the shaft, how- 
 ever, he crouched trembling. He had for- 
 gotten till now that the unfinished tube 
 might not be a refuge, but a trap. He 
 knew that the fox was a good digger. His 
 heart thumped wildly, and he crowded him- 
 self into the beginning of the level gallery, 
 fearing lest the fox should look down and 
 perceive his predicament. 
 
 If the fox had been young and ignorant, 
 or excitable enough to indulge in apparently 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 109 
 
 futile effort, Hackee's career would have 
 come to an end at this point. But, happily 
 for him, this fox was a wise one. He knew 
 that chipmunks not only had deep and 
 elaborate burrows, but also that they always 
 dug them with more than one exit. How 
 was he to guess that this case was the one 
 exception in a thousand instances? He 
 blinked shrewdly, threw a quick, sharp glance 
 about to see if he might not snap up the 
 fugitive in the act of emerging from some 
 back-door, and then went trotting off in- 
 differently down along the wall, pouncing 
 on the fat locusts as he went. 
 
 As soon as Hackee had recovered his 
 composure, he fell again to his digging, and 
 soon had his level tube advanced a couple of 
 feet. According to the plan which he was 
 carrying in his capable little brain, the 
 central chamber, or main habitation, was to 
 come directly under the wall; and then, for 
 the better baffling of all kinds of enemies, 
 the second entrance was to be on the other 
 side of the wall, in the pasture field. But 
 by this time he was once more hungry. And 
 now he remembered the stores which had 
 been left behind in the old burrow. Some 
 
no A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 of them, doubtless, being in narrow side 
 galleries, would be well away from the in- 
 truding skunks, who had no interest, more- 
 over, in the nuts and grains and roots which 
 make up chipmunks' hoard. He hoped to 
 be able to come at these treasures, by a little 
 tunnelling, without being brought into contact 
 with the objectionable usurpers. 
 
 Reaching the old home and slipping in by 
 the back door, he found that several other 
 members of his household had anticipated 
 him. They had stopped up the back exit a 
 little way from the central chamber, thus 
 cutting themselves off from the skunk family, 
 and they were now busily engaged in feasting 
 on the accumulated stores. Hackee followed 
 their example till his own hunger was 
 satisfied, and then lured them back, each 
 with crammed pouches, to the new home 
 beside the stone wall, where they all fell 
 to with a zest at the work of excavating. 
 
 In two or three days the new home was 
 finished, and all the accessible stores from 
 the old place safely removed to it. The 
 main tube, from the original entrance shaft, 
 ran on a gentle upward slope for a distance 
 of some seven or eight feet to the central 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES in 
 
 chamber, the real dwelling of the family. 
 This chamber, perhaps a couple of feet in 
 length, but considerably less in width, and 
 nearly a foot high to the centre of its arched 
 ceiling, was spread with a thick layer of the 
 finest and silkiest of dry grasses. It lay 
 exactly beneath the stone wall. Off it led 
 several short storage galleries, to be enlarged 
 or duplicated as the accumulation of stores 
 might call for. Another tube, five or six 
 feet long and slanting slightly downward, 
 was run from the rear of the living-room, 
 and terminated in a second perpendicular 
 shaft similar to the first. The top of this 
 shaft was in the open pasture on the other 
 side of the wall, and depended for its privacy 
 on the short grasses fringing its tiny entrance. 
 Thus comfortably established, Hackee and 
 his diminished household for several of the 
 family had meanwhile settled themselves 
 elsewhere slipped without further difficulty 
 into the life of their new neighbourhood. 
 The chipmunks being a friendly folk, there 
 was no more hostility shown to the new- 
 comers, who now took their part as a matter 
 of course in the gambols among the dry 
 leaves and in the chattering conversations 
 
ii2 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 which sometimes went on interminably 
 through the long, drowsy afternoons. Nuts 
 were abundant that autumn, so the supplies 
 in the storage galleries increased till there 
 was no fear of a winter scarcity. And to 
 vary the diet there was a neglected apple 
 orchard a little way down the hillside, while 
 big brown locusts and late grasshoppers were 
 still abundant. 
 
 But Hackee, having once been singled 
 out by the wild wood Fates for discipline, 
 was not to be suffered to slip into his peace- 
 ful winter sleep without further trials. One 
 day two boys and a dog appeared, with 
 apparently nothing better to do than throw 
 stones at chipmunks. In spite of this, the 
 boys, not having guns, were regarded as 
 harmless, it being a poor chipmunk that 
 couldn't dodge a stone. But the dog that 
 was another matter. Dogs might dig and 
 damage good front doors. There was a 
 general chorus of alarm signals, and most 
 of the chipmunks, including Hackee himself, 
 disappeared into their burrows. 
 
 The two boys sat on the wall and began 
 to munch the apples with which their pockets 
 were stuffed. The dog, stumbling by chance 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 113 
 
 upon Hackee's front door beneath the jumper 
 bush, sniffed at it long and interestedly, and 
 then began to bark. The boys jumped 
 down from the wall and " sicked" him on 
 eagerly. But this dog was not one of the 
 digging tribe. He knew he couldn't be 
 expected to crawl down such a hole as that, 
 so, having no idea what was expected of 
 him, he nearly went wild with excitement 
 and anxiety. 
 
 Seeing that the dog was not going to dig, 
 the boys conceived the idea of imprisoning 
 Hackee in his own home. It was not exactly 
 cruelty on their part, but rather an impulse 
 toward vague experimenting. Here was a 
 mysterious hole, with something alive in it. 
 What more natural than to try and kill that 
 something, and see what would happen? 
 They got a long stake and jammed it into 
 the hole, while the dog jumped around 
 them, yelping his admiration of their prowess. 
 To their amazement, the stake went down 
 with the greatest ease to a distance of nearly 
 four feet before it stopped with a jerk. 
 
 "Gee," remarked one boy, "but that 
 fellow likes a deep hole all right!" And 
 he ground the stake home vigorously. 
 
ii 4 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 "S'pose we got him?" queried the other 
 boy, his eyes glued to the stake. 
 
 "Of course!" yelped the dog in an ecs- 
 tasy. 
 
 The first boy cautiously pulled up the stake, 
 the dog scrambling in as if he expected the 
 unknown hole-dweller to follow it forth. 
 The boy examined the point of the stake. 
 There was no blood on it. Every one looked 
 disappointed, and the dog drooped his tail 
 in dejection. 
 
 "No! Missed him, I guess," decided 
 the boy. "But we'll stop up his hole for 
 him, the beggar!" And he proceeded to 
 drive the stake home once more. 
 
 Hackee, meanwhile, filled with curiosity 
 and wrath, had come out by his back door to 
 see what the strangers were up to, and was 
 now sitting on the wall, not a dozen feet 
 away, expressing his feelings with explosive 
 vehemence. 
 
 "Darn that chipmunk!" remarked one of 
 the boys, flinging an apple-core at him. 
 "He's making fun of us !" 
 
 But in this he was mistaken. For Hackee 
 was not making fun. He was cursing them 
 with all the maledictions in which the Ian- 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 115 
 
 guage of squirrel and chipmunk appears to 
 be so rich. 
 
 Of course, it was Hackee's business to dig 
 a new front door without delay. He did, 
 indeed, begin one promptly from within 
 as soon as the troublesome visitors were out 
 of sight. But he and the whole household 
 were already beginning to grow a little in- 
 dolent, in premonition of the long winter's 
 sleep which was soon to come upon them, 
 and after nearly three days the new shaft 
 vas yet uncompleted. 
 
 Just at this critical moment came the most 
 to be dreaded of all the chipmunk's ene- 
 mies, and caught Hackee unready. A black 
 snake, alert in the warm noonday sun, and 
 himself on the look-out for winter quarters, 
 chanced upon Hackee's back door there in 
 the open pasture. Being a snake of prompt 
 decisions, he whipped in instantly and made 
 for the central chamber, feeling sure that he 
 would find some of the family at home. 
 
 They were at home Hackee and three 
 others. As that dreadful black form, noise- 
 less and lithe and but dimly visible, came 
 gliding into the chamber, Hackee and two 
 of his companions darted criss-cross up and 
 
ii6 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 over the ceiling in a mad whirl of despera- 
 tion. But the fourth, an inexperienced 
 young female of the season, was unlucky 
 enough to catch the snake's set, malignant 
 eye. She crouched for half a second, 
 paralyzed. Then, recovering herself with a 
 violent effort, she darted down the old tube 
 leading to the closed front shaft. The snake 
 darted after her at once, and as his tail 
 vanished into the tube, Hackee and the 
 others dropped shuddering from the ceiling 
 behind him. 
 
 When the unhappy little fugitive reached 
 the foot of the blocked shaft, she turned at 
 bay. At the same instant the snake arrived. 
 Striking before she had time to put up any 
 defence, he drove his long, back-set fangs 
 deep into her muzzle. Being not a venomous 
 snake, but one of the constrictor family, his 
 impulse was to wind her in his coils and 
 crush her to a pulp before devouring her; 
 and therefore he wished to drag her back to 
 the chamber. But though she was dazed by 
 the blow on the nose, she was not completely 
 stunned by it, because her assailant had had no 
 room to strike with effective force. Spread- 
 ing herself flat, and digging in her claws, she 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 117 
 
 resisted the snake's efforts to pull her back. 
 Finding the task so difficult, and his appetite 
 unusually insistent, he wasted no more time, 
 but simply began to swallow her, head first, 
 as she was. 
 
 It was a slow process, especially in the 
 beginning. But as che victim was engorged, 
 and her breath finally cut off, her struggles 
 ceased; and in two or three minutes her 
 shoulders, too, had vanished down that 
 distended and writhing throat. 
 
 Meanwhile, the other two members of the 
 family, convulsed with panic, had fled out 
 and hidden themselves in the crannies of the 
 wall. But Hackee himself, being a veteran 
 of many battles, always courageous, and 
 charged with responsibility as head of the 
 household, had pulled himself quickly to- 
 gether and remained in the burrow. He 
 knew well enough that it was all over with 
 his little companion. He understood the 
 ways of the black snakes also, and he 
 could tell by the sounds that came from the 
 depths of the tube just how this ghastly 
 business of the swallowing progressed. As 
 he listened, his rage grew hotter and hotter, 
 till presently, judging that by this time the 
 
ii8 A DIGGER OF TUBES 
 
 assassin would have the victim so far 
 swallowed as to be incapable of quickly 
 disgorging it, he darted into the tube and 
 bit clean through the snake's backbone just 
 at the base of the tail. 
 
 The long, trailing body writhed and lashed, 
 but there in the narrow tube it had no room 
 to coil itself. Hackee raced nimbly along 
 it, heedless of the jamming and buffeting he 
 received, and fell furiously upon the tight- 
 stretched skin at the back of the reptile's 
 head. Flattening himself down upon the 
 body, he clung so tightly that the maddest 
 lashings could not dislodge him, and, of 
 course, the hideously-distended jaw was 
 powerless to seize him. With his keen teeth 
 he bit and bit, now gnawing like a rat, now 
 worrying like a terrier, till presently he 
 succeeded in severing the spinal cord. 
 
 The convulsive lashings and twistings 
 dropped to a strong, quivering motion; 
 but for a while Hackee, in his rage, con- 
 tinued to bite and worry his now impotent 
 enemy, till at last, realizing that his victory 
 was complete, he withdrew and ran out 
 into the sun to make his toilet and proclaim 
 his triumph. When he had informed the 
 
A DIGGER OF TUBES 119 
 
 whole neighbourhood of it, and even con- 
 vinced his trembling household, he returned 
 to the burrow, and proceeded to wall up the 
 old tube firmly to a depth of a good eighteen 
 inches, thus securing to a certainty that 
 the entombed slain should cause no more 
 annoyance to chipmunks. 
 
The Leader of the Run 
 
 HE was a magnificent fish, by far the finest 
 in the pool all shining silver and the 
 blue of damascened steel, fine in the head, 
 massive in the shoulder, trim in the base of 
 the tail, broad in the flukes, clean to the last 
 scale, fresh run from the sea. 
 
 The pool, deep and spacious, was full of 
 clear amber light; for the river was one of 
 those northern New Brunswick streams whose 
 waters, though of an exquisite transparency, 
 are tinged with the colouring of a brown 
 topaz. Through the centre of the pool 
 swept the current in strong, slow swirls, 
 streaked here and there with fine threads of 
 foam from the wild rapids above. But at 
 either side the water lay tranquilly shimmer- 
 ing over slopes of bright sand. 
 
 The splendid fish was not alone, for a 
 good run of his kindred had come up with 
 him from the gulf, and they were all resting 
 
 120 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 121 
 
 a while in this favoured pool before essaying 
 the long stretch of rapids and heavy water 
 which lay immediately before them. But 
 not one of them could compare with their 
 leader for size, vigour, swift alertness, or the 
 purity of the points of colour underlying the 
 sheen of his iridescent sides. 
 
 It was a leased water, this lone and remote 
 branch of the Little North- West; and 
 because it was reputed one of the best 
 salmon streams in the province, the price 
 came high in spite of its remoteness, and 
 much care was given to the protection of it. 
 In spite of wardens and watchmen, however, 
 there were poachers not a few who managed 
 to find their way to the teeming pools. And 
 the salmon, energetic from their long sojourn 
 in the vivifying waters of the sea, and fiery 
 with the urge of spring in their blood, had 
 no care to hide their coming. No sooner 
 had they arrived in the pool than they began 
 to advertise their presence fearlessly, leaping 
 half their length above the surface, flashing 
 an instant all silver in the sun, and falling 
 back with a heavy splash which was nothing 
 less than a summons to all their enemies 
 within remotest earshot. 
 
122 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 It was not long before that summons 
 brought a response. 
 
 From the foamy mouth of a brook which 
 emptied into the lower part of a pool to the 
 right, emerged a dark, lithe beast of perhaps 
 four feet in length. His long, sinuous, 
 muscular body, with its very short legs and 
 powerful, tapering tail, had much of the fish- 
 like suggestion of the seal. His head was 
 short and heavy-jawed, his eyes luminous and 
 intelligent. Dripping from the foam of the 
 noisy brook, he climbed a sloping rock and 
 poised himself rigid as the rock itself while 
 he watched the pool till he had seen two 
 salmon leap. Then he slipped back into 
 the water as smoothly as if he had been 
 oiled. 
 
 The otter was, in fact, as much at home 
 in the water as any fish, except for his need 
 of coming to the surface every now and then 
 to breathe. In the matter of speed, he was 
 able to fairly run down and overtake the 
 slower fish, such as the heavy, pig-like 
 sucker and the fat mud chub; but now it 
 was salmon he wanted, and he knew that, 
 in this case, he must call all his cunning to 
 his aid. Taking advantage of some rocks, 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 123 
 
 and then a long patch of weeds, he crept up 
 the edge of the pool, making no disturbance 
 in the water, till he was above the cluster of 
 salmon, which lay all with their heads up- 
 stream. Then, singling the one conspicuous 
 fish for his prey, with a sudden, tremen- 
 dous screw-like motion, he darted into the 
 shoal. 
 
 The king salmon, as if warned of his 
 deadly selection, had moved uneasily at the 
 very instant of the otter's rush. He had 
 the inestimable advantage, therefore, of being 
 already started. Almost bending his body 
 double in the violence of his spring, he 
 shot aside, evading the doom. But he did 
 not go quite free. The otter's jaws closed 
 with a snap upon the thick part of his 
 shoulder, just behind the gill-covers. But 
 they caught him slantingly. Had he been a 
 lesser fish, even so they would have held him. 
 But with his great weight, and that all 
 muscle and electric energy, he tore himself 
 free, bearing a great red gash in his side. In 
 a flash he was at the head of the pool, in the 
 white smother at the bottom of the rapid. 
 The otter, too wise to attempt pursuit, doubled 
 back like an eel, and snapped up another 
 
I2 4 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 smaller fish which, in its panic, had dashed 
 almost into his jaws. 
 
 At first the deeply-wounded salmon left a 
 trail of blood behind him. But, dreadful as 
 was the hurt, it seemed to have no effect 
 upon his vigour, and the icy water quickly 
 checked the drain, astringeing the edges of the 
 cut arteries. At first he was too startled and 
 shocked to choose his course, and drove on 
 upwards, straight through the smother. 
 Here, of course, where the water was creamed 
 with the foam packed down into it, and, 
 therefore, full of air, there was less grip for 
 the thrust of his tail and fins, and much of 
 his power was wasted. In a very few seconds, 
 however, he took hold of his wits again, and 
 chose his way with more discretion. 
 
 The rapids were long, steep, and much 
 broken a succession of diagonal ledges and 
 chutes and sluicing troughs, extending with 
 hardly a break for several miles. To the 
 river-men it was a place for portaging, only 
 passable in canoes, under certain specially 
 favourable conditions, and dreaded as "bad 
 water" at the best of times. The salmon took 
 it where the rush was strongest but least 
 broken where the solid sweep of the current, 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 125 
 
 no matter what its velocity, gave him the hold 
 he wanted, the purchase on which to exert 
 his tremendous thrust. In such swimming as 
 this, it must be remembered, his mere fins, 
 in themselves, played a comparatively small 
 part, except the great fins or flukes of his 
 tail. His whole body, being one corded 
 bundle of muscle and nervous energy, became 
 now, for all practical purposes, but an exten- 
 sion of the tail, all screw and engine from 
 flukes to gill-case. If one had been looking 
 down from straight overhead, so as to avoid 
 the baffling reflections of the water, one 
 might have seen him go up, a straight, darting 
 shadow, through the most terrific chutes and 
 sluices without apparent effort. 
 
 But it took effort, all the same, for all its 
 appearance of ease. Coming at length 
 through the pounding thunder, the choking 
 smother of the foam strips, and the dizzying 
 confusion of broken, whirling lights to a 
 sort of little cauldron under the lip of a ledge 
 in mid-river, he was glad to rest for a while. 
 Here the current was slackened down by the 
 depth of the cauldron and by the meeting of 
 a strong eddy which cancelled a portion of 
 its violence And here, though the current 
 
126 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 was torn and boiling, he was able to find a 
 nook of comparatively slack water, and renew 
 his strength for the next stage. But here 
 also, surrounded by the thunder and the 
 trampling of the mighty currents, certain tiny 
 freshwater parasites had found precarious 
 refuge. They hailed with delight the 
 arrival of the great salmon, and fastened 
 themselves greedily upon the edges of his 
 raw wound. All unaware of their presence, 
 he carried them with him when he pushed out 
 once more into the current and resumed his 
 strenuous journey. 
 
 Through the rest of the rapids the great 
 salmon found no more places where he could 
 halt. There was no let-up to the quivering, 
 determined rushes with which he drove his 
 way through roaring trough and rolling 
 chute, till at last, worn and bruised, he 
 gained the reaches of tranquil dead water 
 which formed the next stage of his journey. 
 In the first pool where the bottom was clean 
 for he hated mud and stranded refuse he 
 halted, and hung resting, head upstream 
 and fins fanning gently, a few inches above 
 the bright, sandy bottom. And here, in the 
 course of the next hour or so, he was joined 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 127 
 
 by the majority of his fellows whom he had 
 quitted so abruptly in the lower pool. They 
 were all too tired for play, and they had no 
 inclination to feed, being seldom hungry on 
 their return to fresh water; so they all lay 
 side by side in the quiet pool, as sluggish as 
 so many fat suckers. 
 
 That night was still and moonless, with 
 large stars and a blue-black sky reflected in 
 the long reaches of unruffled water. At 
 times a pale winged moth would drop on 
 the glassy surface, and disturb it a little 
 with its feeble fluttering. Presently a big 
 brook trout would rise lazily and suck the 
 insect in with an oily gurgle, or slap it under 
 with a loud, contemptuous flop of the tail 
 before condescending to mouth and swallow 
 it. But the salmon paid no attention either 
 to moths or trout. For some unknown 
 reason weariness after the ascent of the 
 rapids hardly seemed enough to account for 
 it it was not their custom to rise or jump 
 while sojourning in this pool; and the 
 salmon seems to be a great stickler for 
 custom. 
 
 By and by there came a strange, lurid 
 glare striking down through the water and 
 
128 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 illuminating the pool in a confused, distorted 
 fashion. Never before had the salmon seen 
 such a light suffusing the waters, even under 
 the rosiest sunrises of their ocean home. 
 This light was near, and violent, and of a 
 smoky orange, and it threw black, twisting 
 shadows. They all turned their eyes upward, 
 and swam slowly towards it, disquieted but 
 fascinated. Behind the glare, which was 
 moving very slowly upstream, came a long, 
 narrow, dark shape, which at every other 
 second or two made a deep swirl in the water 
 near its hinder end. These fresh-run fish 
 had never before seen a canoe, and in the 
 sea they had learned to distrust all long, dark, 
 moving shapes. But they were too much 
 hypnotized just now by that mysterious 
 glare to have any thought of danger. 
 
 In the canoe there were two men, squatters, 
 and incidentally, during the run of the 
 salmon, poachers. Owning by mere right 
 of occupation, to be sure two little newly- 
 cleared farms on the bank of the stream 
 near by, they held obstinately that they had 
 a right to all the fish they wanted out of 
 these waters, lease or no lease, Government 
 or no Government. And they held with 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 129 
 
 equal obstinacy that they had a right to take 
 them in any way they found convenient, law 
 or no law. So, chancing to know that the 
 warden of that section was twenty miles 
 away upstream, they had come out for a 
 little of that strictly prohibited sport, salmon- 
 spearing by torchlight. 
 
 The man kneeling in the stern of the 
 canoe wielded his short, broad-bladed maple 
 paddle very subtly, so as not to jar the water 
 by any splashing or concussion. The man 
 in the bow stood behind the flaring torch of 
 rolled birch-bark, his eyes shaded from the 
 glare by the brim of his slouch hat, his knees 
 slightly bent for balance and for readiness, 
 and his long two-pronged salmon spear held 
 poised over the side. It was really more of 
 a fork than a spear, this weapon, the two 
 prongs being of springy ash, and barbed, 
 with a long slender point of steel between 
 them, and so disguised that, when the prongs 
 should be driven down on the victim's back 
 with sufficient strength, they would be forced 
 apart, to enclose and grip the writhing body 
 while the steel transfixed its spine. 
 
 Among the fish drawn up to his dazzling 
 lure, the man in the bow marked the great 
 
I 3 o THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 leader, a foot longer than any of its fellows, 
 and his dark eyes sparkled with eagerness. 
 The spear shaft rose erect in his tense grip, 
 his knees bent, and his whole body assumed 
 the lines of a beast about to spring. The 
 immense fish came almost under the canoe. 
 The spear darted downwards, the man 
 seeming to throw his whole weight upon it, 
 yet without losing his balance or too violently 
 rocking the light craft under his feet. The 
 next instant he recovered himself with a loud 
 grunt, and stood erect, cursing eloquently 
 through clenched teeth, and glaring at his 
 spear as if he would make kindling wood of 
 it. He had missed his stroke, and he the 
 most expert spear sman on the river. He 
 couldn't understand it. His comrade in the 
 stern looked at him with quizzical surprise. 
 
 "Best git down to Fredericton, an' buy 
 yerself a pair o' specs, Bill," he suggested 
 amiably. 
 
 Bill told him earnestly of another place, 
 where he could go to, warmer than Frederic- 
 ton. And the canoe was allowed to drift 
 away, that the occupants of the pool might 
 get over their alarm and settle down. 
 
 The cause of the spear sman 's discomfiture 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 131 
 
 was this. The big salmon was not tranquil, 
 like his companions. He was fretted by his 
 wound, which was sapping his strength. 
 Other greedy parasites had fastened upon it, 
 and they caused a burning fever, which set 
 his nerves all on edge. Attracted by the 
 glare of the torch, he came at it with a rest- 
 less eagerness. He knew not why, but he 
 wanted it, and he wanted it at once. When 
 he found another fish, as he imagined, barring 
 his way, he flew into a most unsalmonly rage, 
 and darted at the intruder, to root him aside 
 with his horny, projecting lower jaw. That 
 ill-tempered rush it was that saved him, for 
 at that same instant the man in the canoe 
 had made his lunge with the deadly fish-spear. 
 The salmon felt a numbing blow near his tail, 
 where one of the prongs struck him and 
 ploughed another deep gash. Startled, and 
 quite cured of his infatuation for the fatal 
 flame, he tore away upstream, and never 
 paused till he had put several miles between 
 himself and this inexplicable experience. 
 
 He felt himself now astonishingly weary, 
 out of all proportion to the short though 
 violent run which he had just made. He did 
 not understand how the old wound, with its 
 
132 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 gnawing parasites, and the new wound, with 
 its shock and loss of blood, were draining his 
 forces. But just because his vitality was 
 being so sapped, Nature, ever careful for the 
 continuance of the species, was urging him 
 on all the more fiercely toward the breeding- 
 grounds at the head of the river. Tired 
 though he was, after a few minutes' halt, he 
 continued his journey, leaving the rest of the 
 run as far behind in the feverishness of his 
 haste. 
 
 All that night he travelled, and on into 
 the afternoon of the following day, and came 
 at length to the great basin at the foot of 
 the falls. Here, at any other time, he would 
 have halted long enough to thoroughly 
 refresh himself before attempting the difficult 
 leap. These falls were by far the most 
 troublesome obstacle on the whole river a 
 barrier so effective indeed that none but 
 the most vigorous and dauntless fish of the 
 run ever succeeded in passing it. But the 
 wounded salmon was too driven by the urge 
 of his fevered blood to take any time for 
 recuperation. From the middle of the basin 
 he thrust head and shoulders once above 
 water, as if to reconnoitre the roaring wall of 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 133 
 
 white and amber before him. Then, with a 
 tremendous rush, he threw himself some eight 
 or ten feet clean into the air, struck the face 
 of the cataract several feet from its crest, 
 and, with that mighty screw-like thrust of 
 tail and body, shot straight on upward 
 through the perpendicular column of water. 
 But he had miscalculated his strength. Under 
 the very lip of the fall, where the downward 
 rush was of clear topaz, and so swift as to 
 seem almost at rest, he faltered. The next 
 instant, he was hurled back and trampled 
 down through the smother to the boiling 
 bottom of the basin. 
 
 Half stunned, he made his way to the deep, 
 still water at one side of the pool, and lay 
 quietly under the ledge, seeking to recover 
 his strength. But he could not rest effectually 
 by reason of the ache of his wounds, the fret 
 of the greedy freshwater parasites, and that 
 insistent fever in his blood. When the doom 
 of the wild has once snatched at its prey, 
 and, in part, missed its grip, the unhappy 
 victim seems marked for every stroke of Fate. 
 So, long before the great salmon was 
 sufficiently recovered to properly renew his 
 venture, the sting within him urged him 
 
134 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 forth again. Once more he lifted head and 
 shoulders above water, from the centre of 
 the basin, and eyed the cataract through the 
 rainbow spanning it, to assure himself that 
 he had chosen the best path. As he did 
 so, he saw a smaller fish flash up into the 
 sunlight, shine for a moment like a crescent 
 of burnished silver against the creamy front 
 of the fall, take the clear flood of solid amber 
 above the foam with strong precision, and 
 dart triumphantly on over the gleaming 
 
 UP. 
 
 The sight was too much for his prudence. 
 With a splendid rage, he rushed forward to 
 the foot of the fall, and hurled himself into 
 the air through the iridescent quivering of 
 the light and the whipping shreds of the 
 spray. 
 
 It was a superb leap, two feet further than 
 he had made in his first attempt, and a good 
 foot beyond the mark of his triumphant 
 predecessor. But, alas, it was a blind leap, 
 and it went untrue because of that wound at 
 the base of his tail. He struck the base of 
 the fall to one side of the amber column, 
 where the sheet of water was too thin and 
 broken to give him any hold. Convulsively 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 135 
 
 he thrust and lashed, but the treacherous 
 element yielded instead of giving him the 
 firm resistance which he required. He was 
 swept aside, jammed against a projecting horn 
 of rock, and dashed once more to the bottom. 
 
 This time he was not half, but completely, 
 stunned. For some seconds, unresisting as 
 a clod, he was rolled over and trampled 
 upon by the falling flood. Then the uprush 
 carried him clear, and he went drifting with 
 the slow swirls, belly upward, across the 
 sunlit basin. Presently he came a little to his 
 senses, righted himself, and with a feeble 
 stroke of his tail made toward the quieter 
 water inshore. Dimly he felt that he must 
 recover himself as quickly as possible for 
 another effort. Dimly the vision of those far 
 spawning-beds of white gravel, bathed with 
 icy springs, kept luring him through the 
 darkness of his stupor. 
 
 He should have sought deep water for 
 security; but just now his senses were so 
 gone astray that instinct itself failed him, 
 his doom being upon him. He swam blindly 
 and feebly straight ahead, found the water 
 getting shoal, turned irresolutely, and all 
 at once felt a clutching weight fasten itself 
 
136 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 upon his back, and keen teeth burning deep 
 into the base of his brain. 
 
 With a mighty convulsion he threw off his 
 assailant, but the effort spent the last of 
 his force. The same convulsion threw him 
 forward into the shallows. With a heavy, 
 splashing flop he lay over on his side, half 
 out of the water, the angry gash in his shoul- 
 der turned up to the sun. The next moment 
 his assailant a slim, dark-brown mink, with 
 pointed muzzle and bright, savage eyes was 
 upon him again, and tearing at his throat. 
 But he lay quivering, and knew nothing of it. 
 
 The mink, presently satisfied that his prey 
 was quite dead, strove to drag the body 
 ashore. Here on the open beach, in the full 
 sun, it was impossible to make his meal 
 with comfort. He did not like being so 
 conspicuously in the public eye. He was a 
 marvel of strength, to be sure, for his size 
 and weight, his lithe body a mere bundle 
 of whipcord muscles. But the dead salmon 
 was heavy. Tugging doggedly, he succeeded 
 in dragging it, by jerks, fairly clear of the 
 water. But to get it up the beach and 
 under the shadow of the bushes was quite 
 beyond his present powers. Wisely he set 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 137 
 
 himself to the task of reducing its weight, 
 and at the same time refreshing his energy, 
 by eating as much of it as possible, all the 
 while keeping a furtive, malignant eye upon 
 the thickets, lest some bear or lynx should 
 appear to snatch the prize from his jaws. 
 
 High overhead, in the unclouded blue, a 
 dark shape was wheeling slowly, peering 
 down upon earth with hard, glassy eyes 
 of black and gold. That slow wheeling on 
 motionless wings came to a stop. The 
 splendid spread of pinion drew together, the 
 gleaming white head and dark wing-elbows 
 pitched grandly forward, and the huge bird 
 dropped from heaven like a wedge. The 
 wind hissed in the tense web of his feathers. 
 
 At the sound of that strident hissing, the 
 mink looked up with a snarl of defiance. 
 He made the mistake, for a fraction of a 
 second, of thinking he had to do with a 
 hawk; and in defence of his lawful booty 
 he was prepared, being a dauntless little 
 marauder, to make stand against any hawk. 
 Too late he saw his error. With a cry of 
 rage, he bent himself double and sprang 
 back. But he seemed to spring straight up 
 into the eagle's talons. 
 
138 THE LEADER OF THE RUN 
 
 Game to the last gasp, he bit vainly into 
 the hard, thick-feathered thigh above him. 
 He got but a mouthful of fluff. Then the 
 talons of steel contracted inexorably, and 
 the life passed out of him with a whimpering 
 gasp. The splendid bird opened his claws 
 and tossed the limp brown body aside, 
 scorning to feed upon such rank and stringy 
 flesh. 
 
 With lifted wings he alighted beside the 
 salmon, one foot planted arrogantly upon it in 
 sign that it was his. For a few seconds he 
 stared about him, his piercing, implacable 
 eyes seeming to challenge any one who might 
 care to question his claim to the booty. As 
 no one came, he presently fell to his meal, 
 tearing the delicate flesh with his beak and 
 gulping it in big mouthfuls. From time to 
 time he would raise his beautiful, savage 
 white head, now streaked with blood, and 
 gaze curiously at the sudden silver crescent 
 of some salmon leaping the falls. To him 
 this seemed a useless and inexplicable per- 
 formance. When he had devoured a good 
 half of the prize, he clutched the remnant 
 in his talons, rose into the air with a 
 laborious flapping, and flew off, over the 
 
THE LEADER OF THE RUN 139 
 
 white roar of the falls and the dark masses 
 of the hemlock forest beyond, to the lonely 
 granite peak in whose cleft summit he had 
 his eyrie. 
 
With His Back to the Wall 
 
 IT was a savage winter, the cruellest he had 
 ever known; and, for a bear, he had 
 known a good many. It had begun early, 
 with frosts that bit to the bone, and cracked 
 the trees surprised with too much sap yet in 
 their branches, and sealed away the moist 
 earth, with its grubs and roots and tubers, 
 under an armour-plating of steel. Then had 
 come storm on storm, with no assuaging of 
 the frost, with hard, dry snow like white sand, 
 which drove blindingly and would not pack, 
 and gathered so deep that even the long- 
 legged, snow-shoe-hoofed moose floundered 
 in it belly deep. Even the depths of the 
 ancient fir forests afforded scant shelter from 
 the fury of the blizzards, whose cold ate its 
 way to the heart of the densest thickets and 
 froze the starving wild-cats in their lairs. 
 
 In his amiable and comfortable youth, 
 the great black bear had been wont to keep 
 
 140 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 141 
 
 in mind his mother's lesson, and "hole up" 
 for the winter. Well stuffed with blue- 
 berries and other autumn fruits, with honey, 
 and starchy roots, and all the plump and 
 teeming small fry of late summer, his store 
 of fat had always made him grow drowsy at 
 the approach of the cold, and, in some deep 
 hollow under rock or pine-root, he had 
 curled up to sleep and let the great snows 
 cover him away till spring. But growing 
 restless and morose with age, and more 
 addicted to flesh blood than to the bloodless 
 diet of his youth, he had lost the happy 
 knack of hibernating. While the females 
 and the sleek young males of his kindred 
 were sleeping away the bitter, inimical months 
 of storm, he was roaming the desolation 
 restlessly, wide awake with hunger, hunting 
 with all his craft, and capturing barely 
 enough of the long-legged rabbits to keep 
 an ounce of flesh on his gaunt flanks. 
 
 About mid-February, when all the pred- 
 atory beasts native to the range bears, 
 lynxes, foxes, fishers, and sables were already 
 in the grip of famine, there came a rush of 
 ravenous new claimants upon the game. 
 Sweeping down out of the north in packs 
 
142 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 came the great grey timber wolves, which 
 for the last half-century had been no more 
 than a tradition in this corner of the world. 
 Since his cubhood the old black bear had 
 never known what it was to be afraid; but 
 now, when he heard that wailing and terrible 
 pack-cry quavering over the snow, under the 
 still moon, his heart quailed. And when, 
 chancing upon the trail of one of the packs, 
 he noted the number of the alien footprints, 
 the hair rose stiffly along his neck with 
 dread and fierce aversion. He felt that he 
 could handle half a dozen at a time of these 
 pale-eyed, ravaging intruders, and therefore 
 he concluded that they would hardly presume 
 to seek a quarrel with himself. But he 
 decided that it would be prudent for him 
 to avoid crossing their trail. 
 
 The chosen resort of the bear was a 
 spacious stretch of the fir forest, where the 
 dense coverts favoured his stalking and 
 afforded some poor shelter from the wind. 
 But one day, in savage disgust over the 
 scarcity of anything to stalk, he started out 
 across a reach of barrens to try his luck in 
 the broken country of mixed woods along 
 the fringe of the uplands. The barrens were 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 143 
 
 flat and open, but dotted with innumerable 
 clumps of bush' growth, wherein he felt that 
 he might find grouse squatting, or big snow- 
 shoe rabbits nibbling at the poplar twigs. 
 Far across the open he could make out a 
 black upthrust of rock, with a tumble of 
 boulders trailing off to one side, and toward 
 this he directed his course, with the idea 
 that its recesses might hold some likely den, 
 more impervious to the wind than his fir 
 thickets. If the den should prove to be 
 already occupied, so much the better. That 
 would mean for him a lair and a stocked 
 larder, all in one. 
 
 Out across the grey-white levels, under 
 the low arch of blank, whitish sky, he 
 laboured slowly, his black bulk sharply con- 
 spicuous as he went. The plains, in their 
 savage, white desolation, had the suggestion 
 of naked granite, their scattered and half- 
 buried thickets showing here and there thin 
 lines and blotches and tips of dark grey. 
 A wide-winged white hawk-owl, swooping low 
 over the drift-wrinkles, followed the trail of 
 a weasel which was itself hungrily trailing a 
 panic-stricken mouse. Hunger, desperation, and 
 the implacable cold possessed the scene. 
 
144 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 For some little time, as he moved across 
 the emptiness, the bear had been vaguely 
 conscious of a far-off, wavering pack-cry in 
 his ears. Intent upon his own needs, he had 
 paid no attention to it, beyond vaguely but 
 angrily envying the hunters the quarry that 
 they hunted a caribou, perhaps, or a giant 
 bull-moose, which would give them a long 
 chase, indeed, but a satisfying meal at the 
 end of it. He plodded on, his hungry eyes 
 searching the snow. At last he came upon 
 the fresh tracks of a rabbit, leading toward 
 a deeply-buried thicket some hundred yards 
 to the right. His faculties sharpened to 
 their utmost, he crouched flat till he was 
 almost out of sight in the deep snow, and 
 began to worm his way noiselessly along the 
 trail. It was amazing how small and incon- 
 spicuous he managed to make himself. 
 
 But now, his faculties being all at once so 
 keenly awake, he became conscious of an 
 unusual note in that many-throated cry far 
 behind him. It was not quite the same as 
 when the pack followed easy quarry. There 
 was a ring of hate in it, a deadly challenge 
 and defiance. Moreover, it was nearer at 
 hand; it was undoubtedly approaching. 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 145 
 
 Suddenly the bear stood up straight in his 
 tracks, and with a low growl stared behind 
 him. His heart gave a bound of rage, and 
 then for an instant stood still. It was he 
 himself, this time, that was the quarry. 
 
 For several seconds, being a fighter to the 
 last claw, he contemplated holding his ground 
 and giving battle where he was to the 
 insolent invaders of his range. He even 
 glanced around at the thicket wherein the 
 rabbit lay hidden, thinking, perhaps, to 
 capture it and ease his hunger before the 
 wailing pack should come up. But just then 
 he caught sight of the pack emerging from 
 the edge of the fir forest and sweeping down 
 along his trail without an instant's hesitation. 
 What a horde they were ! The sight decided 
 him. He would be surrounded, and would 
 have no chance to put up a fight. He turned 
 once more and started at a long, rolling gallop 
 for that up thrust of rock. If he could reach 
 it, he could there find some vantage ground 
 and fight a less uneven battle. 
 
 In spite of his bulk and his look of heavi- 
 ness, the bear's pace was swift. His great 
 strength enabled him to overcome, for a time, 
 the cumbering softness of the snow, which, 
 
146 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 indeed, hampered his pursuers as sorely as 
 himself. Gaunt and hard, his wind was good, 
 and his will to gain the rock was invincible. 
 The pack, running now in a grim silence 
 that was more menacing even than their 
 marrow-chilling chorus, came up rapidly, but 
 the start of the fugitive had been sufficient. 
 They were within two score paces of him 
 when he reached the rock. 
 
 The face of the rock at this point was 
 perpendicular and absolutely smooth. Even 
 for the bear, an expert climber, there was no 
 such thing as scaling it. But it gave him 
 what he was looking for above all the 
 guarantee against being overwhelmed from 
 behind. He wheeled like a flash, thrust his 
 back against the rock, rose to a squatting 
 posture of contained readiness, lifted both his 
 armed fore-paws, and faced his pursuers in 
 silence, with lips curled back from his yellow 
 fangs, and his little deep-set eyes flaming 
 blue-green. 
 
 The wolves, digging their fore-feet deep 
 into the snow, brought up short at a distance 
 of less than a dozen feet. This was a quarry 
 such as they had never hunted before. They 
 spread themselves out in a half-circle before 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 147 
 
 him, some prowling restlessly back and 
 forth, some sitting up on their haunches, but 
 all keeping their dreadful eyes centred upon 
 him. Their leader, a little to the front, stood 
 considering; and the bear, swinging his great 
 head slowly from side to side, waited. 
 
 II 
 
 DREADFUL as was that winter to all the 
 wild kindreds of the forest, to Job Thatch, 
 the trapper, in his half-buried cabin behind 
 the upthrust of rock, its menace, at the first, 
 was of small concern. His cabin was snug, 
 he had abundant firewood stacked about it, 
 and he had "packed" in from the settle- 
 ments a certain amount of flour, bacon, tea, 
 and molasses, to supplement the fresh meat 
 which his rifle could be counted on to 
 provide him. The growing scarcity of game 
 mattered less to him than to any other 
 foragers of the wilderness, for none of the 
 furred four-footed hunters could compare 
 with him in efficiency at their own craft. 
 In all but the sense of smell, he was a better 
 hunting animal than the best of them. He 
 could hear as well as the listening moose. 
 
148 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 He could see as far as the lynx, and with a 
 more discriminating vision. On his snow- 
 shoes he could run lightly and tirelessly 
 when they floundered in the drifts, and with 
 his rifle he could kill at such a distance that 
 the wariest quarry whose trail he followed 
 had no warning of his pursuit till the 
 soft-nose bullet dropped it in its tracks. 
 Recognizing this supremacy, many of the 
 lesser prowlers, in spite of their fear and 
 hate of him, took to following him secretly 
 that they might feast upon the remnants of 
 his kills. 
 
 But the price of Job Thatch's confident 
 efficiency was that he never thought to 
 provide himself against ill-chance. He 
 killed for fresh meat only as the need arose, 
 and only such game as came his way while 
 making the daily round of his wide-lying 
 traps. And so, when the ill-chance befell 
 him, laying him up a prisoner in his cabin, 
 he had only the last scant half of a haunch 
 of caribou and a brace of skinny rabbits in 
 his primitive cold storage. 
 
 And this was the way in which the sombre 
 powers of the wild, over which he had always 
 imagined himself so securely master, turned 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 149 
 
 suddenly upon him, and smote him down. 
 While running lightly over the snow along 
 the edge of a gully, a buried sliver caught 
 at his snow-shoe and threw him. With a 
 twisting jerk, he went headlong down the 
 petty steep. As he fell, a pang of horror 
 and anguish went through him, and he 
 heard the bone of his right leg go with a 
 dull, sickening snap. 
 
 For a second or two it seemed to him that 
 this was the end. He knew so well just 
 what it meant, for he knew so well the 
 implacable powers of the wild which had 
 thus turned upon him and got him at 
 so hopeless a disadvantage. The shooting 
 anguish for a moment numbed his will, and 
 it seemed to him best to lie where he was 
 and let the deadly cold do its work as quickly 
 as possible. With the temperature at the 
 point where the mercury grows solid in the 
 bulb, it would not be long before the anguish 
 would pass softly and he would slip into the 
 endless sleep. 
 
 Then his brain cleared, and the old 
 mastery awoke in his will. The White 
 Death which he had so long and confidently 
 foiled should not fool him and finish him 
 
ISO WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 now. The furred prowlers whom he had 
 hunted and trapped should not now come 
 feasting upon his flesh and pulling his bones 
 apart. By sheer resolve he sent the blood 
 surging once more valiantly through his 
 veins, and laughed out loud, hoarsely, at the 
 anguish in his leg. Then he set himself to 
 drag his way back to the cabin. 
 
 First, he had to go directly away from it, 
 seeking the mouth of the ravine, whose 
 steep sides he was quite unable to scale. 
 His snow-shoes he used now on his hands 
 instead of on his feet, beating himself down 
 a track by which to worm his way slowly 
 along. It was a battle, every inch, but his 
 will was unfaltering, his wind like a wolf's, 
 and his muscles as untiring as the corded 
 sinews of a weasel. The frost sank down 
 and closed in upon him in vain, for his 
 struggle kept him in a glow, and the grind 
 of the broken bone at every movement kept 
 stabbing him to a fury of effort. And after 
 seven hours of this gigantic wrestle against 
 death, he gained the door of his cabin, 
 lifted himself on the snow-shoes, as crutches, 
 to pull the latch-string, and fell across the 
 threshold. 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 151 
 
 Now, for a moment, having won, he stood 
 to lose all. Drunk with exhaustion, he told 
 himself he was safe, and was just falling 
 asleep with the door half open. Had he 
 done so, the fire would soon have died, the 
 White Death would have crept in upon him 
 where he lay, and afterwards would have 
 come the prowlers to the unlooked-for feast. 
 But something cried out a sharp warning in 
 the depths of his brain, and he woke up. 
 He shut the door, piled wood upon the coals 
 in the stove, saw the fire well alight, closed 
 the draught, and then slept for an hour on 
 the floor. When he woke up, he brewed 
 himself a kettle of strong tea, and felt that 
 he was once more master of his fate. 
 
 His immediate fear was that, if the broken 
 leg were not set, he would be for the rest of his 
 life a cripple. It was little enough he knew 
 about surgery, but the competent woods- 
 man is nothing if not versatile. Summoning 
 up to his aid every fragment of memory 
 or knowledge or suggestion or hearsay on 
 the subject of broken bones and he found 
 there were a good many such fragments 
 scattered through his brain he proceeded 
 to make himself a set of rude splints from 
 
152 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 the bark and light wood which he kept for 
 kindling his fire. Then, tying the foot of 
 the broken leg solidly to one post of his 
 bunk, he laid the splints and lashings loosely 
 in place about it, and proceeded to pull the 
 ends of the fracture into place. It took a 
 huge effort. At the agony of it the sweat 
 jumped out upon his grey-white forehead, 
 and the breath hissed between his set teeth. 
 At last, with a nauseating, muffled click, the 
 ends came into place. With iron resolution 
 he tightened the splints and lashed them so 
 there could be no slipping. Then, for a 
 little while, consciousness went from him. 
 
 For a week or two the prisoner had nothing 
 more to trouble about than the fierce, shooting 
 pains in his leg-bone, the slow laboriousness 
 of wriggling himself about the cabin with- 
 out disturbing the splints, and the deadly 
 monotony of this still, restricted life when 
 his veins throbbed with energy. He had all 
 the time there was, and in his horror at the 
 thought of going through life with a useless 
 limb it seemed to him a small thing to occupy 
 two hours in getting four sticks of wood into 
 the stove. 
 
 But all the while he had to eat, and he 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 153 
 
 found his appetite not greatly affected by his 
 strenuous inactivity. When his tiny store 
 of fresh meat was all gone, for a few days 
 he fared well enough on his bacon and flour 
 cakes. Then, with a shock that was almost 
 panic, he realized that his supply of these 
 was shrinking with dreadful rapidity. 
 
 Straightway he put himself on strictly 
 limited rations. Then he calculated how 
 many weeks he had provision for. His heart 
 went chasing the thermometer into the depths 
 as he realized that he had not more than 
 enough to keep the life shivering in his body 
 for a matter of three weeks and two or three 
 days. He had no idea how long it would 
 take his leg to get well, but he felt very sure 
 that three weeks and three days would not 
 suffice for the cure. 
 
 Here was the Silent Adversary at him 
 again, and this time not with the rush and 
 thrust of assault, but with the slow siege and 
 implacable patience which he recognized as 
 the more dangerous form of attack. He was 
 not daunted, but he began to feel that he 
 had his back to the wall. 
 
 It was happy for him that his supply of 
 fuel was practically inexhaustible, for he now 
 
154 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 burned it recklessly, lying in the open door- 
 way with his rifle till almost frozen, in the 
 hope of some deer or caribou passing within 
 range. After days of disappointment in this 
 hope, he ventured to writhe himself forth 
 into the snow, and with almost inconceivable 
 labour set a few traps behind the cabin. But, 
 for all his woodcraft, he was unable to quite 
 cover his hopelessly unwieldy trail, and all 
 the wild things, timely warned, made a mock 
 of such futile snares. One rabbit only was 
 his catch in two weeks' trapping, and that 
 he was barely in time to save from the jaws 
 of a hungry wolverine. 
 
 Presently it was borne hi upon him that 
 there was a special reason, outside the 
 severity of the winter, for this unwonted 
 scarcity of game. Understanding came to 
 him when there was borne to his ears, across 
 the stupendous stillness of the moonlit night, 
 that long, high, quavering chorus which he 
 had not heard since the days when he did 
 his trapping on the Mackenzie. " Timber 
 wolves !" he muttered. And, dragging him- 
 self laboriously to the window, he looked out 
 in time to see the pack, running close and well- 
 ordered, sweep by far out on the shining level. 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 155 
 
 After that he made up his mind that it 
 was wolves he would lie in wait for in his 
 doorway. If he could get a shot at one, 
 and save the carcass from the rest of the 
 pack, he would have something, little to his 
 taste, indeed, but sufficing to keep the life 
 in his veins. 
 
 For several days after this resolve, nothing 
 came within sight or sound of the cabin, not 
 even a foraging hawk-owl; and with only 
 three days' scant rations left on his shelves, 
 Job Thatch began to tell himself it was time 
 to take thought for the emergencies that 
 might confront his spirit on the other side 
 of Beyond. Casting up accounts with him- 
 self, he came to the conclusion that, as 
 he had never funked in this life, it was 
 not likely he would meet with anything that 
 could make him funk in the next. He 
 further decided that, as in this life he had 
 always done his best to be square in his 
 dealings with his fellow-men, that Unseen 
 Power whom he had half-consciously recog- 
 nized and reverenced would surely see to it 
 that he got a square deal in the next. A 
 square deal was all that he asked for, and 
 he would rely upon himself to play his hand. 
 
156 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 In the midst of these stoical but bracing 
 reflections, he was aroused by the approaching 
 clamour of the wolf -pack. Snatching his rifle, 
 he dragged himself to the door. 
 
 There was nothing in sight. The wolves 
 were behind the great rock. In a few seconds 
 his trained ear told him that, though still 
 far off, they were approaching on a course 
 which would take them away along the 
 broken ground to the right, and not bring 
 them within range or even view of the cabin 
 at all. 
 
 For a moment he hesitated. The baleful 
 chorus told him that the pack was a very 
 large one, and he himself, dragging a 
 useless and encumbering leg, was hardly in 
 shape to do battle. But his decision was 
 prompt. Better die fighting then die freezing, 
 in any case. He glanced at his rifle a 
 repeater to see that the chamber was full, 
 snatched up a belt of cartridges and his axe, 
 and hitched his way eagerly around the 
 shoulder of the rock to a point where he 
 could view the situation. 
 
 He saw the huge, gaunt figure of the bear, 
 a hundred yards away, straining toward the 
 rock. He saw the ravening wolf-pack close 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 157 
 
 behind. His first impulse was to shoot the 
 bear instantly, bear's meat being good. But 
 he knew that, if he did so, he would taste 
 never a shred of that meat, for the wolves 
 would have it out of sight in no time. He 
 noted the numbers of the pack. He noted, 
 far behind, another and larger pack racing 
 up to claim a share of the spoil. He saw 
 what a hopeless venture he had let himself 
 into; and grimly resolving that the price 
 of his life, in wolves, should be a stiff one, 
 he hoisted himself into a niche where he 
 could brace himself upright and have free 
 play, at the last, for his axe. 
 
 As he did so, he saw the bear reach the 
 rock, whip round, and grimly face the horde 
 of his pursuers. 
 
 "Good for you, old pard!" muttered 
 Thatch. "I'm right glad I didn't shoot!" 
 
 Ill 
 
 FOR some moments the bear sat there on 
 his haunches, eyeing his dreadful adversaries. 
 They were precious moments to him, for they 
 enabled him to recover his wind; but this 
 
1 58 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 the wolves, tireless of sinew and with lungs 
 of leather, never thought of. There was no 
 apparent consultation between them, nor, as 
 far as either the bear or the watcher in the 
 rocks could discern, did any communication 
 pass between the leader and the rest of the 
 pack. Yet all at once, as if on a given 
 signal, the leader hurled himself forward, and 
 the whole pack with him, in silence. 
 
 The leader was in front, but he was 
 leader not by virtue of his superior stature 
 and strength alone. His was the superior 
 craft. He knew what must inevitably 
 happen to the first in that encounter. At 
 the last instant he swerved and sank down- 
 ward. His nearest follower came to the 
 front, and was met by a right-arm cuff from 
 the bear which smashed his head clean back 
 into his shoulders and hurled the lifeless mass 
 clear out over the backs of the pack, where 
 it was straightway seized and torn by those 
 wolves which could not force their way into 
 the fight. 
 
 Though the leader of the pack had evaded 
 that fatal stroke, he was no shirker; the 
 leader of a wolf -pack cannot afford to be. 
 At the instant when the stroke was delivered, 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 159 
 
 he sprang in under the bear's uplifted paw 
 and slashed the tender, exposed flank 
 murderously. With his tremendous length 
 and strength of jaw, it was a savage wound. 
 But the audacity of it was promptly punished. 
 Before he could spring back, his adversary's 
 left descended upon him a quick, chopping 
 blow with all claws outstretched and, with 
 a shattered spine, he dropped beneath the 
 feet of his fellows. 
 
 As he disappeared, the black bulk of the 
 bear himself also disappeared, literally over- 
 flooded by the wave of wolves. But the 
 next instant the wave heaved, broke, and 
 rolled back. Several wolves, with feet in air 
 and bowed backs like puppies, were hurled 
 flying as if from an explosion, and the bear 
 re-emerged, his eyes blazing, his jaws and 
 shoulders streaming with blood not all his own. 
 
 "Bully fer you, pardner!" yelled Thatch, 
 forgetting everything in his excitement over 
 so fine a fight. 
 
 This enthusiastic encouragement was ap- 
 parently lost on the bear, whose whole 
 attention was now occupied in beating back, 
 with lightning strokes, the returning surge 
 of his assailants. But the wolves heard it 
 
i6o WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 the more or less unoccupied prowlers on the 
 fringe of the battle. The narrow green 
 flames of their eyes all turned upon the 
 figure of the man who had shouted. Then 
 they launched themselves upon him, to the 
 number of perhaps twenty. Job Thatch 
 did not take time to count them accurately, 
 for he noted that the second pack was 
 arriving upon the scene. 
 
 The rifle began to speak, almost as fast as 
 he could pull the trigger, and the foremost 
 wolves went down. Most of the others, too 
 ravenous to think of anything but the mad 
 craving in their bellies, stopped to feast on 
 the meat thus provided for them, but three 
 kept straight on. One of these was fairly 
 blown from the muzzle of Thatch's gun, 
 but the other two were upon him before he 
 could get them covered. One he dashed 
 aside from the butt with a smashed fore- 
 shoulder, but the other seized him by the 
 leg. It was the broken leg, and Job Thatch 
 laughed, for those terrible fangs wasted their 
 fury on the splints. His axe struck side- 
 ways. A fountain of scarlet followed it, and 
 the wolf fell backward writhing into the hideous 
 scuffle below. 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 161 
 
 Palpitating from his triumph, Thatch 
 looked across to see how the bear was faring. 
 The battle still went on. Still rose the black 
 but bloodied head, dauntless and furious, 
 over the snapping pack, still thrashed the 
 mighty flails of those ponderous fore-arms. 
 But the new-comers were now sweeping up 
 to the reinforcement of their discouraged kin, 
 and Thatch saw that the fierce old fighter 
 would soon be downed. Snatching up his 
 rifle again, he hurriedly refilled the chamber, 
 and began pumping lead into the new 
 arrivals, the foremost of whom had already 
 halted to devour their wounded kin. 
 
 The effect was almost immediate, as far as 
 the bear was concerned. His most pressing 
 assailants, already wavering, were daunted 
 by the sounds of the rifle-shots, and drew 
 off sullenly, lingering, as they went, to tear a 
 mouthful or two from a dying comrade. The 
 bear, suddenly realizing himself victorious, 
 clutched the last of his retiring assailants 
 in a death-grip and fell to biting at him 
 with mingled rage and hunger. 
 
 The new arrivals, utterly engrossed in 
 assuaging their famine, did not seem to 
 notice for a few minutes how death was 
 
162 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 being dealt among them. But, as their 
 pangs ceased to torment them, they once 
 more became alive to other considerations. 
 One, just nicked by a bullet, yelped and bit 
 at the wound. Then on a sudden all the 
 survivors seemed to take note together of 
 the fact that their fellows were dropping 
 about them, some to instant stillness, some 
 into kicking and writhing paroxysms. 
 Their ears turned towards the shattering 
 rifle-shots; their eyes all stared with sudden 
 fear at the figure of the man erect in his 
 niche. Then their grey, feathered tails 
 curled down between their haunches, they 
 ran quickly together as if herded by a 
 threatening voice, and all swept off along 
 the base of the broken ground, not pausing 
 to look back. 
 
 The bear, the fiercest pangs of his hunger 
 satisfied, lifted his gaunt and bleeding head 
 and stared defiantly at Job Thatch. If this 
 was another enemy well, he was ready for 
 another fight. Thatch slowly lifted his rifle. 
 
 "Bear meat's a sight better eathV than 
 wolf/' he muttered. 
 
 Then he lowered the weapon again. 
 
 "No, old pardner," he continued, speaking 
 
WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 163 
 
 aloud and directly towards the doubtful- 
 looking beast, "that would be a low-down 
 trick to play on ye, seein' as how we've 
 fought shoulder to shoulder, so to speak. 
 An' a right slick fight yeVe put up ! Here's 
 my best wishes, an' may ye keep clear of my 
 traps!" 
 
 The bear, as if uneasy at the sound of the 
 human voice, moved off slowly, dragging one 
 of the dead wolves, and looking for a retreat 
 in the rocks where he could be out of range 
 of the man's disquieting eye. Then Thatch 
 came down from his post of vantage. He 
 picked out three of the youngest and least 
 skinny of the carcases, tied them together by 
 the legs, and started laboriously to drag them 
 to the cabin, planning to come back for 
 more after he had set a dinner on to boil. 
 He felt a little ashamed of his weakness in 
 having let the bear go free, but, after some 
 consideration, he managed to justify him- 
 self. 
 
 "That bear was nawthin' but a bag o' 
 bones," he murmured. "He was old an' 
 tough, an' what there was of him would 'ave 
 been mighty rank eatin'. But young wolf, 
 well boiled, can't be no worse'n dawg!" 
 
164 WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL 
 
 He hitched himself slowly into the cabin 
 with his trophies, his grim face aglow with 
 triumph. In his vague but mystical imagina- 
 tion he could perceive the vast, silent, unseen 
 powers of the wild, which had so treacherously 
 conspired against him, drawing back in grave 
 defeat. 
 
King of Beasts 
 
 water being almost as warm as 
 milk to his naked body, and buoyant 
 by reason of its heavy percentage of salt, 
 Johns felt that he could keep himself afloat 
 in it indefinitely. A swimmer strong and 
 accomplished, he had nothing to do but 
 keep swimming straight ahead, at his leisure, 
 till either he should chance upon land or 
 hunger and thirst should do for him. To 
 be sure, there were other perils for these 
 tropic waters were the home of shark, saw- 
 fish, and killer. But the unpleasant possi- 
 bility of such an encounter he resolutely 
 dismissed from his calculations, as one of 
 those hazards of the game which he could 
 not hope to affect by taking thought. 
 
 The insane fury of the hurricane having 
 blown itself out some hours earlier, before 
 the wallowing hulk which had carried him 
 went down, Johns now found himself in a 
 
 165 
 
166 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 comparative quiet. On the crests of the 
 tremendous rollers there was still wind 
 enough to whip off the foam, and to lash 
 him disconcertingly; but in the vast, 
 rocking valleys all was delicious peace. He 
 manoeuvred cleverly to keep himself in this 
 peace, while he rested and recovered himself 
 from that strangling struggle in the vortex 
 where the hulk had gone down. From time 
 to time he drove himself head and shoulders 
 above water, glancing about eagerly under 
 the starlight to see if there were any others 
 of the ship's company left alive. But 
 thinking how hardly he himself, with all his 
 strength and water craft, and his forethought 
 in stripping naked for the final ordeal, had 
 won back to the air out of that appalling 
 vortex, he was not surprised to find himself 
 alone. 
 
 At first all his life-energies were absorbed 
 in the effort to recover from that literal and 
 material descent into hell. There was no 
 room in him for emotion for anything but 
 the purpose to live. Then, as he felt him- 
 self swimming strongly, and breathing once 
 more with comfort in the smooth, deep 
 hollows of the sea, and looking up clear-eyed 
 
KING OF BEASTS 167 
 
 at the great stars hung low in the velvet sky, 
 a horror of loneliness gripped him. He had 
 touched solitude before, and gently shrunk 
 from it. He had imagined it, magnified a 
 thousandfold, and quailed at the vision. But 
 now, for the first time, he knew it; and for 
 a moment it was as if a gauntlet of ice had 
 cupped itself stealthily under his heart. 
 
 It seemed to him that if he had had a 
 plank or a spar, a bit of railing to lay his 
 hand on, or if he had retained some tiniest 
 rag of a garment, the solitude would have 
 been less monstrous. But he was just one 
 naked spark of human life amid the 
 immeasurable, endless succession of the seas, 
 under the still sky. The dead seemed less 
 unfriended, swaying together blindly and 
 silently in those unimaginable depths beneath 
 him. 
 
 Most men, in his situation, would have 
 thrown up their arms and gone down, cowed 
 by the thought that they had the whole ocean 
 for adversary. But to give up was not 
 in the breed of this man Johns. It was 
 not even, for the fraction of a second, a 
 conscious impulse. He could not imagine 
 himself giving up a battle, however hopeless, 
 
168 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 as long as a single faculty was left him with 
 which to give expression to his will. His 
 doctrine was that the time for a man to give 
 in is not till he's quite dead and knows it. 
 
 The question to which te now set his 
 reviving faculties was the direction in which 
 he should swim. The night was still young, 
 the long-battered hulk having gone down 
 about two hours after sunset. 
 
 Coolly weighing all the probabilities a vague 
 enough business, seeing that for two days 
 at least no one on the ship had had any sure 
 notion as to their latitude or longitude he 
 made up his mind to swim due west. That 
 course seemed to offer him the best hope of 
 making land a fair enough hope, indeed, 
 whatever direction he might take in this 
 sea of a myriad islands. The prime essential 
 was to take one course and stick to it, lest 
 he should wear out his energies by swimming 
 in a circle. He had the stars to shape his 
 course by; and being a roving journalist 
 by profession, and his head stuffed with 
 diversified, though not always exact, know- 
 ledge, he knew his stars well enough for 
 the purpose. His great hope was to make 
 land before full day before the sun, blazing 
 
KING OF BEASTS 169 
 
 down upon him from a sky of brass, should 
 set his brains seething in his unsheltered 
 skull, and drive him mad with thirst. He 
 knew that any land he might hope to reach 
 in these seas was bound to be a land of 
 savage beasts or yet more savage men. But 
 the problem of what he should do on 
 reaching the said land was one that, with 
 all his dogged optimism, did not seem to 
 press for immediate solution. If ever he 
 should be permitted to confront it, he would 
 then give it his best attention. 
 
 With a leisurely, strength-conserving 
 stroke Johns swam onward, on his side. 
 As he neared the crest of each long wave, 
 and felt the lash of wind and spindrift, he 
 would put on a spurt, and dive through the 
 topmost smother, in order to regain as soon 
 as possible the comparative quiet of the 
 lower slopes. But the wind, as if satisfied 
 with its accomplishment, was now falling 
 rapidly, and soon even the crests ceased 
 to give him any trouble. The gale fell to 
 a breeze, and then, very gradually, died 
 down altogether, except for an occasional pant- 
 ing puff, like a deep breath drawn sobbingly 
 after a paroxysm of excitement. 
 
170 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 As Johns swam on, the dark, heaving 
 surfaces about him fell smooth in oily 
 patches, which broke into swirls of milky, 
 phosphorescent flame, seeded with star-dust, 
 around the surging of his stroke. This 
 intense phosphorescence of the tropic waters 
 was a long familiar sight to him, but now, 
 as he swam, he took note of it more minutely 
 than ever before, merely to occupy his mind. 
 The tiny sparks of sharp, instantaneous light 
 appearing and disappearing in the filmy, 
 eddying glow seemed to him like eyes, 
 derisive and vindictive, taking observation 
 of his course and laughing to think how it 
 would end. Well, he cared little for their 
 mockery, but he would disappoint their 
 malignant expectations. Throughout that 
 interminable night he amused himself with 
 this fancy, till at last the stars began to pale 
 hurriedly, and then the precipitate tropic 
 dawn flared up along the tumbling horizon. 
 
 It flared upon a low reef, scourged by 
 breakers, some half-dozen miles away, with 
 a fringe of palms beyond it, and a humped 
 hill, purple-green, crouching a league or so 
 inland. 
 
 The man gave a low laugh of exultation, 
 
KING OF BEASTS 171 
 
 changed his course to the right, and swam 
 straight for the reef. But he swam very 
 slowly now, husbanding his strength for the 
 final struggle with the breakers. 
 
 When, at last, he came within a few 
 hundred yards of the thundering and 
 shattering line of breakers, now hurling 
 their cataracts clean across the reef, he saw 
 that a landing at this point would be 
 impossible, even for an expert surf-rider 
 like himself. But he saw also that the land at 
 this point seemed to be a sort of promontory, 
 thrust out into the sea upon his right. He 
 turned yet again to the right, therefore, and 
 swam on patiently in a line parallel with 
 the roaring surf. After another couple of 
 hours the sun by this time having turned 
 to molten brass, and forcing him to keep his 
 head continually drenched he rounded the 
 promontory, and came at length, as he had 
 hoped, to a place where the surf, under the lee 
 of the land, was less unmanageable. Selecting 
 a massive roller, whose breaking point he 
 thought he could calculate, he raced shore- 
 ward with its rush, keeping well behind its 
 gathering crest, and dropping back, at the 
 last, to avoid its shattering fall. In its 
 
172 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 shuddering collapse his feet found bottom, 
 and, hurling himself forward, he plunged 
 into the lagoon before the next breaker 
 could overtake him. 
 
 A mile away, across still waters, lay a 
 white-gold beach, ablaze in the sun, with a 
 shallow rivulet threading its way across it. 
 
 Instantly wary, Johns swam slowly toward 
 shore, scanning every tree and mass of 
 jungle for sign of dangerous life. Some 
 parrakeets, chattering and screaming sociably 
 together in the tree-tops near the brook, 
 presently served to assure him that there 
 were no human beings or marauding beasts 
 astir hi the immediate neighbourhood. He 
 did not know what to expect in this unknown 
 land which he suspected to be some island 
 because he had no means of judging 
 whether it was an outlying member of the 
 New Guinea group or part of the Sumatran 
 system. He knew that if it belonged to the 
 New Guinea group it would have no wild 
 animals more formidable than a pig, except, 
 of course, for the snakes. If, on the other 
 hand, this was an outpost of the Sumatran 
 system, he knew he might expect to find 
 here all the fiercest beasts of the Malay 
 
KING OF BEASTS 173 
 
 Peninsula. On the whole, however, he 
 hoped for the latter alternative, for there 
 were no wild animals on the surface of the 
 round green earth which he dreaded as he 
 did the wild men of the New Guinea 
 jungles. 
 
 Wading ashore at the mouth of the stream, 
 Johns threw himself down and drank deeply 
 of the sweet and pure though almost tepid 
 water. Then, seeking the nearest shade, he 
 sat down with his back to a tree and his 
 eyes on the thickets, to rest himself and take 
 stock of his chances. He was desperately 
 sleepy after the all-night swim and the days 
 of strain and suspense which had preceded 
 it, but he was unwilling to sleep till he 
 had done some hard thinking. Thinking, 
 however, soon grew impossible. Finding 
 his eyelids dropping together in spite of 
 himself, and fantastic visions chasing through 
 his brain between one eyewink and another, 
 he climbed high into the true, interlaced a 
 couple of neighbouring branches to make him 
 a support, and promptly and heartily fell 
 asleep. 
 
 For some hours, through the heavy heat 
 of midday and well on into the afternoon, 
 
174 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 he slept the heavy sleep of exhaustion, but 
 was awakened at last by hunger and by the 
 pains of his cramped and intolerable resting- 
 place. He rubbed his stiffened limbs back 
 to life, and then, recognizing that this tree 
 was well suited to be his refuge for the 
 present, being one that he could swing 
 himself into rapidly, he broke off a number 
 of branches and wove himself a fairly secure 
 platform, whereon he spread smaller branches 
 and foliage till he had made a passable bed. 
 This gave him a reassuring animal sense 
 of possession. He had a lair something 
 standing for a home. Then he clambered 
 to the ground and went looking for something 
 to eat. 
 
 He soon saw that the food supply, of 
 sorts, was not going to cause him much 
 worry. He had no more to do than reach 
 out of his own tree into the branches of 
 its next neighbour to have all the ripe 
 mangosteens that he could desire. Not a 
 hundred paces away was a grove of wild 
 plantains. He felt sure he would find the 
 nourishing durian not far off, and plenty 
 of succulent shell-fish in the waters of 
 the lagoon. Having satisfied his hunger 
 
KING OF BEASTS 175 
 
 discreetly on mangos teens and plantains, he 
 broke off and trimmed a slender but heavy 
 branch to make himself a club, and then, as 
 naked as the first man who came down out 
 of the tree-tops to challenge the supremacy 
 of his four-footed rivals, he emerged from 
 the shade and strode almost haughtily down 
 the beach to the waterside. Strong and lithe, 
 and in perfect form, instead of being daunted 
 by his utter nakedness and defencelessness, 
 his spirit rose all the more resolutely to meet 
 the perils which he knew must lie before him. 
 
 The beach he now observed to be quite 
 liberally strewn with driftwood and wreckage. 
 Among this, after much picking and choosing, 
 he found a fragment with a spike in one end 
 of it, which made a far more effective weapon 
 than his rough branch. Finding it handy 
 and well-balanced, he swept a challenging 
 glance along the dense banks of foliage with 
 all their unknown menace, then set himself 
 to gathering the choicest shell-fish for his 
 supper. He took them up to his tree, and 
 there, sitting with his back against the trunk, 
 he made a hearty meal before climbing to 
 his retreat in the branches. 
 
 So far he had seen no sign of life but a 
 
176 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 few monkeys, many parrakeets and cockatoos, 
 and a flight of rosy flamingoes. From the 
 unrifled wreckage on the beach, much of it 
 of a character that could not fail to interest 
 any intelligent savages, he concluded that 
 this neighbourhood was not inhabited or 
 frequented by man. If it was the haunt of 
 any of the larger beasts, he felt sure the fact 
 would manifest itself around sunset, when 
 they would probably come down to drink at 
 the sweet- water stream. 
 
 For proof of the justice of his reasoning 
 he had not long to wait. While the sunset 
 was yet striking level through the trees, and 
 the sky yet aglow with pale colour, there was 
 a heavy trampling amid the undergrowth, 
 and a herd of wild buffalo came rolling down 
 to the brook. They were some couple of 
 hundred yards upstream from Johns's tree, 
 but near enough for him to recognize their 
 type. 
 
 "If those chaps are here," he muttered 
 discontentedly, "I'm in for leopards, and 
 possibly even a tiger or two. I'll have to 
 be keeping my eyes peeled." 
 
 And he made up his mind to equip 
 himself, on the morrow, with more weapons, 
 
KING OF BEASTS 177 
 
 particularly with something in the way of a 
 lance or spear, that he might do battle at 
 longer range than his club would suffice for. 
 He mused with longing on his repeating 
 rifle and his brace of handy thirty-eights 
 gone down with the ship. From these futile 
 regrets he moderated his dreams to the 
 craving for a good bow and arrows, with 
 which he could soon supply himself if only 
 he had a knife. But this was as vain a 
 dream as that of the rifle and the revolvers. 
 He pulled himself together with a little 
 soundless laugh, squared his shoulders, 
 examined critically his long, sinewy hands 
 and the muscles of his naked body, and 
 thrilling suddenly to the thought that he 
 had got down to the bare bed-rock of un- 
 aided manhood, he vowed he would prove 
 himself, against all assailants, a more efficient 
 animal than the best of them. 
 
 As the chance of the wilds would have it, 
 he had not long to wait before putting his 
 resolution to the test. The stream rippling 
 beneath the tree, muddied by the visit of the 
 buffalo, had not had more than time to run 
 clear, when a couple of small deer came down 
 to drink at it. Wary of ambush, they 
 
178 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 sought its banks in the open, well below 
 Johns's tree, and they drank timorously, 
 lifting their heads alternately every other 
 second to keep watch. For all their 
 vigilance, they could not see the enemy 
 which was stealthily trailing them. It was 
 a slender, vividly-spotted ocelot, which came 
 stealing after them as noiselessly as a shadow, 
 keeping well behind the screen of Johns's 
 tree. Arriving at the base of the trunk, the 
 great cat flattened herself to the ground and 
 peered around cautiously, apparently in doubt 
 as to whether she was near enough to make 
 a successful rush upon the quarry. 
 
 Before she could make up her mind, the 
 long vigilant ears of the deer seemed to 
 catch some sound of menace back in the 
 jungle. For just a fraction of a second the 
 two stood rigid, ears, eyes and noses 
 directed toward the sound. Then, with 
 a bound so light that it seemed as if they 
 were lifted by a breath, they cleared the 
 brook and fled away down the beach. The 
 ocelot, baring her long white teeth in her 
 disappointment, darted up into the tree, and 
 peered back over her tracks to see what had 
 given her quarry the alarm. Detecting 
 
KING OF BEASTS 179 
 
 nothing, she started to climb higher, as if to 
 secure a better view and was confronted by 
 the steady eyes of the man, staring down 
 upon her over the edge of his platform. 
 
 Shrinking back with a startled snarl, and 
 ears flattened to her skull, she crouched on 
 her branch and glared upwards into the 
 man's eyes. But Johns did not regard an 
 ocelot as worth taking seriously. She was 
 nothing more to him than a superior kind 
 of wild cat. But he did not want her or 
 her kind trespassing upon his tree. "Skat!" 
 he ordered sharply, and clapped his hands. 
 The astonished animal, with tail rigid and 
 enlarged, dropped out of the haunted tree 
 and scurried into the jungle. 
 
 " That's good enough for the likes of 
 you," chuckled the man, and set himself to 
 arrange his bed more comfortably. 
 
 As the twilight fell swiftly into a starlight 
 dark, Johns became unable to distinguish 
 the forms which sought the waterside. They 
 kept close to the edge of the jungle, nothing 
 more than indeterminate moving shadows, 
 which did little more than touch the water 
 and vanish. But occasional heavy tramplings 
 and splashings revealed to him that some of 
 
i8o KING OF BEASTS 
 
 the visitors, whatever their character, were 
 of considerable bulk. Once, some little 
 distance back in the jungle, there was an 
 agonized, bleating scream, followed by a 
 brief threshing among the undergrowth, 
 and Johns inferred that some creature of 
 the deer or goat tribe had fallen prey to the 
 ocelot. The sound was followed by an 
 unseen but noisy stampede from the brook- 
 side. Then fell a stillness that was intensified 
 rather than broken by the booming of the 
 surf on the outer reefs. 
 
 The warm, sea-scented air was like an 
 opiate bath, and Johns now felt himself 
 overpowered with drowsiness. He began to 
 persuade himself that here on his platform 
 he might safely go to sleep, in spite of all 
 the marauding life now astir throughout the 
 jungle. He knew well enough, at the back 
 of his brain, that it would be madness, but 
 he was just beginning to yield, to slip away 
 into visions, when a honey-coloured light 
 flooding in from sea aroused him. The 
 moon was just rising. He stared out at it, 
 his heart smitten with a sudden sense of 
 infinite and eternal desolation. Then a 
 faint sound behind him caught his ear, and 
 
KING OF BEASTS 181 
 
 he turned his head. There by the edge of 
 the stream, his spots clear in the level light, 
 his flat, cruel head uplifted to eye the moon, 
 stood an enormous leopard. 
 
 Johns knew that a leopard could climb a 
 tree as nimbly as the ocelot. Without a 
 sound he reached for his little club, and felt 
 the spike in the end of it to see that it was 
 secure. He wished that he had had the 
 forethought to provide himself with a spear. 
 But his spirit rose confidently, and his sinews 
 tightened, to the doubtful encounter that 
 seemed to lie before him. 
 
 Presently the leopard began to sniff the 
 air as if he detected a smell that puzzled 
 him. That it was a smell which excited his 
 hostility was plain to be seen from the 
 flattening back of his ears and the twitching 
 of his tail. But apparently this man smell 
 was not familiar to him. He crept about 
 stealthily till he came upon the man's 
 footprints. On the instant he stiffened into 
 vigilant preparedness. Here was something 
 unknown and dangerous. Very circumspectly 
 he followed the trail to the tree, sniffed 
 at the trunk, and lifted his head to stare 
 up among the branches. 
 
1 82 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 The man looked down coolly into that pale, 
 cruel glare. 
 
 The tree being now penetrated everywhere 
 by the level rays, Johns knew that his light 
 skin must make him very clearly visible to 
 the foe. He slightly turned his head so 
 that the moon would illuminate his face, and 
 gazed down into the brute's uplifted eyes. 
 Then he began to talk. 
 
 1 "You clear out of this!" he ordered, very 
 slowly, syllable by syllable, in a voice of iron. 
 "You mind your own affairs, and keep your 
 nose out of mine !" 
 
 The beast seemed to hesitate. His eyes 
 shifted once or twice, to return instantly to 
 those of the man. That steady, commanding 
 gaze told him clearly enough that here was 
 no trembling prey, but an adversary, ready 
 for him and unafraid. How dangerous an 
 adversary it might be, that pale-coloured 
 being with the unswerving eyes, he w r as 
 unable to judge. It looked to be as big as 
 himself, and it was certainly of a most re- 
 markable and unheard-of appearance. Then 
 the sounds it was making. They were not 
 loud, but there was an incomprehensible 
 menace in them. Savage and bloodthirsty 
 
KING OF BEASTS 183 
 
 as he was, the leopard was not really seeking 
 a fight for its own sake. He was accustomed 
 to seeing panic terror in eyes that met his. 
 It was a victim, not an antagonist, that he 
 was in search of. He recognized, of course, 
 that there were creatures more formidable 
 than himself. The tiger, for instance, he 
 gave the widest possible berth to. And to 
 the old bull buffalo he discreetly yielded way 
 if they met in the forest trails. Could it be 
 that this creature in the tree was also his 
 master ? 
 
 "This is my tree," continued the cold 
 voice above him, slow word by word. "You 
 keep yourself out of it. Get ! " 
 
 There was a confidence, a decisiveness in 
 the tones that the puzzled beast found very 
 disconcerting. Gradually he seemed to con- 
 clude that he had no particular quarrel with 
 this self-assured stranger staring down upon 
 him from the branches. He turned away 
 his head and pretended, for a few seconds, 
 to forget the stranger's existence. Then he 
 wheeled about and went padding off, without 
 haste, into the jungle. 
 
 Though Johns thrilled with exultation 
 at this significant victory, he drew a deep 
 
1 84 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 breath of relief when the leopard had 
 vanished. For he knew that, with his slight 
 weapon and his insecure foothold in the tree, 
 the contest, had it been forced upon him, 
 must have been a doubtful one. He realized 
 that he must not let himself sleep, except 
 during full day. He spent the rest of the 
 night devising schemes for making his retreat 
 in the tree more secure, and for equipping 
 himself with more and better weapons. 
 Throughout the night, at intervals, others of 
 the jungle-dwellers came down to the stream 
 to drink, mostly varieties of the deer tribe, a 
 few more buffalo, some small animals which 
 he did not recognize, another ocelot or two, 
 and once again a leopard, or, perhaps, as he 
 concluded, the same one. About sunrise 
 these visits came to an end. Then for a 
 couple of hours he slept heavily. 
 
 He awoke with a start, and a conviction 
 that the leopard was climbing the tree to 
 attack him. He gripped his club and leaned 
 over the edge of his platform, wide awake 
 and ready for the battle. But there was 
 nothing in sight more threatening than a 
 big rose-crested cockatoo, which hung head 
 downward from a neighbouring branch, 
 
KING OF BEASTS 185 
 
 erected its gorgeous top-knot, and eyed him 
 with a kind of solemn malevolence. He 
 burst into laughter, and the bird flew off 
 with an outraged squawk. Then Johns 
 swung down alertly out of his tree, took a 
 plunge in the salt sparkle of the lagoon, and 
 set himself to his breakfast of plantains and 
 mangos teens. He was content to dispense 
 with the shell-fish for the present, promising 
 himself that he would tackle the problem of 
 making fire by friction after he had dealt 
 with the more pressing ones of weapons and 
 safe lodging. 
 
 After a deal of searching the drift-wood 
 down the beach, he found a strip of light 
 hand-rail attached to a support. In wrenching 
 it free, which proved a laborious task, 
 and bade fair to drown him in his own sweat, 
 he split the end of it to a sharp and jagged 
 point. He recognized the wood for a piece 
 of ash, hard-grained and not too brittle; 
 and he was satisfied that here was a fairly 
 effective javelin with which to stab down- 
 ward upon an enemy striving to climb to his 
 platform. But searching all the morning, 
 with a thatch of wet leaves on head and 
 shoulders, failed to show him a club so 
 
1 86 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 effective as the one which he already carried. 
 With its heavy iron spike projecting on one 
 side of the head to form a picking beak, it 
 had little fault but its lightness. He decided 
 that he would have to compensate for that 
 by putting the more muscle into his stroke. 
 
 Intent upon his search, Johns had for a 
 time forgotten the possible perils lurking 
 behind the green jungle wall along the top 
 of the beach. Suddenly a heavy, grunting 
 breath, close behind him, made him whip 
 about with a sensation of the hair rising on 
 his scalp. 
 
 Not more than a dozen paces away stood 
 an old bull buffalo, eyeing him malignly. 
 
 Johns recovered himself on the instant. 
 It was the mysteriousness of the sound that 
 had startled him. The moment he understood 
 it his nerves came back to hand. Knowing 
 himself quick on his feet, he felt certain that 
 he could dodge the brute's charge, and 
 escape him, if necessary, by plunging into 
 the lagoon. But he did not want to run 
 away, if he could avoid it. He stood his 
 ground, poised and ready, and met the 
 beast's stare calmly. 
 
 At first the bull seemed inclined to attack, 
 
KING OF BEASTS 187 
 
 as if resenting the man's mere presence. He 
 pawed the sand, angry but irresolute. He 
 snorted, and took a couple of steps nearer. 
 But the man's utter immobility, together 
 with his calm gaze, seemed to act upon the 
 great animal like a cooling douche. His 
 angry tail began to droop. He glanced 
 aside as if remembering an appointment. 
 And, finally, after a sullen rumbling in his 
 throat, he turned away and lumbered off 
 toward the stream. Once or twice he paused 
 and looked back defiantly, as if he half 
 expected the man to pursue him. But 
 Johns remained where he was, leaning on 
 his lance, till the buffalo had wallowed across 
 to the opposite bank. Then, muttering to 
 himself, "I'd better be getting another forty 
 winks, if I'm going to keep awake all night," 
 he betook himself to his tree, and w T ent up 
 into the branches as lightly and neatly as a 
 chimpanzee. 
 
 Having slept heavily through the midday 
 heat, Johns devoted the rest of the daylight 
 to strengthening his position. He lugged 
 up into the tree a number of suitable 
 fragments of wreckage, with a lot of long, 
 trailing fragments of a tough-fibred wild vine. 
 
1 88 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 Using the vine as lashing, he constructed a 
 fairly solid platform, with a raised edge to 
 keep him from falling off in his sleep. Here 
 he felt that he could be comfortable enough, 
 for a castaway, if the leopards would leave 
 him alone. If they wouldn't, he thought 
 that he could now manage to give them a 
 salutary lesson. 
 
 Just before sunset he brought a big bunch 
 of plantains up into the tree, with a bit 
 of dry spruce which he had found among 
 the wreckage, and half-a-dozen hard, sharp- 
 edged shells. He proposed to occupy his 
 enforced vigil with the business of scraping 
 a store of fine, fluffy fibre, to serve as tinder 
 when he should undertake to start a fire. 
 But he was not to enjoy any such quietly 
 domestic evening as he anticipated. He had 
 not yet sounded the capacities of the jungle. 
 
 From far back in the forest came a heavy 
 roar which sent a thrill of apprehension down 
 his spine. It was such an utterance as no 
 leopard was capable of. He knew at once 
 that only a lion or a tiger could so proclaim 
 himself. This was not the latitude or 
 longitude for lions. What could he do, 
 with his poor weapons, against a tiger? For 
 
KING OF BEASTS 189 
 
 a few minutes his heart went down to where 
 his boots would have been had he had any; 
 and he saw himself going hourly in trembling 
 watchfulness, ready on the instant to flee 
 into his tree-top like a frightened monkey. 
 Then, like a flood of warmth through all his 
 veins, came surging back his old faith in 
 man as the master animal. He himself, he 
 told himself, all solitary and naked and an 
 alien in the land, was nevertheless lord of 
 all these brutes, supreme so long as will and 
 courage failed him not. He had read how 
 naked savages, in several lost corners of 
 earth, were wont to hunt the tiger or the 
 jaguar, alone and with no weapon but a 
 sharpened stake. He would teach the tiger, 
 when the time came, to give way before him 
 even as the leopard and the buffalo had 
 done. In the dusk he sat scraping with a 
 shell at his jagged lance-tip, till the hard 
 point was almost needle fine. 
 
 After that roar there had been no more 
 sounds of visitors coming down through the 
 dusk to drink at the stream. The long 
 silence grew ominous, and the man found 
 himself straining his ears so intently that 
 he began to imagine sounds that did not 
 
190 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 exist. He thought he heard heavy, padded 
 footsteps under his tree, but peering down 
 he was able to see clearly that there was 
 nothing there. 
 
 At last the moon rose. It was no more 
 than half-way above the sea-line a red, 
 distorted, swollen segment of a disc when 
 some hundred yards away the tiger emerged 
 from the thickets, walking straight down 
 into the eye of it. It was evident that he 
 had some inkling of the man's presence, for 
 he sniffed with menacing inquiry and came 
 on straight toward the tree. 
 
 Johns was assured that tigers, in general, 
 were not given to tree-climbing. He also 
 knew that many wild beasts, at a pinch, 
 would defy the accepted dicta of natural 
 history. He was ready, however, to back 
 his own alertness among the branches 
 against that of any tiger. When the striped 
 and venomous-looking brute came under the 
 tree, and lifted dreadful eyes to his, he 
 cursed him scornfully and threw down a 
 stick of driftwood. 
 
 As luck would have it, the missile caught 
 the tiger fair across the muzzle. He snarled 
 with surprise and rage, drew back, crouched, 
 
KING OF "BEASTS 191 
 
 and launched himself in a magnificent 
 spring for the lowermost branch, where it 
 jutted out at right angles to the main trunk. 
 He made good his hold with his great 
 forepaws in the crotch, and hung there 
 for a second or two, clawing with his hinder- 
 paws at the trunk below, before he could 
 draw himself fully up. 
 
 This was just what Johns had hoped and 
 planned for; and he was ready, lying out- 
 stretched on his platform, spear in hand. 
 Jabbing downward sharply, but not too 
 heavily for fear of breaking his point 
 he struck the beast in the face twice, and 
 slashed him straight across one eye, quite 
 destroying it. The tiger roared with pain, 
 got one hind-paw up on to the branch, and 
 stretched his head far aside to avoid the 
 stabbing strokes at his face. This attitude 
 exposed his neck and throat. 
 
 And now, risking his point, the man 
 stabbed savagely. The point went true, 
 entering just behind the brute's jaw; and 
 with all the strength of both arms the 
 man drove his stroke home. The harsh- 
 edged ash tore its way clean through; and 
 with a choked screech the tiger, stiffening 
 
192 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 backwards convulsively, fell to the ground, 
 carrying the spear with him. For a time 
 he whirled himself around and around, 
 clawing and coughing, and blowing out great 
 clots of bloody froth. Then at last he sank 
 down, and lay still. 
 
 "Curse him, he's broken my spear!" 
 grumbled Johns, dissembling the exultation 
 which swelled his heart. Then, rightly 
 arguing that the presence of that dread 
 form beneath the tree would effectually 
 discourage other visitors, he settled himself 
 to sleep. 
 
 Next day Johns was in doubt, for a 
 time, what to do with the tiger's body. He 
 longed to skin it, that he might dry the 
 hide in the sun and keep it for a trophy and 
 a couch. But with no skinning knife except 
 a shell, he shrank from the task. Finally 
 he decided that the dead beast should 
 serve as an object-lesson, a notice to all the 
 wilderness marauders that the dweller in the 
 tree was not to be trifled with. He dragged 
 the body several hundred yards down the 
 wind, and left it on the beach, some yards 
 out from the jungle edge, where all eyes might 
 consider it carefully. He felt confident that 
 
KING OF BEASTS 193 
 
 word of the tiger-slayer would spread quickly 
 through the forest, and he would be no more 
 troubled. 
 
 In this conclusion Johns was doubtless 
 right, for among the wild kindreds no less 
 than among men is prestige a potent influence. 
 He had proved himself master of the monarch 
 of the jungle, therefore he himself was 
 monarch. Even the elephant, sagacious and 
 a respecter of jungle law, would have avoided 
 trespassing on the masterful tree-dweller's 
 range. But Johns's luck was following him, 
 and he was not to be put to the test of 
 exercising for long the sovereignty which he 
 had so swiftly established. 
 
 On the second day after the affair with 
 the tiger a Dutch trading schooner hove to 
 under the lee of the promontory, just outside 
 the reef, and sent a boat ashore for water, 
 the quality of Johns's stream being known 
 to certain craft in the island trade. A mile 
 or two further down the reef was a narrow 
 entrance feasible for a long-boat or a cutter, 
 and Johns soon found himself celebrating 
 his happy abdication, in trousers a thought 
 too broad in the beam for his build, and a 
 glass of pungent schnapps. His story for a 
 
194 KING OF BEASTS 
 
 moment taxed the faith of his sturdy rescuers 
 but an examination of the dead beast's 
 carcase, with the improvised spear through 
 its throat, proved convincing evidence; and 
 Johns was able to carry his prestige with 
 him to the polished decks of the schooner. 
 It was a light luggage, but one precious in 
 his eyes. 
 
In the World of the Ghost-lights 
 
 AT that tremendous depth, half a mile 
 straight down from the windy green- 
 and-purple and the cream-white racing foam 
 of the ocean surface, such a thing as the light 
 of day was never even guessed at. The 
 strange dwellers in those deeps could never 
 mount far toward the sunlit tides and live 
 to know about it; for in passing upward 
 from the terrific pressures under which they 
 had their existence, their framework would 
 be fatally distorted, or their stomachs would 
 turn inside out, or their eyes would bulge 
 from the sockets, or their frail tissues fall 
 apart. So they passed their lives with no 
 knowledge or suspicion of the sun, in a quiet 
 which the maddest hurricane could never 
 hope to jar. 
 
 Yet these deeps were not plunged in an 
 utter and eternal darkness. Here and there 
 a floating colony of tiny beings, infusoria, 
 
 195 
 
196 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 akin to those which illuminate the surface 
 seas at night, made a patch of nebulous 
 glimmer. Here and there a faint, elusive 
 pallor, fading every other moment to extinc- 
 tion and reviving as if softly breathed upon, 
 came from spreading groups of those curious 
 plant-like creatures known as sea-lilies. 
 And the broad undulations of the silt-strewn 
 ocean floor gave forth an attenuated phos- 
 phorescence which made them not utterly 
 invisible. For eyes sufficiently sensitive, 
 therefore, to grasp its feeble vibrations, there 
 was something approaching a spectral twilight, 
 at least in spots, over the deep-sea bed. 
 
 Besides this diffused glimmer, which 
 seemed ever ready to die of sheer faintness, 
 from time to time what seemed like a cluster 
 of glow-worms would flash softly into view 
 under some ledge or some cluster of lilies, to 
 be extinguished, usually, a moment later. 
 Very often a pair of tiny lamps, so to speak, 
 of bluish or violet flame would be waved 
 delicately to this side and that, as if the 
 unseen bearer were seeking something in the 
 mystic gloom. On every side pale wisps and 
 eyes of light would appear and dart and 
 vanish. And sometimes what looked like 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 197 
 
 the spectre of a fish, with two long streamers 
 of light trailing back from its nose, its fins 
 outlined in vaporous radiance and a double row 
 of softly-glowing spots down its sides, would 
 go darting across the obscurity. Perhaps it 
 would be followed by a larger shape, ghost- 
 pale, with an enormous head and long, 
 wavering body, and would plunge for refuge 
 in among the tough foot-stalks of the sea- 
 lilies. In one way or another, in one 
 phantasmal form or another, the ghost-lights 
 flickered everywhere throughout this sound- 
 less gloom. 
 
 In one spot, some two feet above what 
 looked like an immense flat stone, hung a 
 tiny tuft of violet flame. From the core of 
 tender light floated a sort of down, an 
 aureole of faintly luminous filaments. From 
 this soft radiance it could be made out that 
 the flame flower was hung from the tip of 
 a slender, reed-like support, which swayed 
 lightly from time to time, although there was 
 no disturbance in the surrounding water. 
 The supporting reed appeared to grow out of 
 one end of the flat rock, whose blackish hue 
 melted into the shadow undulations of the 
 surrounding silt. The beautiful little flame 
 
198 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 sometimes trembled, sometimes nodded on 
 its support, sometimes faded almost to 
 invisibility only to burst into a brighter 
 glow, and altogether conducted itself with a 
 caprice for which no cause or reason was 
 apparent. 
 
 Presently one of those ghost-like fish 
 forms, with the double row of glow-worm 
 points down its sides, and enormous whitish 
 eyes, caught sight of the trembling flame 
 and sailed up to investigate it. The visitor 
 was small not more than a foot in length 
 and therefore seemed to exercise a becoming 
 discretion. As he drew near, however, it 
 appeared to him that the little violet light 
 was something not only good to eat, but safe 
 to appropriate. He hurried, lest some other 
 hungry wayfarer should forestall him. 
 Except for his curious illuminations, he 
 looked quite like an ordinary fish of the 
 upper waters; but as he darted up to the 
 wisp of flame, he opened an amazing spread 
 of jaw. In fact, his mouth was cut back to 
 the very base of his long head. 
 
 The little flame, as if it had eyes of its 
 own, slipped aside and dipped fairly to the 
 floor, skilfully eluding the attack. And in 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 199 
 
 the same instant an amazing thing happened. 
 The flat black stone which had been 
 supporting the flame heaved upwards and 
 opened. The opening was a cavern, set 
 about with long teeth, all slanting inwards. 
 The darting ghost-fish was engulfed. The 
 cavern closed with a snap, and on either 
 side of where it had been, glimmered 
 lambently two pale, cold, death-like eyes. 
 Their phosphorescence lasted but for a second 
 or two. Then the black stone looked as 
 inanimately slab-like as before, the eyes 
 becoming mere dull excrescences; and the 
 little violet flame, slowly rising, once more 
 trembled and nodded invitingly above it. 
 
 Suddenly the flame went out, dead out. A 
 series of massive concussions had disturbed 
 the heavy water. All the other definite 
 lights in the neighbourhood the glow-worm 
 clusters, the gliding points and stars, the 
 sliding eyes and spectral streamers, and even 
 the pallid display of the imperturbable sea- 
 lilies extinguished themselves abruptly, and 
 there was nothing to be seen but the 
 nebulous patches of the infusoria and the 
 elusive glimmer of the ooze-beds. Some- 
 where in the obscurity, too far off to be 
 
200 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 visible, but near enough to make itself 
 startlingly felt, a battle of monsters was going 
 on. For all lesser beings of the underworld 
 it was a case of "Lights out and lie hid!" 
 Even that great stone slab of a creature, 
 though some seven or eight feet long and a 
 good two feet across at the place where the 
 cavernous mouth had opened, had no wish 
 to attract the notice of those fighters. He 
 kept his dainty violet lure safely concealed, 
 and was content to be the most unconsidered 
 of rock slabs that ever gathered silt on the 
 ocean bottom. 
 
 Presently the disturbance died away, and 
 once more the water lay in heavy stillness. 
 The first of the deep-sea dwellers to recover 
 confidence were the sea-lilies, which slowly 
 relit the glow in their pale lilac and pinkish 
 petals. The glow was an irresistible attraction 
 to all sorts of tiny living organisms, which 
 swam or floated towards it, to be captured 
 by the carnivorous, ever-hungry blooms. 
 Then other cautious beings began to let 
 their ghost-lights glimmer again as they 
 resumed their prowling, their swimming, or 
 their crawling fish, shrimps, star-fish, crabs, 
 monstrous sea-urchins, and huge black-purple 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 201 
 
 trepangs. And, last of all, that monstrous 
 lier-in-wait, the deep-sea angler, hung out 
 once more the lovely violet death-lamp above 
 the hidden cavern of his jaws. 
 
 These spectral deeps were not by any 
 means lonely at least, not in this particular 
 section of them. Mysterious, busy, almost 
 invisible life swarmed everywhere, hunting 
 and being hunted. But for a few moments 
 nothing more came near the fluttering lure. 
 The monster grew impatient. His appetite 
 was huge, and he lived only to satisfy it. 
 But as, with all his strength, he had no 
 speed for the pursuit and capture of his 
 prey, there was nothing for him to do but 
 wait, sinking ever deeper into the silt to 
 make his ambush the more secure. The 
 only sign of his impatience was an added 
 activity and persuasiveness in the noddings 
 and wavings of the little violet flame on its 
 slender tentacle. 
 
 And presently its activity was rewarded. 
 It caught the notice of a most grotesque- 
 looking, crab-like creature, with a small, 
 circular, rose-coloured body mounted on 
 immensely long, jointed, stilt-like stalks of 
 legs. Its jaws were almost as big as its 
 
202 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 body, and it waved from its head two slim, 
 whip-like antennae, or feelers, even more 
 ludicrously elongated than its legs. It may 
 have been by some delicate perception in 
 these feelers that it noticed the trembling 
 violet light; for where its eyes should have 
 been were merely two pin-points of black, a 
 mere rudimentary suggestion of what may 
 have been eyes in some remote shoal-water 
 ancestor. However that may be, the stork- 
 like crab certainly perceived the lure. He 
 came sidling towards it awkwardly but 
 swiftly, his great jaws working with eager- 
 ness. 
 
 But another prowler had also caught sight 
 of the enticing wisp of violet. An immense 
 scarlet shrimp, as big as a lobster, came 
 swimming at it backwards. He could see 
 well enough, having a pair of extravagantly 
 large eyes, each with a bright white bull's-eye 
 lamp glowing beside it. He saw not only 
 the lure, but the sidling approach of his 
 long-legged rival, and he shot down in 
 jealous haste. The two arrived together. 
 The little flame eluded their rush and sank. 
 They followed, clashing against each other, 
 and plunged into a black cavern which 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 203 
 
 opened and rose to meet them. The cavern 
 gave a sucking gulp and closed again with 
 a snap. For a second or two those veiled, 
 pale eyes on either side of it glowed faintly 
 green, and then were extinguished again. 
 And once more the little violet flame lifted 
 its lure above the silted slab. 
 
 The next passer-by to heed the flame was 
 so formidable-looking that one would have 
 thought the lier-in-wait would take alarm 
 and withdraw the lure. It was an immense 
 serpentine "oar-fish," a good eighteen feet 
 in length, with two long, slender fins, like a 
 pair of oars, spreading from the sides of its 
 head. Its body was extraordinarily slender 
 for its length, being little more than a foot 
 in diameter, and carried a back fin running 
 all the way from the tail to the top of the 
 head. At the top of the head this fin was 
 enlarged by several huge spines, perhaps two 
 feet long, which slanted forward imposingly 
 and threateningly over the owner's snout. 
 The body was silvery in hue, and carried a 
 uniform faint-green phosphorescence. 
 
 In a leisurely fashion the oar-fish swam 
 up toward the quivering violet lure. For- 
 midable as he looked, it awaited his approach. 
 
204 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 At last he lunged at it, opening a smallish 
 and not very dangerous mouth as he did so. 
 The lure, of course, vanished. The cavern 
 yawned beneath him, lurched upwards, and 
 closed upon his body just behind the gill 
 covers. 
 
 For a few moments the long tail lashed 
 the water desperately, till all the surrounding 
 lights were extinguished in terror. But the 
 captive, for all his length and strength, was 
 utterly helpless in the grip of those terrific 
 jaws and long, rending fangs. In a very 
 few seconds he was bitten clean in two, and 
 the head, with its protecting spines, rolled 
 to one side. The broad, ungainly figure of 
 the angler flopped clear of the silt and 
 snapped voraciously at the quivering body, 
 biting off two-foot lengths of it and gulping 
 them almost without effort. His stomach 
 swelled and swelled, but he kept cramming 
 the banquet down, till not more than three 
 or four feet of the tail end of the victim 
 remained. Then he settled back into his 
 lair, fanned his fins cleverly till his swollen 
 form was once more veiled in silt, and pro- 
 ceeded to digest his gigantic meal. Having 
 no more use for food at the moment, he 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 205 
 
 refrained from hanging out the violet lure. 
 
 As soon as the turmoil had subsided, and 
 the ghost-lights had begun to reappear, the 
 news went about in some strange way that a 
 feast was spread beside the big stone. In a 
 very few minutes the two remaining frag- 
 ments of the dead oar-fish the tail and the 
 armoured head were centres of voracious, 
 struggling life and of a strange confusion 
 of lights. Blood-red, deep-sea crayfish, 
 monstrous and distorted crabs, fish that 
 were all head and jaws, with long, whip-like 
 tails, fish that were all stomach and rending, 
 parrot-like beak, creatures that were eye- 
 less, but with long, groping antennae, and 
 creatures whose immense staring eyes were 
 out of all proportion to their bodies, tore 
 frantically at the two unresisting lumps of 
 flesh, or at each other if that seemed more 
 convenient. Their tinted lights crossed and 
 interwove, till each fragment of the victim 
 was a mass of writhing, pulsating glow. 
 
 As all these furious banqueters were of 
 more or less insignificant size the biggest 
 of the fish forms not being much more than 
 a foot in length there was, for a time, no 
 wholesale calamity among the feasters. But 
 
206 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 at last three curious-looking strangers came 
 sailing up to see what was going on. They 
 were black, short-bodied fish, about two feet 
 in length, with an ungainly, drooping pouch 
 to their bellies, heads almost half the length 
 of their bodies, and mouths cut back to the 
 gills. They swam up without haste, took in 
 the situation, and opened their mouths. 
 
 So wide were these amazing mouths of 
 theirs, that their own bodies might have 
 been easily pulled through them by the tails. 
 The creatures themselves became insignificant 
 beside those gaping traps. 
 
 The visitors began to feed, but with no 
 great haste. It was just a matter of scooping 
 in and gulping down violently the pre- 
 occupied victims. Once between those jaws, 
 there was only one way to go, for the jaws 
 were lined with long, sharp teeth, all pointing 
 inward to the capacious and slippery gullet. 
 Fish, shrimps, crabs, they were all scooped 
 in impartially and vehemently gulped down 
 into the huge, elastic stomachs, where they 
 writhed together in a packed mass till the 
 swift corrosion of the powerful digestive 
 juices stilled them. In a very few minutes 
 each of the three strangers carried beneath 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 207 
 
 him a stomach much larger than all the rest 
 of his organism put together. Then, heavily 
 and reluctantly, they sailed off to seek the 
 seclusion of some deep anemone thicket 
 where they might digest in peace. And the 
 scant remnants of the feasters went on with 
 their banquet as if nothing whatever had 
 happened to damp the revelry. 
 
 In the stomachs of these deep-sea dwellers, 
 digestion is a process which goes on with 
 appalling rapidity. After an hour or two of 
 quiescence, the swollen body of the gorged 
 lier-in-wait had subsided to something 
 almost approaching his normal flatness. 
 With this subsidence his appetite reawoke, 
 and suddenly there was the little, fluffy 
 violet flame once more nodding and quiver- 
 ing on the bent tip of its tentacle above the 
 silted slab. 
 
 This time it had not long to wait, for the 
 success of the late banquet had made this 
 once-neglected spot a popular corner of the 
 world. An incredibly monstrous and fan- 
 tastic shape came swimming slowly past. 
 With huge, blank eyes it took note of the 
 violet lure, and turned to investigate it. 
 
 The new arrival, obscurely visible in its 
 
208 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 own green-silvery illumination, was a sort of 
 double-decker in appearance. About five 
 feet in length, its head and the hinder third 
 of its body were not unlike those of an 
 immensely fat and large-mouthed eel. It 
 was, indeed, a peculiarly distorted member 
 of the eel family. Its distortion was a 
 matter of its stomach, which, distended till 
 its membranes were almost as transparent as 
 glass, hung longitudinally below its body 
 in something the shape of a dirigible balloon. 
 Into this amazing receptacle was neatly 
 packed, lengthwise, a stout blackish fish of 
 not less than two feet and a half in length, 
 together with a mass of little vermilion 
 shrimps. 
 
 Even with this enormous mawful, how- 
 ever, the fantastic creature had still a 
 lively appetite. Possibly he thought the 
 beautiful little violet light would serve as a 
 piquant digestive. He opened his jaws wide 
 and sailed up to take it in. Its glow was 
 almost tickling the tip of his lower jaw 
 before it whirled lightly aside and eluded 
 him. At the same time that pendulous 
 cylinder of his gorged stomach almost grazed 
 the rock below. The rock opened and 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 209 
 
 lazily, without effort, absorbed it, with all 
 its half-digested contents. The rock-like jaws 
 closed implacably, and with a convulsive 
 lashing of its tail, the swimmer, reduced now 
 to something like the normal proportions of 
 an eel, darted away, leaving a ghastly trail 
 of blood and phosphorescence behind it. 
 For several minutes it tore along in a blind 
 circle, heedless no less of enemies than of 
 victims for which it could have no further use. 
 Then, having no longer anything to live for, 
 it turned on its side and sank to the bot- 
 tom, to be seized upon, before its squirmings 
 were still, by a colony of fantastic little lemon- 
 yellow crabs without eyes. 
 
 The yellow crabs would have had a varied 
 and numerous assortment of uninvited guests 
 to their banquet within the next five 
 minutes, but that something now turned all 
 attention toward the upper waters. Directly 
 overhead a bulky glow appeared, enlarging 
 and brightening as it descended. As it 
 drew nearer, the pale-greenish glow was seen 
 to be shot with darting lights of white 
 and yellow, blue and lilac. Then it resolved 
 itself into a turning mass of furiously 
 struggling life. At last it settled slowly 
 
210 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 upon the colony of sea-lilies, and revealed 
 itself as the almost naked skeleton of a 
 whale, swarming inside and out with every 
 species of deep-sea scavenger. No wonder 
 the little lemon-yellow crabs were left to 
 finish their insignificant meal in peace. 
 
 The whale was one which had been 
 harpooned at the surface by the whale- 
 fishers, stripped of its blubber, and cast loose. 
 As the red carcase sank, first the hordes 
 of sharks had flung themselves upon it 
 ravenously, rending away the flesh in huge 
 triangular masses. When it reached a depth 
 where the sharks could no longer endure the 
 pressure, the gigantic framework was almost 
 bare. The sharks were succeeded, in ever- 
 increasing numbers, by the myriad voracious 
 inhabitants of the depths, of every family 
 and kind except the crawling echinoderms 
 and crustaceans, which could not travel far 
 from the bottom, and of every size, from 
 terrible pike-like creatures twelve and fifteen 
 feet long, whose fanged jaws might teach 
 prudence to the mightiest of the sharks, 
 down to little, black, purse-like fish not 
 bigger than one's hand, all jaws and stomach, 
 without fin-power to tear off the juicy 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 211 
 
 morsels into which they had sunk their 
 ravening teeth. During the slow, revolving 
 descent of the great structure growing ever 
 slower as the pressure increased the smaller 
 forms kept as far as possible on the inside of 
 the framework, more or less out of the way 
 of their larger and more voracious fellow- 
 banqueters. But whether outside or within 
 the skeleton, the feast was an incessant and 
 implacable warfare, the guests devouring 
 each other with a large and frank im- 
 partiality. 
 
 As soon as the skeleton with its seething 
 glow had settled upon the bed of sea-lilies, 
 then all the crawlers from a mile about cray- 
 fish and shrimps, crabs and stars, mostly 
 eyeless, but all armed with long antennae of 
 marvellous delicacy came thronging up for 
 their share. The giant carcase fairly boiled 
 with light and strife. In the course of an 
 hour the bones were picked so clean that 
 there was nothing left except for those tiny 
 creatures armed with drills in their heads, 
 which could bore into the solid bone and 
 suck its juices. Then little by little the 
 revellers dropped away, either gorged them- 
 selves or helping to gorge their bigger 
 
212 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 fellows; and the lights began to fade from 
 the great arching ribs and cavernous skull of 
 the skeleton. 
 
 During all this time the lier-in-wait, 
 whose place of ambush was perhaps fifty feet 
 distant from the bed of sea-lilies, had not 
 been faring altogether to his own satisfaction. 
 It was contrary to all his methods to emerge 
 from the silt and flop over to take a hand 
 in the great scramble. All he could do was 
 to hang out his wavering violet lamp and try 
 to tempt some of the discontented outsiders 
 from the feast. A few small fry were 
 caught in this way, but not more than 
 enough to excite him. In his excitement he 
 allowed his terrible veiled eyes to emit a 
 pallid glimmer, as they rolled about in the 
 search for likely prey, while the violet lure 
 fairly danced up and down in its desire to 
 please. 
 
 All at once, however, those glimmering 
 eyes detected something which made their 
 light fade in an instant and the violet flame 
 go out as if clapped under an extinguisher. 
 With a stealthy side movement, the lier-in- 
 wait sank himself deeper into the silt. He 
 had seen a long, sickly-white, twisting feeler 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 213 
 
 yards and yards of it sliding over the 
 ribs of the skeleton. It was followed by 
 several more, equally inquisitive. But the 
 lier-in-wait had not stopped to look at them. 
 He wanted as much silt over him as possible, 
 even over his eyes, as long as those 
 python-like feelers were investigating in that 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 It chanced that one of those colossal white 
 squid, or deep-sea devil-fish, which herded by 
 the hundred on a congenial slope some miles 
 away, had strayed beyond his customary 
 limits. He had probably been stirred up 
 and terrified and set to wandering by the 
 attack of some troop of sperm-whales. His 
 vast, all-embracing eyes had caught sight of 
 that luminous descent of the carcase, and 
 he had come to see what was going on. 
 His progress had been slow, because, unless 
 in case of special urgency, he travels by 
 dragging his unwieldy bulk along the 
 bottom, instead of swimming backwards, like 
 the little squid of the surface waters. 
 By the time he reached the scene, therefore, 
 there was nothing left of the feast to console 
 his raging appetite. 
 
 This white and sluggish wanderer was by 
 
2i 4 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 no means one of the largest of his awful 
 kind. Yet the sprawling sac of his body, 
 with the squat, parrot-beaked head, was 
 little under forty feet in length, while the 
 ten writhing tentacles, each as thick at the 
 base as a man's thigh, which sprouted in a 
 bunch from the head like leaf-stalks from 
 the crown of a carrot, added another twenty 
 feet. The tentacles, which were armed all 
 along their under-sides with powerful suction 
 discs, were as sensitive, especially toward the 
 tips, as a delicate finger ; and they were 
 all ceaselessly in motion, with a stealthy, 
 questing, writhing movement, like so many 
 pale and hungry snakes. But the most 
 thoroughly nightmareish feature about the 
 whole unspeakable monster was the eyes. 
 They were two vast concave lenses of inky 
 blackness, bulging, and so high that their 
 upper rims almost met at the top of the 
 head. Absolutely lidless, utterly immobile, 
 and of an unfathomable malignancy, they 
 looked as if nothing could be hidden from 
 their awful gaze. 
 
 All over the naked bones of the giant 
 skeleton those ghastly tentacles went groping, 
 picking off every tiny creature which still 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 215 
 
 clung there, and conveying the paltry spoil 
 down to the horrid, gnashing beak. A few 
 fish which had been imprudent enough to 
 linger about the scene were pounced upon 
 with a dreadful precision and swiftness; and 
 some crabs and crayfish which were trying 
 to hide among the crushed wrecks of the 
 sea-lilies found themselves snatched up and 
 thrust into the parrot beak. But such small 
 fry merely served as appetisers. In a rage, 
 the pale monster dragged himself completely 
 up on to the top of the skeleton, perched 
 there for a few moments, sprawling all over 
 it, and then let himself down clumsily on the 
 other side. His inescapable gaze had de- 
 tected something unusual in that neighbour- 
 ing rock-slab. Promptly two twisting feelers 
 travelled over to investigate. On the instant 
 they took hold, with a grip which bit deep 
 into the hider's leathery flesh. 
 
 The lier-in-wait, finding himself thus dis- 
 covered and hopeless of escape, instead of 
 collapsing in a panic, flew into a despairing 
 rage. He was of a grim and battling breed. 
 His eyes burst into green flames, and his 
 cavernous jaws snapped madly. The spread 
 of those jaws was not much under a couple 
 
216 THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 
 
 of feet. They caught a tentacle where it was 
 four or five inches thick, and, tough though 
 it was, shore it through without an effort. 
 But in the same moment four more tentacles 
 secured a hold upon his body such a hold 
 that, double and spring and snap as he might, 
 he was quite unable to inflict any further 
 punishment on his captor. Then, not swiftly 
 but inexorably, he was lifted from his lair 
 and dragged down into the squirming nest 
 of tentacles. Those vast, inky eyes glared at 
 him without expression. Then the parrot 
 beak opened wide, and the lier-in-wait, 
 crammed into It head first, was swallowed in 
 one long, strangling gulp. 
 
 Contented for the moment with this fairly 
 substantial meal, the white monster backed 
 his unprotected body up against and partly 
 into the skeleton of the whale. Then, 
 curling his tentacles carelessly in front of 
 him, he appeared to go to sleep with eyes 
 open. Upon the return of quiet, the glow- 
 worm clusters relit themselves, with the 
 crawling stars of rose or green, and all 
 the darting, interweaving, half-indistinguish- 
 able ghost-lights, trailing phosphorescence 
 through the heavy water. Only the beautiful, 
 
THE WORLD OF GHOST-LIGHTS 217 
 
 filmy, delicate flame of violet nodded and 
 coaxed no more above its anchoring slab 
 there in the deep, five hundred fathoms 
 down. 
 
The Moose that Knocked at the 
 Door 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WHEN the snow stopped, and the wind, 
 Carson's clearing was buried to the 
 tops of the fence stakes. The old one-storey 
 frame house with its long shed, and then 
 the low barn set at right angles to the shed 
 so as to form a letter L was buried nearly 
 to the tops of the windows. The roofs, swept 
 clean by the wind, showed black against the 
 surrounding whiteness. In spite of the fact 
 that the two days' storm was over and the 
 sun was once more shining, the sky was still 
 of a hazy pallor as if it held yet more snow 
 to let drop upon the burdened world; and 
 the sunlight had no sparkle. Along one side 
 of the clearing the snow was heaped in huge 
 drifts, and the fir trees towered above it in 
 black ranks, shaken clean; while along the 
 other side, under shelter of the forest, all the 
 
 218 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 219 
 
 trees were shrouded in white, their laden 
 branches drooping to the ground. 
 
 But however dead and desolate the world 
 outside, there was cheer within the house, 
 the main room, which was at once living- 
 room, hall and kitchen, was darkened to a 
 curious twilight by the drifts of snow that 
 veiled the window panes, but the effect was 
 merely to shut out the outer loneliness and 
 cold. A generous fire of seasoned birch and 
 maple roared in the big kitchen stove, from 
 whose wide-open "draft" a red glow spread 
 across the room, flashing on the polished tins 
 which hung along the opposite wall and gleam- 
 ing capriciously from the white dishes and 
 old blue china platters which lined the shelves 
 of the spacious dresser. 
 
 At one end of the long deal table places 
 were set for two, it being now neaily noon, 
 the dinner hour in the backwoods. At the 
 other end of the table Mrs. Carson a large, 
 bony woman with dark hair drawn back 
 uncompromisingly from a kindly but irascible 
 red face stood "kneading up" the tray of 
 dough for her week's baking. As soon as she 
 could get the bread into the oven it would be 
 time to dish up the dinner for herself and 
 
220 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 Amanda. The warm air of the kitchen was 
 savoury with a smell of corned-beef and turnips 
 from the black pot that stood simmering on 
 the back of the stove. 
 
 By the door Amanda was stamping vigor- 
 ously and brushing the snow from her blue 
 woollen skirt, using a somewhat frayed grey 
 goose wing for a whisk-broom. Her bright, 
 flower-like face was flushed with exercise, 
 and wilful wisps of light-yellow hair, escaped 
 from the thick, blue, home-knit hood which 
 she wore tied under her chin, curled down 
 across a pair of dancing blue eyes and a short, 
 straight, well-modelled nose which had a 
 tendency to go up in the air. It went up in 
 the air now, with a gesture of gay audacity, 
 as she tossed her small head to throw back 
 the teasing curls. Though panting from the 
 violence of her exertions she was laughing 
 as if she had enjoyed them. She had been 
 shovelling paths through the great drifts 
 from the house to the barn, from the barn 
 to the well, and back from the well to the 
 house a heavy task, but one which, in her 
 young enthusiasm and her joy at being home 
 again from her months of teaching in the 
 distant Settlement, she had made a game 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 221 
 
 of. The big wooden snow shovel, with lumps 
 of snow still adhering to its vide blade, lay 
 on the floor beside her where she had dropped 
 it as she came in. 
 
 " There !" she cried joyously. "That was 
 lots more fun than teaching 'leven times 
 'leven, mother. Those paths are great. I 
 guess they'll last till the next storm any- 
 way." 
 
 Mrs. Carson smiled without looking up as 
 she deftly portioned the dough into the 
 deep, black baking-pans. 
 
 "Well, child, pick up the shovel an' stand 
 it behind the woodbox where it belongs. 
 'Tain't changed ye none, livin' there in Brine 
 Settlement an' teachin' school. Want a little 
 nigger to run 'round after you an' pick up 
 things same as you used to?" 
 
 Amanda looked down at the shovel with a 
 whimsical air of surprise at its thoughtlessness 
 in being on the floor. She gave it a little 
 kick, then picked it up and dutifully depos- 
 ited it in its exact place behind the wood- 
 box. Turning to her mother with the hopeful 
 expression of one who has earned a reward 
 she cried: "There, Mumzie ! And now I 
 want my dinner. I'm starving." 
 
222 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 "It's been ready this ha'f hour," answered 
 the mother, slipping a pan of dough into the 
 oven. "You jest dish it up, child, an' I'll 
 be with you in ha'f a minute." 
 
 Amanda plucked off her hood, flung it at 
 a chair on the other side of the kitchen, made 
 a pretence of smoothing her hair by pushing 
 it up with the palms of her hands over both 
 temples, then seized a fork and interestedly 
 lifted the cover of the steaming pot. 
 
 Just at this moment there came a knock 
 at the door. So strange a knock it was that 
 Amanda dropped the pot cover, startled; 
 and Mrs. Carson, just about to slam the oven 
 door in her brisk way, paused and muttered 
 under her breath: "Lands! What's that?" 
 It was one unmistakable knock, heavy and 
 indefinite, but followed by a vague sound 
 as of scraping and fumbling. 
 
 Amanda, instinctively daring, took a couple 
 of steps toward the door. Then she stopped. 
 There was certainly something very "queer" 
 about such a demand for admittance. The 
 fumbling and scraping continued, punctuated 
 with several light taps which somehow 
 sounded unintentional. Then the heavy 
 wooden latch half lifted in its deep socket, 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 223 
 
 as if something which did not quite under- 
 stand how to work it was tugging at the latch- 
 string outside. The delicate hair at the nape 
 of the girl's white neck began to creep. 
 
 "'Mandy, don't you dare to go for to open 
 that door!" whispered her mother, stepping 
 nimbly around the stove to her side and 
 clutching her arm. 
 
 But under her play of childish wilfulness 
 the young girl's courage was high and cool. 
 
 "Nonsense, mother!" she replied in a 
 low voice. "It's probably some one nearly 
 dead with cold, too far gone to knock pro- 
 perly. We must open the door. It would 
 be wicked not to." But as she spoke she 
 ran into the bedroom and reappeared in- 
 stantly with a rifle in her hands. As she 
 went to the door she coolly opened the 
 breech to see that the cartridge was in place, 
 and she snapped it to with a loud click that 
 might serve, if necessary, for a warning to the 
 visitor. 
 
 Heedless of her mother's vehement com- 
 mands, Amanda reached out her left hand 
 to the latch, standing well back from the 
 door and holding the rifle in readiness to leap 
 in a flash to her shoulder. But before her 
 
224 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 fingers could touch the latch, in a terrifying 
 way it slowly lifted itself clear of the socket 
 and the heavy door swung open. Amanda's 
 first impulse was to hurl herself upon it and 
 strive to shut it against the mystery. But 
 before she could accomplish this she caught 
 sight of the visitor and stopped in amaze- 
 ment. A huge moose, with antlers spreading 
 far beyond each doorpost, stood before her 
 blocking the whole doorway, and hesitatingly 
 thrust in his great black muzzle. 
 
 "Shoot it! Shoot it!" cried Mrs. Carson. 
 "It's tryin' to git in at us! Shoot it, I tell 
 you!" 
 
 But Amanda, lowering the gun, broke into 
 half-hysterical laughter. The tension had 
 been brief but severe, and the relief was 
 infinite. She had not realized how des- 
 perately frightened she was. But she under- 
 stood animals, wild and tame, instinctively; 
 and she loved them all. She reached out 
 her hand and patted the great, appealing 
 muzzle. 
 
 "Shoot him, mother? Why, of course 
 not ! Don't talk of such a thing ! See how 
 he's trembling. Something has been chasing 
 him and he's come to us for protection. 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 225 
 
 What could it be to frighten a great big thing 
 like him?" 
 
 Mrs. Carson had recovered herself by this 
 time, but she was angry at having been so 
 badly frightened. 
 
 "If you hain't got sense enough to shoot 
 the critter, 'Mandy, then shoo him out an' 
 shut that door, quick. I'll not have him 
 gittin' in here an' tramplin' over things, I 
 tell you. The impidence of him ! Shut 
 that door this minute. You're lettin' all 
 the cold in." 
 
 Amanda laughed cheerfully. 
 
 "He can't get in, possibly, Mumzie ! See, 
 his antlers are wider than the door. I think 
 he must be a tame moose who has been petted 
 a lot, so that a house means friends and 
 safety for him. Well, you've come to the 
 right place, old fellow. I wish I knew what 
 it was had scared you so." 
 
 The great beast's flanks were heaving 
 violently and he still trembled; but it was 
 plain to Amanda that he now felt himself 
 to be with friends. Stretching out his ridi- 
 culously long, overhanging, semi-prehensile 
 upper lip he tried to get hold of a fold of the 
 girl's skirt. The mystery of the lifted latch 
 
226 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 was explained. He had been pulling at the 
 string with that inquisitive lip. 
 
 Amanda stopped speaking for a moment, 
 delightedly inspecting her protege. Her 
 mother, still excited, was just about to return 
 to the attack when Amanda forestalled her. 
 
 "Oh, look!" she exclaimed. "I told 
 you he was a tame moose, mother! He's 
 been driven in harness. Look where it has 
 chafed him on the shoulder. How perfectly 
 lovely ! I wonder if the poor dear would 
 eat some cornmeal ! " 
 
 Snatching a plate from the table she ran 
 to the meal-barrel and scooped up a double 
 handful of the coarse golden meal. Mrs. 
 Carson, half ready to be mollified by the 
 idea that the animal was really a tame one, 
 looked on doubtfully while Amanda thrust 
 the plate of meal under his muzzle. The 
 moose sniffed at it, then, not recognizing 
 the smell, blew an irresolute blast through 
 his nostrils. The meal flew all over the 
 floor and over the front of Amanda's dress. 
 Straightway the moose, appearing to make 
 up his mind that this was something good 
 to eat, sank on his fore-knees and began 
 greedily licking up the yellow particles. The 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 227 
 
 better to get at them he turned his head 
 sideways and succeeded in jamming a portion 
 of one great antler through the doorway. 
 
 But the sight of the spilt meal was too 
 much for the tidy soul of Mrs. Carson, whose 
 jarred nerves, moreover, took offence at the 
 gay laughter with which Amanda greeted 
 the animal's delinquency. Darting forward 
 with a cry of "Git out o' here, you dirty 
 beast!" she snatched up the wooden potato- 
 masher and, before Amanda could stop her, 
 aimed a furious blow at the offender's nose. 
 
 Accuracy of aim, however, was not one of 
 Mrs. Carson's strong points. And besides, 
 just at the crucial moment Amanda had 
 caught her arm. The blow fell, not on the 
 animal's nose but on one of the branchy 
 points of the intruding antlers. It was a 
 sturdy blow, as the good lady in her vexation 
 had meant it to be. But the result of it 
 was so out of all proportion to its intent that 
 she recoiled with a horified groan, dropping 
 the potato-masher while Amanda wailed piti- 
 fully: "Mother, mother, how could you?" 
 
 The moose, startled by Mrs. Carson's 
 assault, had lurched to his feet and with- 
 drawn his head with such violence that the 
 
228 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 antler was torn clear off. It fell at Mrs. 
 Carson's very toes, its raw butt, suffused 
 with tiny globules of blood, convicting her 
 amazed eyes of an atrocious piece of cruelty. 
 She wrung her hands and protested, half 
 crying: "Oh, 'Mandy, I didn't mean to! 
 How was I to know it would come off so 
 easy?" 
 
 The victim, however, seemed compara- 
 tively unperturbed by his astonishing injury. 
 After giving his head a vigorous shake, as if 
 perhaps a bee had stung him, he dismissed 
 the matter and once more thrust in his nose 
 toward Amanda as if begging her for caresses. 
 The loss of his antler he did not appear to 
 notice. Then Amanda remembered that this 
 was about the time when moose should shed 
 their antlers. Her horrified face relaxed. 
 She was on the point of bursting into wild 
 laughter. But she checked her mirth sternly, 
 thinking it advisable that her mother's peni- 
 tence should endure a little. 
 
 "Poor critter!" muttered Mrs. Carson, 
 picking up the shed antler and standing it 
 respectfully against the wall, and regarding 
 it as if she thought of trying to stick it on 
 again. "Seems to me he's mighty good- 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 229 
 
 natured not to git ugly over a thing like 
 that. Hadn't we better rub some mutton 
 taller on to it, 'Mandy?" 
 
 "I don't believe it's worth while, mother," 
 replied the girl. "You see, at this time of 
 year there'll be no flies to bother the sore 
 spot. I don't believe it hurts him so very 
 much after all; because, you know, he'd 
 have to lose his horns before spring anyway. 
 They always drop off sometime in the 
 winter; so it isn't as if it would never grow 
 out again." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed the woman in a tone 
 of immense relief. "I forgot about 'em 
 sheddin' their horns. But I reckon it must 
 'ave hurt all the same. Looks mighty red 
 an' sore. An' all I can say is I'd 'a' made 
 more fuss than he did if any one had 'a' 
 done that to me ! " 
 
 Amanda broke out into a peal of laughter 
 which made the moose draw back in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 "Well, well, child," said her mother testily, 
 "you know what I mean! Don't be so 
 smart. Git your old critter tied up in the 
 barn if you're goin' to, and don't keep dinner 
 waitin' all day." 
 
230 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 Amanda became thoughtful. "But I don't 
 quite know how we're going to get him 
 there," she answered. 
 
 "Why," said Mrs. Carson, "if he was a 
 horse you'd lead him. An' if he was a cow 
 you'd drive him. Now which is he? That's 
 for you to decide, being a school-teacher, an' 
 your business to know such things. But 
 do be quick about it afore we freeze stiff." 
 And she turned away resolutely to dish up 
 the dinner. 
 
 "Of course," said the girl with authority, 
 "he's much more of a cow than a horse. 
 But I think I'll try leading him, all the same. 
 He doesn't look as if he'd be easy to drive. 
 Please hand me that bit of clothes-line, 
 mother, there's a dear!" 
 
 Mrs. Carson complied, and then brought 
 the girl her hood and put it on her head im- 
 patiently. Amanda, with the skill of one 
 who has been brought up on a farm, knotted 
 the rope first about the animal's neck and 
 then around his muzzle, forming a halter 
 a process to which he submitted with a 
 patient air which showed that he was used 
 to it. Then she pushed his great forehead 
 vigorously with both hands, to make him 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 231 
 
 get out of the doorway. He obeyed at 
 once, backing carefully as if stepping between 
 shafts; and when she turned to lead him 
 down the deep, narrow path to the barn he 
 followed so close that his ponderous muzzle 
 was thrust over her shoulder. 
 
 They had almost reached the barn when 
 the moose lifted his head with a jerk and 
 gave an angry snort. Amanda, following 
 his eyes, peered away across the white, undu- 
 lating surface and caught sight of three shad- 
 owy grey shapes just slinking into the woods. 
 
 "Wolves!" she remarked to her follower. 
 "So that was what was hunting you, was 
 it? Well, you don't seem to be much afraid 
 of them now!" And she concluded that 
 the slinking beasts had been harassing and 
 trailing their great quarry without daring 
 to come within reach of his hoofs and antlers 
 until he should be too worn out to defend 
 himself. It was evident that they had no 
 taste now for following up the venture. 
 
 For a few seconds the moose glared fiercely 
 after his vanished foes, then followed his 
 conductor obediently into the barn. Old 
 Jerry, the sorrel horse whom Amanda had 
 ridden as a child, from his stall whinnied 
 
232 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 inquiringly at sight of the tall stranger; 
 and the two red and white cows snorted and 
 backed in their stanchions. But the moose 
 paid them no attention whatever. It was 
 plain that he felt quite at home in a barn 
 with cattle and horses. Amanda tied him 
 beside the haymow where he could help 
 himself; then, chafing her numbed fingers, 
 she raced back to the house, eager to get in 
 out of the stinging cold. Her mother was 
 already seated at the table awaiting her. 
 
 "Won't that splendid fellow be a great 
 Christmas present for Dad!" she cried joy- 
 ously, patting back her rebellious wisps of 
 hair and hastily rinsing her slim fingers 
 before she sat down. 
 
 "I'd like to know what good he'll be to 
 him!" said Mrs. Carson sceptically. "With 
 them legs o' his he'll walk right over all the 
 fences an' eat up everything he takes a shine 
 to. I never did see, 'Mandy, what you 
 could find so interestin' in all such outlandish 
 critters. Give me a good horse, or a cow 
 that don't jump, or even a dawg, says I." 
 
 "Well, mother, I like them too, you 
 know!" agreed Amanda happily, evading the 
 discussion. 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 233 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IT wanted but two days of Christmas, and 
 there was yet much to be done in making 
 ready for Christmas Eve, when, according to 
 his custom, John Carson would arrive home 
 hearty, ruddy and hungry after his long trip 
 in from the lumber camps on Black River. 
 Mrs. Carson and Amanda had a busy after- 
 noon making pies pumpkin, apple, mince 
 and frying in the great pot of sputtering 
 lard an endless array of fragrant, goldy-brown 
 doughnuts. The two women were little con- 
 cerned about the storm, which had drifted 
 full the narrow, backwoods roads. They 
 knew that it would be a storm indeed that 
 could hinder John Carson on his snowshoes 
 from getting home for Christmas. What 
 was forty miles of wilderness trail to him 
 even though the mercury should be hovering 
 around the twenty-below-zero? Unfailing as 
 the almanac he would come shouting over 
 the twilight fields, kick off his snowshoes at 
 the door and impatiently wipe the frost 
 from his bearded lips before catching wife 
 and daughter to his breast. Neither woman 
 was troubled by misgivings on this score. 
 
234 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 The event of the season would not fail 
 them. 
 
 Occupied as she was, Amanda had no time 
 to devote to the big stranger in the barn. 
 But when, toward sundown, she and her 
 mother went out to milk the cows and fodder 
 the stock for the night she found that he had 
 managed to knock off his remaining antler, 
 probably having felt the uneven weight an 
 annoyance. The change which this wrought 
 in his appearance met with Mrs. Carson's 
 hearty approval, for, as she remarked to 
 Amanda, it made him look "so much more 
 natural-like." She went up and stroked 
 him condescendingly; and as he, in return, 
 nibbled trustfully at her apron with his long, 
 sensitive muzzle, Amanda saw that his posi- 
 tion in the family was assured. She knew 
 that her mother, having once accepted him, 
 would love him as she did Old Jerry and the 
 red and white cows. 
 
 The following morning was one of blue, 
 unclouded sky and snapping cold. Amanda 
 had intended putting the moose in harness 
 to see if he were really broken to it. But 
 there was still too much to be done in the 
 house. The plum pudding was yet to be 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 235 
 
 prepared. Instead of the novel and exciting 
 pastime of harnessing a giant bull moose 
 she saw her duty sternly pointing her to the 
 task of stoning raisins. With a sigh she 
 obeyed; and she managed to get some 
 consolation from the raisins themselves, which 
 were sweet and plump, the very best that 
 Brine Settlement could supply. 
 
 The dish of raisins was a formidable one, 
 for John Carson had always an appetite and 
 liked his pudding rich. But before Amanda 
 was half-way through her task she was inter- 
 rupted and the raisins were forgotten. 
 
 There came a peremptory knock, which 
 was repeated before Mrs. Carson could get 
 to the door. The visitor proved to be a 
 good-looking young fellow, who kicked off his 
 snowshoes outside and pulled off his deep 
 fur cap ceremoniously as he entered. Mrs. 
 Carson hastened to bring him a chair; while 
 Amanda, whose hands were conspicuously 
 sticky, pushed back her hair with a rounded, 
 white forearm and flashed him a smile of 
 cordial welcome. The stranger was dressed 
 in the thick homespuns and cowhide "larri- 
 gans" of the lumberman, but at his throat, 
 as he threw open his heavy jacket, showed 
 
236 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 a collar obviously fresh and obviously linen, 
 with a neatly tied four-in-hand cravat. He 
 had a strong-featured though boyish face, 
 with dark, direct eyes and a close-trimmed 
 brown moustache, and from the accents of 
 his greeting Amanda decided at once that 
 though he might be from the lumber camps 
 he was certainly not of them. 
 
 "Won't you set up closer to the fire?" 
 suggested Mrs. Carson heartily. "It's a right 
 cold day out." 
 
 "No, thank you, not just yet. My fingers 
 are a bit numb !" replied the visitor, pulling 
 off his woollen mittens and chafing his hands 
 which, as Amanda noted, were strong and 
 well kept. "You are Mrs. Carson, aren't 
 you?" he continued. 
 
 "The same," said Mrs. Carson, while 
 Amanda, not to be quite left out, nodded 
 assent. 
 
 "My name's Ross Alec Ross. And I'm 
 just on my way in from Donovan's Camp on 
 Forks Brook. I happened to stop in at 
 Crimmins's and it was lucky I did. I 
 found Mrs. Crimmins desperately ill pneu- 
 monia or something of that sort, I should 
 think. And she's all alone. No one else in 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 237 
 
 the house but her little three-year-old boy 
 and her feeble old grandfather, who, as you 
 know, is almost as much of a care as the 
 child." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Amanda commiserat- 
 ingly, setting the bowl of raisins on the 
 table and going to wash her hands. The 
 young man's eyes followed her with quick 
 appreciation. 
 
 "My, but that's bad!" said Mrs. Carson 
 in a worried voice. "The old man's pretty 
 nigh stone blind an' deafer'n a post." 
 
 "I fixed things up the best way I could," 
 Ross continued, "and now I'm hurrying in 
 to the Settlement for the doctor. But you 
 know what that will mean. The best I can 
 hope to do won't get him back there before 
 to-morrow morning. It's dreadful to think 
 of what may happen in the meantime. I 
 thought I hoped there might be some one 
 here who could go over and stay with them 
 till I get back. But I see it is impossible. 
 No woman alone could get a team through 
 those fifteen miles of drifts that I have just 
 
 come over." 
 
 Mrs. Carson wrung her hands. 
 
 "Oh," she cried in keen distress, "to think 
 
238 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 o' poor Nancy Crimmins in sich trouble an' 
 us not able to lift a finger to help her ! Quick 
 there, 'Mandy, git Mr. Ross a cup o' hot tea. 
 No, Mr. Ross, you set right where you are/' 
 she continued with decision, seeing that the 
 young man had risen to go. "You spare 
 two minutes to wait for your tea an' you'll 
 go the faster an' the farther for it." 
 
 As it was yet a good twenty-five miles in 
 to Brine Settlement, Ross recognized the 
 wisdom of her advice and sank back into 
 his chair, rubbing the stiff muscles of his 
 calves. But he observed that Amanda was 
 not getting the tea. Instead of that she was 
 taking down a heavy, coonskin coat from the 
 yellow clothes-press by the bedroom door. 
 
 "What on airth are you doin', child?" 
 demanded her mother sharply, but with a 
 note of anxiety in her voice. 
 
 "I'm going over to take care of Mrs. Crim- 
 mins till the doctor comes," said the girl 
 quietly. 
 
 "But you ain't! You ain't goin' to stir 
 out of this house, 'Mandy Carson," decreed 
 her mother. 
 
 Now Amanda was nearly twenty-two years 
 old, and it was a matter of general knowledge 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 239 
 
 that her control of the rather turbulent 
 school at Brine Settlement was perfect. Her 
 usually wilful mouth was not wilful at all 
 now, but grave and firm. 
 
 "You know very well that I must go, 
 mother," she answered gently. "Do you 
 suppose I could stay here, with poor Mrs. 
 Crimmins maybe dying? Stay here safe 
 and comfortable stoning raisins?" she went 
 on, with a little break in her voice. "Please, 
 mother, get Mr. Ross his tea as quick as you 
 can and then come and help me get ready." 
 
 There was a finality in this quiet speech 
 that brought Mrs. Carson at once to terms. 
 She bustled off to get the tea, but at the 
 same time she became almost tearful in her 
 excitement. 
 
 "Oh, why won't you never listen to reason, 
 'Mandy?" she wailed. "You was always 
 that headstrong ! But you'll never git there. 
 You'll git stuck fast in the snow. An' 
 you'll be frozen stiff, you know you will. 
 An' oh ! what will your poor father say when 
 he gits home an' finds you gone ? Mr. Ross," 
 she cried, turning suddenly to the young man 
 who had been watching Amanda with the 
 keenest admiration, "you speak to her ! You 
 
240 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 tell her she can't do it, an' hadn't ought to 
 try. Maybe she'll listen to a man!" 
 
 Alec Ross got up from his seat. "Allow 
 me to say, Miss Carson, I'm afraid your 
 mother's right. I know just how you feel 
 about it; and if you'll allow me to say so I 
 think your pluck is splendid. But you could 
 never get a horse through those drifts all by 
 yourself. It's hard, but I guess you'll have 
 to give it up." 
 
 Amanda tossed her head defiantly. "That's 
 nonsense!" she declared. "Don't you sup- 
 pose I can go on snowshoes just as well as 
 you if I want to? What's fifteen miles?" 
 
 Ross hesitated. He did not want to alarm 
 the two women, living there alone in the 
 vast solitudes. But it was plainly necessary 
 to be frank. 
 
 "I've no doubt you could do it if you say 
 so," he replied. "But, strange as it may 
 seem, there are wolves around this winter. 
 For the last fifty years or so, as you know, 
 they've been unheard of in this part of the 
 country; but now they've come back." 
 
 He spoke with an air of having settled the 
 question. And Mrs. Carson beamed approval 
 as she set the cup of hot, strong tea before him. 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 241 
 
 But Amanda answered very quietly: "Yes, 
 I knew the wolves had come tack!" Both 
 Ross and Mrs. Carson stared at her in amaze- 
 ment. " You don't seem to concern yourself 
 much about them!" she continued. 
 
 Ross threw back his jacket with a boyish 
 gesture and displayed a pair of "thirty- 
 eights" in his belt. "I'm ready for them if 
 they should come along looking for trouble," 
 said he. 
 
 "Well," said Amanda, "I'm really and 
 truly not one bit worried about them either. 
 They're nothing but skulking curs, these 
 Eastern wolves. And I've got my Win- 
 chester, a repeater, which I know how to use. 
 I'm not thinking about wolves I saw three 
 of them yesterday slinking along the edge of 
 the clearing, and they 'put' when they saw 
 me. It was they that had been chasing my 
 moose, mother. Well, now I'm going to 
 hitch up my moose in the pung and see if his 
 long legs won't pull me through the drifts 
 for I know very well Old Jerry couldn't 
 do it. If the moose fails me, I'll turn him 
 loose and go on with my snowshoes. But 
 I do believe, mother, it was just for this that 
 the moose was sent to us." 
 
242 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 To Mrs. Carson's deeply religious and some- 
 what superstitious mind this last suggestion 
 carried such weight that forthwith, in spite 
 of the dreadful menace of the wolves, her 
 opposition vanished. It was "a sign," as 
 she would have called it. But Alec Ross 
 looked so amazed that it was necessary to 
 tell him the whole story while he drank his 
 tea. He was full of misgivings; but he 
 saw that it was useless to try to dissuade 
 the resolute girl. So assuming a confidence 
 which he was very far from feeling he cheer- 
 fully pledged himself to meet her next morning 
 at Crimmins's. Then, pulling his cap far 
 down over his ears, he slipped his feet into 
 the thongs of his snowshoes and went off 
 with the long, swinging stride of the practised 
 snowshoer. 
 
 "He ain't no lumberman," said Mrs. 
 Carson, eyeing him critically as he went, 
 "but I reckon he knows what he's about." 
 And Amanda, who was pulling on an extra 
 pair of thick woollen stockings, agreed with 
 her. 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 243 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AMANDA was quite right about the moose. 
 He had been thoroughly broken to harness. 
 It was evident that he had been taken as a 
 very young calf and brought up as a pet on 
 some far backwoods farm. He was docility 
 itself, and plainly loved to be handled. But 
 as he had not been trained to take the bit, 
 Amanda had to drive him with reins attached 
 to a halter. She found the reins of little 
 use, however, for the great beast responded 
 to the commands "Haw," "Gee," "Whoa," 
 "G'long," "Git-up," like a well-trained and 
 willing ox, but far more sensitively than 
 any ox had ever the wit to do. 
 
 Sitting low in the sturdy pung with a hot 
 brick at her feet, warmly clad, well bundled 
 in old-fashioned buffalo robes, her hands 
 double-mittened and her face shining rosy 
 from its encircling folds of a white woolen 
 scarf, Amanda found herself enjoying her 
 journey in spite of her anxieties and her sad 
 errand. She was exhilarated beyond words 
 by her easy control of this novel and imposing 
 steed. With his enormous, spreading hoofs, 
 which formed a species of snowshoe, partly 
 
244 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 bearing him up, with his vast strength of 
 shoulder and singular length of leg, the 
 moose took her through depths of drift where 
 a horse would have hopelessly foundered. 
 He forged ahead not fast but steadily, and 
 the pung, on its low runners and wide shoes, 
 rode fairly high in the snow. 
 
 Of the wolves she saw never a sign; and 
 so, without event, by the middle of the after- 
 noon she came to Crimmins's wide clearing. 
 
 She found the sick woman half delirious 
 with pain, fever and anxiety, the child whim- 
 pering with terror, the bent old man muttering 
 to himself as he gropingly fed the fire with 
 the abundant wood which Alec Ross had 
 stored behind the stove. The situation was 
 unspeakably pitiful, and Amanda thanked 
 Heaven that she had been resolute to come. 
 Her coming, indeed, seemed to work an in- 
 stant miracle, as the child's fears were soothed, 
 the sick woman's terrible anxiety relaxed, 
 and the old man felt once more free to doze 
 in his big chair. There was so much to be 
 done that for hours Amanda had no time to 
 think. Not until late that night, with the 
 child asleep in his trundle-bed, and the old 
 man vanished to his tiny cupboard room, 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 245 
 
 was she able to sit down and rest. Only 
 then did she begin to realize how exhausted 
 she was. * 
 
 She found an old magazine on a shelf in 
 the corner and turned over the pages. But 
 she could not read, with the sick woman's 
 painful breathing loud in her ears. She 
 found, though she did not realize it, that the 
 only thing that could divert her attention 
 from the sound was to think about the man 
 who had so unexpectedly launched her on 
 this errand. She pictured to herself his kind 
 and strong young face, his courtesy, his un- 
 selfishness, his helpfulness, the grace and 
 force of his figure as he swung off across the 
 snow from her mother's door. A pang seized 
 her as she thought of him, perhaps trailed by 
 wolves, perhaps in a running fight with them, 
 before he could reach the Settlement. But 
 this thought she threw off with scorn. The 
 slinking brutes would never dare actually to 
 attack him. Then she smiled to herself, a 
 smile of indulgent tenderness, as she recalled 
 the evidences which she had found of his 
 kindly but bungling efforts in the sick-room. 
 Yet he had not done so badly after all, for a 
 man, she thought. 
 
246 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 The clock began to strike for midnight. 
 In a few seconds it would be Christmas Eve. 
 She wondered if she would be home before 
 her father arrived. She hoped so, passion- 
 ately. She did not like to think of his big, 
 disappointed face if she were not there to 
 greet him of his desperate anxiety over her 
 rash expedition. At last she felt her eyelids 
 irresistibly drooping and she sprang to her 
 feet. She must not fall asleep. She went 
 over to the bed and found the patient less 
 restless, her breathing apparently eased by 
 the hot poultices of fiaxseed in which Amanda 
 had lavishly enveloped her chest. Amanda 
 did not know much about sickness, but she 
 knew enough to feel gratified when she found 
 that the patient's racing pulse had grown 
 less threadlike and uneven. 
 
 And now for hours the fight to keep awake. 
 It occupied all her attention. She had never 
 known that hours could be so interminable. 
 She dared not sit down for more than a 
 moment at a time. And often she thought 
 the clock must have stopped, so slowly 
 crawled the hands. But the night did pass, 
 and just on the bitter edge of dawn came the 
 sound of bells. The doctor and Ross had 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 247 
 
 arrived, bringing with them a nurse from the 
 Settlement. 
 
 Amanda heard the doctor pronounce that 
 her nursing and her flaxseed poultices had 
 probably saved the day that Mrs. Crimmins 
 would probably pull through. She caught 
 the look of immeasurable admiration in Alec 
 Ross's eyes. Then, curling herself up happily 
 like a child in the old man's big chair, she 
 went fast asleep. 
 
 After the long strain which she had been 
 under it was midday and past before Amanda 
 was fit to set out for home. Alec Ross, whose 
 muscles seemed to be of steel, was about 
 returning to the Settlement, and Amanda, 
 with a trepidation which made her angry at 
 herself, offered him a seat in the pung. He 
 accepted eagerly but with a quizzical proviso 
 that she should not ask him to drive. 
 
 "I've no great idea of myself as a Hagen- 
 beck!" he apologized. 
 
 "Don't think for a moment I'd let you 
 drive this dear beast!" retorted Amanda 
 with decision. "He seems to know just 
 what I want him to do. I don't believe he'd 
 be quite pleased to have any one drive him 
 but me." 
 
248 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 "He is a beast of sense. I entirely agree 
 with him," said the young man as he tucked 
 the wraps carefully about her before taking 
 his seat. 
 
 Amanda's small nose went up in the air 
 with a mixture of doubt and defiance. She 
 was not quite sure whether he was quizzing 
 her or not. Perhaps, even, he was making 
 fun of her moose which would have been 
 unforgivably stupid of him. She was an- 
 noyed and disappointed. But as her atten- 
 tion was occupied with the start he never 
 noticed her ill humour. He began to talk, 
 gaily and interestingly. And he was so 
 obviously, boyishly happy over the situation 
 that Amanda felt speedily convicted of in- 
 justice and set herself to make up to him for 
 the wrong of which he was so unaware. In 
 such a mood, with her beauty, her sparkle, 
 her childlike confidence and frank audacities, 
 she was dangerously intoxicating; and Alec 
 Ross felt her going rapidly to his head. The 
 better to keep a grip on himself he became 
 grave and quiet. But as Amanda saw from 
 a side glance at his face that he was in no 
 way discontented, his quietness by no means 
 damped her spirits. She told herself, with 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 249 
 
 conviction, that she was "having a lovely 
 time." 
 
 The moose, meanwhile, went faithfully. 
 But it was slow travelling through the depths 
 of broken drift. The early winter dark 
 closed down before they had covered much 
 more than half the journey. This was of no 
 consequence, however, for the sky was full of 
 stars so sharply clear that they almost seemed 
 to snap, and the snow spread everywhere a 
 wide, spectral glimmer. With the falling of 
 the dark Amanda fell silent and seemed to 
 give all her attention to the driving. But 
 she was content. As was fitting, nay, essen- 
 tial in such cold, she was allowing herself to 
 sit quite close to her companion, whose silence, 
 somehow, did not seem uncompanionable. 
 
 About an hour after dark they came, still 
 silent, to the lonely fork of the roads where, 
 through a stretch of burnt lands, a confusion 
 of tumbled and shrouded trunks, the trail 
 from the Black River Camp joined the main 
 road. 
 
 "This is the road father comes by," said 
 Amanda. "I do hope we're ahead of him, so 
 he won't be worried. He doesn't generally 
 come so early as this." 
 
250 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 "No," said Alec Ross, "he hasn't gone by 
 yet. No sign of snowshoe tracks along here 
 except mine of yesterday. You'll be in lots 
 of time the way this excellent menagerie of 
 yours travels. But, no ! By George, I'm 
 wrong ! There is another track over by 
 mine, on your right." 
 
 "Oh, let's hurry!" cried the girl. "We 
 must hurry and try and overtake him. Get 
 up, there, Moose. There's a dear!" 
 
 "But it may not be your father's track 
 after all," objected Ross. 
 
 "Of course it is! Who else could it be 
 from that direction ? " retorted Amanda 
 impatiently. 
 
 "You know," Ross reminded her, "the 
 trail from Johnson's runs into the Black 
 River road about a mile back." 
 
 "But I just know it's his," began Amanda, 
 "because " 
 
 She stopped short as a shrill sound, half 
 bark, half howl, came from up the Black 
 River trail. It was answered instantly by 
 another in a slightly lower key. 
 
 The moose gave a leap forward, then 
 stopped abruptly with a snort. 
 
 "It's your friends, the wolves, and not far 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 251 
 
 off/ 7 said Alec Ross. He spoke lightly. But 
 at the same time he slipped his right hand in 
 under his coat till it found the grip of his Colts. 
 
 Amanda's face was drawn with distress and 
 indecision. She was in a fever to hurry for- 
 ward, to overtake her father before he should 
 reach home. But there was something in 
 those sounds which stirred terrible imaginings 
 within her. She could not bear to go on. 
 The thin, hair-raising cries were repeated. 
 
 "It sounds to me as if they were at some- 
 thing," she suggested.. "What if they had 
 some one up a tree?" 
 
 The picture made by her own suggestion 
 burned itself into her mind with awful clear- 
 ness. 
 
 "Perhaps they have something up a tree," 
 agreed Ross. "A grumbling old porcupine, 
 most likely. Much good may it do them!" 
 
 "I don't know anything about wolves 
 except what I've read; but I don't believe 
 they're such fools as that," said the girl. 
 And coming to a sudden decision she started 
 to turn the moose. "Won't you please get 
 out and lift the pung around so we won't 
 upset?" 
 
 "By George, but you've got the pluck!" 
 
2J2 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 exclaimed the young man, obeying with alacrity. 
 "But will your beast stand for it?" 
 
 The beast evidently had no objection, but 
 rather, having unlimited faith in his human 
 protectors, seemed ambitious to get to close 
 quarters with the foe. 
 
 As the pung started up the Black River 
 road Amanda said deprecatingly : "I expect 
 I'm an awful fool ! But you know it might 
 be some man ! And I just couldn't go 
 home and be happy if I didn't make sure, 
 could I? Could you?" 
 
 "I think you are" he hesitated, while 
 ardent words crowded to his lips, and finally 
 said, "all right." 
 
 It was tame enough, but the tone in which 
 he said it made it seem to Amanda a lyric 
 eulogy. In a sort of exaltation she urged 
 the moose forward. For all the thought she 
 had of danger to herself she might have been 
 going to a poultry show. 
 
 Just at that moment the wolves gave cry 
 again, several voices commingling and with 
 an unmistakable note of excitement. 
 
 "They have got something there, sure 
 enough!" exclaimed Ross. "And they're close 
 ahead just around that bend." 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 253 
 
 The words were hardly out of his mouth 
 when across the clamour of the wolves came 
 a shout a man's voice, dauntless and authori- 
 tative. 
 
 Amanda's heart stood still. "My God!" 
 she gasped. "It's father!" 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE fact that for the last half dozen miles his 
 steps had been dogged by five wolves did not 
 greatly trouble John Carson. It made him 
 angry, however, and he wished they would 
 get up courage enough to come within reach 
 of his axe. At last he fell to thinking how 
 awkward it might be if anything should hap- 
 pen. And then, just as he was thinking of 
 it, happen it did. The shivered top of a 
 stump, hidden by a film of snow, caught his 
 snowshoe in such a way as to trip him in the 
 full swing of his stride and hurl him headlong 
 to the bottom of a little gulch. As he fell 
 he heard the snap of a breaking snowshoe 
 frame. 
 
 The flesh of his nape crawled, expecting 
 the crunch of teeth. He was up again in- 
 stantly out of the smother, facing the enemy 
 
254 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 and dashing the snow from his eyes. But as 
 instantly he sank back, his right leg giving 
 way beneath him. 
 
 The wolves had darted forward, but had 
 not quite screwed up their courage to attack 
 him. Three of them stood, with bared fangs, 
 glaring down upon him, green-eyed. A light- 
 ning sweep of the axe-blade convinced them 
 that the man was still too dangerous to meddle 
 with, and they shrank back. They knew 
 they could afford to wait. But they did not 
 like waiting. Two or three of them sat back 
 rather disconsolately on their haunches and 
 gave utterance to impatient cries perhaps 
 trying to summon others of their tribe who 
 would enable them to overwhelm their quarry 
 at once. 
 
 A hideous fear went through John Carson's 
 mind that he had broken his leg that at 
 last, spent with pain and deadened with the 
 creeping frost, he would no longer be able to 
 fight off the cowardly pack. With his heart 
 thumping in his throat he felt searchingly at 
 the place of his hurt. Soon he satisfied him- 
 self that there were no bones broken. But 
 it was plain that he had wrenched loose one 
 of the great tendons of the leg. How long, 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 255 
 
 he wondered, would it take him to struggle 
 home, dragging the helpless limb yard by 
 yard, hour by hour through the drifts and 
 fighting off the wolves, who would grow 
 bolder when they came to realize his plight? 
 He set his jaw doggedly for the battle, freed 
 his feet from the now useless snowshoes and 
 raised himself erect on one leg, using the 
 unbroken snowshoe as a crutch. Could he 
 win through? Well, he would make a great 
 fight for it. 
 
 As he stood there, his sinews stretching 
 with heroic wrath, a sudden jangle of sleigh- 
 bells came to his ears. He shouted fiercely. 
 A woman's voice as well as a man's answered 
 him. To his astonishment the woman's voice 
 was Amanda's. But his surprise turned to utter 
 bewilderment when, a minute later, around 
 the turn of the road came into view a gigantic 
 moose, ploughing triumphantly through the 
 snow and drawing a loaded pung behind 
 him. The wolves drew back uneasily at this 
 strange apparition. From the pung a shot 
 rang out, and then another, and one of the 
 wolves dropped, kicking voicelessly. The 
 others wheeled and fled for cover, stretching 
 out belly to snow in the frantic haste of their 
 
256 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 flight. The next minute the strange equipage 
 came to a stand close before him, the moose 
 snorting and shaking his head as if taking 
 all the credit of the victory. 
 
 "Father! father!" cried Amanda in a 
 voice that shook on the edge of hysterical 
 tears, as she leaped from the pung and strug- 
 gled to his side, "what what's the matter ?" 
 
 John Carson's big-chested laugh reassured 
 her. 
 
 "It's jest a little h'ist, an' a game leg 
 thereby," said he. "But ye've happened 
 along mighty handy, Sis, you an' your circus. 
 Them brutes had their own notions about 
 doctorin' me, an' as we couldn't agree there 
 was goin' to be trouble." 
 
 "Oh, dad!" murmured Amanda. And 
 then, overwhelmed by the thought of what 
 would have happened if she had gone straight 
 on, instead of turning up the Black River 
 road, she sat down in the snow and began to 
 cry. 
 
 "There! there! Don't be scared, Honey!" 
 pleaded her father anxiously. "It's all over. 
 They're all gone. An' everything's all 
 right." 
 
 "I don't think Miss Carson's scared," said 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 257 
 
 Alec Ross dryly. "She's the bravest woman 
 in the world. But she's a bit overstrained. 
 Come, Miss Carson, if you'll turn your beast 
 around we'll help your father into the pung 
 and get him home as quickly as possible." 
 
 The drive home did not seem long to either 
 Alec Ross or Amanda; nor, for all his suffer- 
 ing, did big John Carson let it appear that it 
 seemed long to him. If his face went white 
 from time to time at the torturing lunges of 
 the pung among the drifts it could not be 
 seen, and his strong voice maintained its 
 cheer. He had much to ask about, much to 
 be told, in order to understand the happy 
 miracle of Amanda's appearance so in the 
 nick of time. When the sound of their bells 
 and voices summoned Mrs. Carson to the 
 door, and in the streaming light she saw her 
 husband being almost lifted from the pung 
 between Amanda and young Ross, she darted 
 out into the snow with a scream. But her 
 terror was forgotten in thankfulness and joy 
 when she heard the story of his rescue. 
 
 After supper, when Alec Ross rose to get 
 ready for the long tramp into Brine Settle- 
 ment, there was vehement protest from both 
 John Carson and his wife. 
 
258 THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 
 
 "You don't quit my house this night, lad," 
 thundered Carson. 
 
 "The idee!" snapped Mrs. Carson with 
 cordial heat. "After all you've been through 
 these last two days ! If you must git into 
 the Settlement, why it'll be time enough to 
 start to-morrow mornin', surely!" 
 
 "You would be perfectly crazy to start 
 to-night," said Amanda. 
 
 "An' why not stop over with us for Christ- 
 mas, anyways?" urged John Carson, who 
 could not imagine any place more attractive 
 than this backwoods home of his from which 
 he had to be so much away. "We'll take 
 good care of ye here, an' give ye lots of plum 
 puddin' an' doughnuts won't we, mother ? 
 Take my advice, young man, an' stay right 
 where ye are ! " 
 
 "But, dad," protested Amanda, "you 
 forget that Mr. Ross may have friends of 
 his own in at the Settlement, so he may not 
 be able to spare us so much of his time." 
 
 "If you hain't got any special, particular 
 reason for hurryin' off to-morrow you'd better 
 stay over!" said Mrs. Carson. "We sure 
 want you." 
 
 Alec Ross hesitated, boyishly in doubt as 
 
THE MOOSE THAT KNOCKED 259 
 
 to whether he might allow himself to accept 
 the tempting invitation. His eyes sought 
 Amanda's, but she would not meet them. 
 
 "It was just 'for Christmas' I was going 
 in," he answered. Then, rather hurriedly: 
 "I have no reasons half as great for wanting 
 to go to the Settlement as I have for wanting 
 to stay here." 
 
 "Then please stay!" said Amanda, getting 
 up quickly from her place by the lamp to 
 hide the flush which she felt mounting to her 
 cheeks. 
 
Puck o' the Dusk 
 
 Bat, bat, come under my hat, 
 
 And I will give you a slice of bacon. 
 
 SO sings Mother Goose, with that airy 
 irrelevancy, that unblushing disregard 
 of probability, which make her so fascinating 
 a companion to the wise, but so dangerous, so 
 misleading a guide to the ardent young mind 
 in search of facts. There is nothing in the 
 context to show why the lady, unlike all other 
 ladies who have ever lived, should invite the 
 bat to come under her hat, or even be able to 
 contemplate without shrieks the possibility 
 of a bat coming under her hat. It may be 
 but another instance of that wilfulness, that 
 indifference to convention, which she displays 
 in almost all her poems. Or it may be that she 
 wanted to show how much braver she was 
 than all other women. In either case, we may 
 be sure that she never intended the bat to 
 accept her invitation. The inducement which 
 
 260 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 261 
 
 she offered was one which no bat in the world 
 would give a " tinker's damn" for. And 
 being, for all her eccentricities, a lady of wide 
 and varied knowledge, she doubtless knew that 
 about the last place in the world where any 
 bat would go was under a hat any hat, no 
 matter how enchanting the face beneath it. 
 Perhaps, after all, she was merely poking a little 
 sly fun at her sisters of the Universal Feminine 
 for their frantic delusion that a bat would like 
 to get into their hair. Mother Goose knew 
 very well that nothing but superior force, un- 
 scrupulously employed, would make a bat en- 
 tangle himself in any woman's hair, however 
 bewildering. 
 
 It was not of hats, or of hair, indeed, that 
 Puck o' the Dusk was thinking, as he zigzagged 
 through the purple twilight under the thick- 
 leaved, overhanging boughs. Gnats, for the 
 moment, were all his thought. The long, still 
 hours of the golden summer day he had 
 slept away very pleasantly, hanging from 
 the edge of a warped board far up in the 
 shadowy peak of the old barn in the meadow. 
 Other brown bats had hung there beside him, 
 suspended, like him, by their long, hooked 
 nails, and demurely sheathed, like him, in the 
 
262 PUCK O' THE DUSK 
 
 silken dusky membrane of their folded wings. 
 It was a popular dormitory for the bats, up 
 there in the dim peak, for the edge of that 
 warped board gave a convenient place where- 
 on to attach themselves; and, consequently, 
 there had been some crowding. From time 
 to time one or another, finding himself 
 squeezed, would wake up and squeak and prod 
 his neighbour with the bony elbow of his wing, 
 and chatter protestingly in a tiny voice 
 very tiny, but thinly harsh and vibrant, like 
 the winding of a dollar watch. Puck himself, 
 who chanced to hang on the very end of the 
 row, next to the wide crack in the gable which 
 gave exit to the outer air, had more than once 
 been almost crowded from his perch, so that 
 he had had to do rather more than his share 
 of waking up, elbowing, and watch-winding. 
 Once or twice, too, in this unwonted wakeful- 
 ness, he had been annoyed by the sight of a 
 large rat, prowling along a big beam far beneath 
 him and glaring up at him with cruel, beady 
 eyes. He loathed rats, but, knowing himself 
 securely out of this one's reach, he had not 
 been alarmed. He had folded himself up in 
 his wings and gone to sleep again, even while 
 the enemy was looking at him. So, on the 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 263 
 
 whole, the day had gone by pleasantly enough. 
 As the afternoon drew on, he had roused himself 
 several times to scramble flutteringly over to 
 the crack in the gable and take a glance out 
 at the weather, till at last, when the sun had 
 fairly sunk behind the low hills on the other 
 side of the stream, he had sidled through the 
 crack and launched himself upon the gold-and- 
 violet dusk. Within ten minutes he had been 
 followed by all the other occupants of the dor- 
 mitory, and the peak of the old barn was left 
 empty. 
 
 He was a strange-looking creature, the little 
 brown bat a mixture of bird and mouse and 
 goblin, droll, yet sinister an impish Puck who 
 drowsed away the hours of sun, and awoke at 
 dusk to whimsical and eccentric activities. 
 His insignificant body, covered with a short 
 brown fur of exquisite fineness, was hung 
 between two immense wings of sooty-dark 
 membrane. This membrane, more elastic 
 than the finest rubber, was stretched, like 
 silk over an umbrella frame, upon the enor- 
 mously developed arm and finger-bones of the 
 fore-limbs. The two wings were joined to- 
 gether at the tail, and connected with the frail 
 hind-legs as far down as the knees, which 
 
264 PUCK O J THE DUSK 
 
 seemed to bend in the wrong direction. Be- 
 tween the powerful shoulder-blades was set a 
 curious little shapeless head, with a pug of a 
 nose, whimsically wide and crooked mouth, 
 big flat ears, and tiny, beadlike, impishly- 
 glittering black eyes. 
 
 Awkward and grotesque as he was when 
 swinging from his perch or scrambling up the 
 boarding, the moment he launched himself 
 upon the twilight air, Puck o' the Dusk pre- 
 sented a masterly, though still fantastic, figure. 
 With a combined spread and flexibility of 
 wing such as, weight for weight, no bird could 
 match, his evolutions in the air were of a 
 miraculous alertness. Flying at top speed in a 
 straight line, he could drop instantly like a 
 stone, or dart upwards at apparently right 
 angles to his course, as if shot from a catapult. 
 A dizzying and bewildering zigzag seemed to 
 be his natural flight, and he could dodge in a 
 fashion that would put even the sparrowhawk 
 to shame. And this, indeed, was well. For 
 the darting, dancing gnats and other swift 
 insects were Puck's prey, and the pouncing 
 owls his peculiar enemy. 
 
 To-night, as he swung along the scented 
 trees by the water, the windless air was full 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 265 
 
 of insects gnats, early night-moths, and the 
 first blundering cockchafers. Being hungry, 
 he hawked ravenously at everything he saw. 
 But as the dusk gathered, and the edge passed 
 off his appetite, he grew more fastidious. He 
 would let many dainties, easily to be had, slip 
 from his very lips, and amuse himself by 
 flickering off in quest of the more nearly un- 
 attainable. Once, catching sight of a highfly- 
 ing moth far above the tree-tops, silhouetted, 
 to his keen vision, against the pale violet sky, 
 he shot upward swift as thought, snatched 
 the prize from the very beak of a swooping 
 night-jar, and was gone before the disap- 
 pointed bird could realize who had forestalled 
 her. Again, dropping headlong, he snapped 
 a cockchafer off a bending grass-head, just as it 
 was spreading its wings to fly, to the furious 
 indignation of a shrew which had been stalk- 
 ing the insect, and was on the very point of 
 springing up at it. It is probable that Puck's 
 eyes, to which the twilight was clear as crystal, 
 had marked the prowling shrew in the grass, 
 and that he took a whimsical delight in snatch- 
 ing the prize. Even the darting swifts 
 were sometimes befooled in this way, as 
 an elusive shadow would flicker past them 
 
266 PUCK O' THE DUSK 
 
 and the all-but-captured moth mysteriously 
 vanish. 
 
 Soon, as the violet light paled from the sky, 
 Puck o' the Dusk deserted his meadow and 
 flew downstream, over field and hedge, to a 
 spacious garden, with lawns and flower-beds, 
 and a wide-verandahed house set in deep trees. 
 Here the bland summer night was drawing 
 forth an intoxication of perfume from the dew- 
 wet roses and stocks, the Japan lilies, and 
 the spicy-breathed carnations; and hither, en- 
 ticed by the honey scents, the insects of the 
 night came in swarms. Up and down the wide 
 path at the foot of the garden, under the trees 
 by the water-side, a man and a girl were walk- 
 ing, the girPs white dress glimmering softly 
 in the shadows. 
 
 In this pleasant spot Puck was joined by 
 another little brown bat, a female, perhaps his 
 mate, assuredly his playmate. He has not 
 yet revealed enough of his intimacies and 
 domestic habits to enable one to speak confi- 
 dently on this point. For a little while the 
 two seemed to weave leisurely dances in the 
 air, circling around and over and beneath each 
 other, and from time to time swinging apart 
 on long, dizzying tangents, to meet again un- 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 267 
 
 erringly at some aerial point of rendezvous. 
 The female flew less lightly, less erratically, 
 than Puck himself; and if one could have 
 observed her at close quarters in a good light, 
 one would have seen that, however playful, she 
 was a most faithful and devoted little mother, 
 carrying her two babies with her through all her 
 frivolling. The little ones managed, in some 
 strange way, to cling about her neck, so se- 
 curely that not her swiftest whirlings, her most 
 breathless swooping swings, ran any risk of 
 dislodging them. But it must have been a 
 lively experience for the infants, who were yet 
 too young to be left at home in the barn, 
 where a prowling mouse might find them. 
 
 In the midst of their play, from somewhere 
 out of space, a wide-winged, noiseless shape 
 swept down upon them. Two enormous eyes, 
 perfectly round, fixed, and palely luminous, 
 glared at them, and huge claws, clutching 
 hideously, snatched at them, this way and 
 that, in dreadful silence. Both Puck and the 
 little mother succeeded in escaping the grasp- 
 ing claws, so lightning swift was their evasion, 
 as if, indeed, they had been blown aside like 
 leaves by the owl's attack. Instantly they 
 vanished deep among the branches, and the dis- 
 
268 PUCK O' THE DUSK 
 
 appointed owl winnowed onward to seek some 
 quarry less elusive. In a moment or two the 
 bats fluttered forth again. But, though un- 
 daunted, they felt the need of caution while 
 the enemy was still in the neighbourhood. So 
 they betook themselves for their play to the 
 lower end of the garden, where the man and 
 the girl were walking, and began circling and 
 dancing about their preoccupied heads. They 
 considered human beings harmless, and quite 
 useful to keep away owls. 
 
 Suddenly, to Puck's amazement, the girl 
 gave a tiny shriek, and hurriedly twisted her 
 light silken scarf about her fair head till she 
 looked like a Pitti Madonna. 
 
 "Oh," she cried nervously, "there's another 
 of those dreadful bats trying to get into my 
 hair !" 
 
 The man laughed softly and drew her to him. 
 
 "Silly one," said he, "the bat couldn't be 
 persuaded to get into even your hair! He 
 would have the poor taste to consider it most 
 annoying." 
 
 "Oh, but he might blunder into it by mis- 
 take," persisted the girl, her wide eyes follow- 
 ing apprehensively, from the shelter of his arm, 
 the evolutions of the two dancing shadows. 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 269 
 
 "You know they are almost blind. And 
 when I was a little girl, Nurse told me that if 
 ever a bat got into my hair, I'd have to have 
 it all cut off, because he would be so snarled 
 up in it there would be no such thing as getting 
 him out." 
 
 "Nurse knew a tremendous lot of things that 
 weren't so, I should imagine," rejoined the 
 man. "You will save yourself much anxiety, 
 sweet, on summer evenings, if you bear in mind 
 that bats are as far as possible from being 
 blind. They are marvellously keen-sighted, and 
 they never blunder, but fly and dodge with 
 an accuracy far beyond that of any bird. 
 Either of those little chaps fluttering around us 
 now could pick a gnat off the tip of your small, 
 delectable nose without so much as grazing 
 you with his wing." 
 
 "Oh!" said the girl in a tone of relief. 
 "But I don't like them, anyhow. I wish 
 they would go away." 
 
 "Like all the world, they hasten to gratify 
 your slightest wish!" responded the man, 
 laughing again. For, even at the girl's last 
 words, both Puck and his playmate had swung 
 away and vanished among the tree-tops. 
 
 It was not that they understood English, or 
 
270 PUCK O' THE DUSK 
 
 had received upon their sensitive nerve centres 
 a telepathic message from the girl's aversion. 
 Not at all. The fact was simply that the 
 little mother had grown tired, from the weight 
 of her babies hanging to her neck, and had 
 flown off to find a safe branch whereon to hide 
 them for a few moments. 
 
 High up in the dark top of a pine tree, 
 the cup-like hollow of a forked bough received 
 the two young ones, who, at some injunction 
 from their mother, flattened their tiny forms 
 to the bark and clung fast to its roughness. 
 There could be no danger for them here, 
 thought the little mother. So she left them, to 
 rest her wings for a few minutes in unburdened 
 flight, and to sup again on a few more gnats 
 and moths. Puck had watched her deposit 
 her babies on the branch, and now flew off 
 with her light-heartedly to forage above the 
 flower-beds. 
 
 They had not been away for more than five 
 minutes, when the little mother suddenly got 
 it into her head that her babies wanted her. 
 On a swinging upward curve she sped in haste 
 back to the pine-top, and Puck, after a second's 
 hesitation, followed at her tiny heels. 
 
 Now, it chanced that a weasel, his cruel eye? 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 271 
 
 red with, rage and lust of blood, was hunting 
 in the pine tree. He had just lost the trail 
 of a squirrel, which he had been pursuing so 
 closely that he had counted it already his. 
 He had fairly imagined his teeth in the poor 
 chatterer's throat, when, by some miracle of 
 the night and night among the wild kindreds 
 is full of miracles quarry and trail had 
 disappeared. It was in the pine tree it had 
 happened, and the furious hunter was quest- 
 ing all over the tree for the lost scent, deter- 
 mined that his malignancy should not be 
 balked. In his search he ran, sinuous and 
 swift as a snake, out along that high branch 
 in one of whose outer forks the little bat had 
 left her babies. 
 
 Now, Puck o' the Dusk, in all his short life, 
 had never had a real difference of opinion with 
 anything more formidable than a hawk-moth 
 or a cockchafer. He knew vaguely what an 
 irresistible and terrible monster was that long, 
 dark shape on the branch, yet he did not 
 hesitate. The weasel was astounded to feel 
 a hard wing-tip drawn sharply across his face. 
 With a thin snarl he sprang upward half the 
 length of his body, snapping at his audacious 
 insulter. But his long, white teeth closed on 
 
272 PUCK O' THE DUSK 
 
 empty air, and he nearly lost his balance on the 
 branch. As he recovered himself, bursting 
 with fury, he saw behind him, almost within 
 reach, a dark little fluttering shadow appar- 
 ently sprawling on the branch, like a wounded 
 night-jar. Doubling on himself as lithely as 
 an eel, he darted like a jet of flame upon the 
 insolent little shadow. But even as he did so, 
 it was gone; and a few feet below the branch 
 he saw Puck o' the Dusk flitting leisurely to 
 and fro. His narrow-set eyes blazed like live 
 coals, and he gnashed his long white fangs at 
 the indignity of having been so flouted by a 
 paltry bat. But while he glared down at his 
 small challenger, the little mother had safely 
 gathered her droll babies to her neck and 
 sailed off with them through the gloom. For 
 the moment, after such an experience, she 
 had had enough of frivolling. She thought 
 only of getting her babies back into their safe 
 cranny in the roof of the barn, where she could 
 nurse them, and lick their silky fur, and clean 
 the dainty membranes of their delicate little 
 wings by passing them carefully between her 
 lips. 
 
 Left once more to himself, Puck o' the Dusk, 
 perhaps excited and over-daring from his sue- 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 273 
 
 cessful adventure with the weasel, promptly 
 fell foul of another novel experience. Close 
 in front of the house he chased a big moth, 
 which was flying with unwonted swiftness. 
 Hard pressed, it flew straight into the dark- 
 ness of a wide-open window. Puck followed 
 audaciously. He caught the fugitive as it 
 bumped up against the ceiling. In the same 
 instant a maid shut the window. Then, with- 
 out noticing the intruder, she went out and 
 shut the door. 
 
 Puck, thinking to go out as easily as he had 
 come in, flew hard against the pale glimmer of 
 the glass. He was a little dazed, and very 
 much astonished. Again, and yet once again, 
 he tried to penetrate the hard, invisible barrier, 
 but not blindly, or in panic violence, as a bird 
 would have done. He kept his head even in 
 this startling and unprecedented emergency. 
 His keen vision, after the first shock of sur- 
 prise, differentiated the glass from the airy 
 space beyond, and he coolly gave up essaying 
 the impossible. Then he devoted himself to a 
 minute examination of every hole and corner 
 in the room; yet so accurate was he in sight 
 and flight alike, that though the room was 
 full of dainty bibelots and fragile knick-knacks, 
 
274 PUCK O' THE DUSK 
 
 the beating of his wings disturbed nothing. 
 He went under every piece of furniture, behind 
 every picture, and investigated persistently 
 the screen which closed the fireplace for the 
 summer. In the course of this minute ex- 
 ploration he routed out an unexpected variety 
 of insects, and he was by no means too per- 
 turbed to devour all such dainties that fell 
 to his lot. 
 
 The night passed in this way, with some 
 anxiety, indeed, but without monotony. 
 When dawn came grey through the window, 
 and the colour began to return to the glowing 
 geranium-beds, then Puck relinquished his 
 vain quest, but not in despair, by any means. 
 Day for him was the time to go to bed. Hang- 
 ing himself up comfortably in a fold of the 
 heavy portieres at one end of the room, he 
 went to sleep with as philosophical a compo- 
 sure as if he had been on his board under the 
 peak of the old barn. 
 
 A few hours later two housemaids came 
 into the room and fell to cleaning it. In the 
 course of this operation they took down the 
 portieres. They shook them in a haphazard 
 way, preparatory to folding them up. To 
 their consternation, out fell Puck o' the Dusk. 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 275 
 
 Their screams at the sight of this monster, 
 nearly four inches long, brought in the man who 
 had been walking in the garden with the girl 
 the night before. He was in riding-breeches 
 and gloves. Puck, only half awake, and very 
 angry at having been so rudely disturbed, 
 sat up on the rug with wings half outspread 
 and tiny black eyes sparkling. The expres- 
 sion of his opinions to the housemaids was as 
 vehement as he could make it, and sounded 
 something like the winding of a very large and 
 very insufficiently oiled dollar watch. ' 
 
 "Good Heavens, Jane," exclaimed the 
 man, "I thought that you and Grace must 
 have unearthed at least a hippopotamus, from 
 the row you're making ! Do you think that 
 this poor little bat is going to eat you?" 
 
 He stooped to pick Puck up, but the little 
 fellow sputtered at him shrilly, and snapped 
 at him with such defiance that the man was 
 glad of his thick gloves. The maids tittered. 
 
 "See there, sir!" said Jane audaciously. 
 "He'd eat us if he could, he's that savage!" 
 
 "He certainly is a plucky little devil," said 
 the man, as he lifted him gently in his gloved 
 hands and carried him to the window. 
 
 Puck was very wide awake now, and his 
 
276 PUCK O' THE DUSK 
 
 watch-winding was shrill with indignation 
 over his imprisonment in the man's hands. 
 At the window the man released him. The 
 glare of full daylight dazzled him, but, shutting 
 his eyes to a hair-like slit, almost invisible, he 
 could make out the landscape quite clearly. 
 In an instant he had launched himself, and in 
 the next he was fluttering among the nearest 
 branches. Keeping as far as possible among 
 the trees, he made for the water's edge, and so 
 along the meadows to the old barn. A minute 
 or two later he was hanging himself up, un- 
 ruffled, beside his sleeping comrades in the 
 warm brown gloom of the peak. 
 
 In the ordinary course of events, Puck 
 would now have settled himself to sleep away 
 the rest of the daylight. But this twenty- 
 four hours was destined to be a crowded time 
 for him. On the narrow, topmost rafter, 
 just a few feet below him, he observed his play- 
 mate of the previous evening, the little mother 
 with her two babies. She had deposited them 
 on the smooth surface of the beam, while she 
 herself was occupied with her toilet a matter 
 which is of as much concern to a bat as it is to 
 the daintiest of cats. With amazing expert- 
 ness she would scratch herself behind the ears 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 277 
 
 with the clawed tips of her wing-elbows, and 
 comb the fur on apparently inaccessible por- 
 tions of her body. Then she would take her 
 wing membranes, first one, then the other, 
 and stretch them, examine them, pass them 
 between her teeth, and lick them, till there 
 could be no question as to their immaculate- 
 ness. 
 
 While she was thus occupied, one of the 
 swallows from the mud nests under the eaves 
 darted hastily up into the peak in pursuit of a 
 big purple bee. The desperate insect, just 
 evading its pursuer in the peak, boomed down- 
 wards close over the rafter, almost grazing 
 the baby bats as he passed. The swallow, 
 dashing after him recklessly, more than grazed 
 the little sprawlers. He brushed them so 
 rudely that they were swept clean off the 
 rafter. Untaught as yet to fly, they never- 
 theless spread instinctively their fragile wings, 
 and fell flutteringly, like two dead oak leaves, 
 to the floor below. 
 
 The barn floor, fortunately, was littered thick 
 with the seeds and tips and refuse of last 
 year's hay, so the babies landed softly and 
 were not hurt. But they landed far apart, 
 as two whirling leaves might have done. The 
 
278 PUCK O' THE DUSK 
 
 mother, who at the moment of the accident 
 was fairly enveloped in the folds of her wings, 
 disengaged herself frantically and swooped 
 downwards after them. Then Puck, grown 
 enterprising from his late adventures, came 
 zigzagging down in her wake to see if there 
 was anything he could do. 
 
 There was, and that instantly. The big 
 rat who lived under the barn floor was just 
 coming out of his hole. He thought he had 
 seen something fall, and though he did not 
 know what it was, he came scuttling forward 
 with high hopes. It might, he thought, be a 
 young swallow dropped or crowded out of its 
 nest, and he liked young swallows, for variety. 
 
 Suddenly his attention was distracted by a 
 light blow on his head. It was a bat, which 
 had apparently almost dropped upon his back. 
 He was not angry quite the contrary he 
 was immensely interested. He had never 
 eaten a bat, though he had often wanted to; 
 and here, seemingly, was his chance, for this 
 bat appeared to be hurt or sick. He jumped 
 up at it. He missed it, to be sure, but not by 
 so very much; and the bat was still fluttering 
 feebly almost within his reach. Again and 
 again he sprang, his long, white teeth snapping 
 
PUCK O' THE DUSK 279 
 
 together with a horrid click, but catching 
 nothing, till presently he found himself once 
 more over by the hole in the corner whence he 
 had just emerged. Then, to his disgust, the 
 feebly fluttering shape which had seemed just 
 within his clutch went darting off on strong 
 wings to the roof, while another bat rose 
 whirling from the middle of the floor, with 
 two little ones clinging to her neck. 
 
 Baffled and sullen, the rat crept out into the 
 grass to console himself with easy grasshoppers; 
 while Puck o' the Dusk, swelling with triumph, 
 swung back to his high perch. What with owls 
 and weasels, moths and men and rats, he felt 
 far from his customary drowsiness; so he set 
 himself to a toilet elaborate and minute, as be- 
 fitted a brown bat of his achievements. 
 
A Harassed Householder 
 
 A LTHOUGH he had never had the advan- 
 -/jL tage of reading a bargain sale adver- 
 tisement, the big fur seal needed no exhorta- 
 tion to come early and avoid the rush. This 
 was his second season as a full-grown bull, 
 the responsible freeholder of a patch of naked 
 rock-ledge on the skirts of an island in Bering 
 Sea. 
 
 The preceding season he had been late in 
 coming north; and so, for all his wrath and 
 his battle prowess, he had fared poorly, as 
 to both location and wives. He had been 
 forced to content himself with a mean and 
 exposed shelf of rock far back from the water, 
 and with a paltry harem of three mild-eyed 
 but more or less dilapidated little mates. 
 These three, captured, after ferocious battles, 
 from two of the neighbouring bulls, had suf- 
 fered much mishandling in the contest over 
 their submissive charms, and their usually 
 
 280 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 281 
 
 sleek coats showed a wear and tear that would 
 have daunted the cleverest furrier of the Rue 
 de la Paix. 
 
 Remembering, therefore, all the price he 
 had paid for being late, this bull of the fur 
 seals had early grown restless in the purple 
 southern seas, and turned his face northward 
 betimes. Up along the steep and thundering 
 coasts of California and Oregon, through the 
 tremendous Pacific rollers, he swam stead- 
 fastly, now darting like a fish, now gliding at 
 terrific speed with a sinuous, oily succession 
 of fine curves, as if making of his whole pliant 
 body a mighty screw to propel him through 
 the water. For the most part, intent upon 
 his journey, he swam at some little distance 
 below the surface, thrusting up his whiskered 
 muzzle from time to time to breathe, and 
 catching as he went, in those teeming seas, 
 fish enough to satisfy even his unsleeping 
 appetite for fish. But every now and then he 
 and his fellow- voyagers for he had the com- 
 pany of other wise bulls on his northward 
 quest would stop and spend some precious 
 time in basking or lazy play under the seduc- 
 tive spring sun, as if, for the moment, a wave of 
 oblivion had swept over their brains, and they 
 
282 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 had forgotten the urgency of their pur- 
 pose. 
 
 In the main it was a care-free journey, this 
 migration of the advance-guard of the seal. 
 All full-grown bulls, fierce and agile, their 
 bodies, some six feet or more in length, one 
 mass of lithe and corded muscle, they had 
 few enemies to fear even in those dangerous 
 southern waters. No shark could catch them 
 unless through carelessness of their own; 
 and with his superior speed and his marvellous 
 suppleness in dodging, a great bull seal was 
 capable of making things more or less un- 
 pleasant for the clumsy shark. He dreaded, 
 however, that lightning-swift and merciless 
 assassin, the sword-fish, flashing up out of the 
 deeps without warning. And he was always 
 keenly on the watch for that black-and-white 
 shape of doom, the dreadful orca, or " killer" 
 whale. The worst enemies of the northward- 
 moving seals, however those unscrupulous 
 marauders, the poaching pelagic sealers left 
 him and his fellows severely alone, because his 
 fur, coarse and battle-scarred, was valueless. 
 These rascals were far behind, waiting for the 
 sleek young cows and for the rich-furred two- 
 year-old and three-year-old young bulls the 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 283 
 
 "bachelors," as they are called by the hunters 
 of the seal. 
 
 But though no pirate poachers approached 
 to harass his journey, before he had passed 
 beyond the long stretch of the British Colum- 
 bian coast, the big seal got one serious fright. 
 Somewhere off the Queen Charlotte Islands a 
 Canadian Government cutter, little, but busy 
 and keen as a terrier after rats, steamed in 
 among the herd. The big bull dived deep, 
 straight down into the dim green glimmer, 
 terrified by the darting black bulk and the 
 fiercely churning screw, and the rest of the 
 herd scattered in panic. But not before the 
 Canadian commander had had time to satisfy 
 himself that this was but the advance-guard of 
 old bulls, and that he must seek his quarry, 
 the poaching sealers, further to the south. 
 
 After this, the big seal swerved far to the 
 westward, following the vast sweep of the 
 Alaskan coast. In his growing eagerness, he 
 kept to the very forefront of the vanguard, 
 and so, rounding the tip of Alaska, he passed 
 through the chain of the Aleutian Islands, 
 where they stretch out like stepping-stones 
 toward the neighbour continent, and came into 
 the shallow tides of Bering Sea. Hitherto, 
 
284 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 his journey had been singularly uneventful; 
 but just here he ran into an adventure that 
 came near bringing his career to an abrupt, 
 inglorious end. 
 
 In the estuary of a bleak Arctic stream he 
 encountered a vast shoal of salmon heading up 
 for the spawning-beds. It was one of those 
 occasions when the most self-contained of seals 
 might be pardoned for a flurry of excitement. 
 The whole herd went wild. It was the Feast 
 of the Salmon. Through the packed, silvery 
 shoal the great, lithe, black, glistening bodies 
 darted hither and thither, killing, in a sort of 
 delirium, many times more than they could 
 devour, till the pallid, murky flood was stained 
 in wide patches to a watery pink. Here and 
 there a narrow black head, fiercely whiskered, 
 and surmounting a long, massive neck of tre- 
 mendous power, would thrust itself high above 
 the seething waters, gripping a fat, convulsive 
 salmon in its jaws. As if in sheer wantonness 
 of destruction, the shining fish would be bitten 
 clean in two, one mouthful gulped, and the 
 bleeding fragments dropped into the water. 
 Then the riotous fisherman would plunge for a 
 new prey. It was a bad hour for the salmon. 
 Along the nearer shore of the estuary prowled 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 285 
 
 certain leisurely white bears, who would plunge 
 into the thronged tide, pick out their prizes, 
 and carry them ashore to be devoured at ease. 
 But the hordes of salmon, urged on by an in- 
 exorable desire, never swerved or halted, and 
 their numbers were so incalculable that not all 
 the assaults of seal and bear combined seemed 
 to diminish them in the least. 
 
 In the exuberance of his play with the 
 salmon, the big seal chanced to trespass on the 
 none too amiable repose of a strange-looking 
 sea-creature which was rolling sluggishly from 
 side to side on the muddy bottom. This 
 beast, of a pale, corpse-like colour, and some 
 twelve feet in length, suggested some past 
 mesalliance between a unicorn and a porpoise. 
 From the middle of its huge, blunt snout pro- 
 truded, to a length of fully six feet, a massive, 
 keenly-pointed, curiously- twisted tusk of hard- 
 est ivory. Its cold, little, pig-like eyes re- 
 garded indifferently the myriads of the salmon 
 passing above it, because, for the time, its 
 giant appetite was sated with salmon. 
 
 The water of the estuary, at this point, 
 was not more than ten or twelve feet deep; 
 and it chanced that the big seal, in one of his 
 reckless plunges, slapped the narwhal rudely 
 
286 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER- 
 
 across the snout with his hind flippers. Possi- 
 bly the narwhal, at that moment, was suffer- 
 ing from incipient indigestion. His temper 
 was certainly light on the trigger. In a 
 sudden fury he darted upwards. The seal, 
 out of the corner of his eye, saw the rise of 
 that pale bulk, though it was almost imper- 
 ceptible in the turbid water. He writhed 
 aside, doubling upon himself like an eel; and 
 he was barely in time. That fine lance of 
 ivory missed, indeed, his vitals, but it ploughed 
 a red gash up his side, just behind the fore- 
 flipper. 
 
 With the ferocity of his rush, the narwhal 
 shot his tusk and half his body out of the water. 
 The seal, in a rage at the attack, darted at him 
 as he came down, and slashed him savagely 
 across the pig-like eye. Then, realizing, per- 
 haps, that his assailant's armour of blubber 
 was too thick for his teeth to do much with, 
 he glided off and was lost among the salmon 
 while the narwhal sank back heavily to his 
 interrupted digestion on the mud. 
 
 It was an almost windless morning, under a 
 pale, low sun, when the big seal came to that 
 particular island of the Pribilov group which 
 he had been holding in his mind's eye all 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 287 
 
 through the northward journey. The coast 
 nay, the whole island was barren and bleak 
 beyond depiction, but the point where the seal 
 floundered ashore and pre-empted his claim 
 had certain advantages which his kind was 
 quick to appreciate. Not half a mile off shore 
 lay another flat island, long and narrow, which 
 served as a breakwater against the heavy seas 
 of the open. Moreover, in the channel between 
 there were always plenty of fish, and the water 
 came deep right up to the lip of the ledge on 
 which he had established himself. 
 
 As he landed, he was followed at once, all 
 along the wide curve of the ledge, by the 
 throngs of his fellow-travellers. And in- 
 stantly the Polar stillness, which had been 
 breathless as death, was shattered with harsh, 
 barking roars and grunting yells as the new 
 arrivals wrangled savagely over their holdings. 
 
 Here the big bull made himself immediately 
 at home, his roof the sky, his house walls the 
 four winds, his floor a gently-sloping space of 
 rock that not the maddest Arctic storm would 
 be able to jar. How desirable a holding he had 
 taken up was promptly proved to him. He 
 had not been five minutes in possession before 
 he had to fight for it. Another bull, even 
 
288 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 bigger than himself, grizzled about the muzzle, 
 and with the welt of an old wound white across 
 his face, flounced up the ledge and flung him- 
 self in fury upon the householder. From the 
 indignant confidence of the attack, it was, 
 perhaps, the previous season's tenant, strong 
 in imagined rights. But, on those wild 
 ledges, no rights hold but those which might 
 can prove. With a roar, the householder 
 elongated and reared aloft his curious, loose- 
 knit frame, and came down upon the intruder 
 with demoralizing force. 
 
 The householder had the advantage of 
 position, being the higher on the slope. His 
 hind flippers, broad, short, and powerful, and 
 turned forward, like the hind limbs of a land 
 quadruped, instead of helplessly backward, 
 like those of the eastern seals, gave him a 
 secure base for his attack. He slashed his 
 opponent mercilessly at the first stroke, and 
 bore him back to the very lip of the ledge. 
 The intruder was bulky and powerful, how- 
 ever, and made good his foothold. And here, 
 for some minutes, the battle hung in doubt. 
 The well-matched adversaries roared their 
 angry defiance as they fought, while their 
 nearest neighbours clamoured in sympathy. 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 289 
 
 Their mighty necks, glistening in the level 
 sunbeams, twisted this way and that, their 
 heads darting almost too swiftly for the eye 
 to follow, as they slashed at each other's 
 throats and parried the deadly strokes with 
 wide-open jaws. At last that superior fire and 
 energy which had enabled the householder 
 to be first of all the herd to arrive began 
 to overmaster his foe's superior weight. The 
 intruder was suffering heavily, and all at 
 once, either losing his nerve for a moment, 
 or weakened by his wounds, he was overbal- 
 anced and hurled into the water. Leaning 
 from the ledge, and waving his head sinuously, 
 the householder waited for the battle to be re- 
 newed. But the intruder had had enough. 
 For one moment he thrust his head high above 
 the water and eyed his enemy. Then, diving, 
 he swam off in dejection, and took up a place 
 on the exposed outskirts of the settlement. 1 
 
 Within the next four-and-twenty hours the 
 householder had four more battles to fight in 
 order to make good his title to his holding. 
 But none of these later contests were equal to 
 the first in severity. Then, fortunately for his 
 
 1 The settlement of the fur seals on their breeding-grounds 
 is called a " rookery." 
 
290 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 bleeding flanks, life became less strenuous as 
 the rookery settled down. 
 
 Nevertheless, though the big seal now got a 
 chance to rest and recover his breath, the price 
 of his repose was eternal vigilance. Late- 
 comers kept arriving, swimming up to the 
 ledge and threatening to challenge his occu- 
 pancy of the choice location. But, sprawling 
 close to the lip of the rock, his bleeding bulk in 
 plain view, his mighty neck swaying alertly, 
 his big, intelligent eyes agleam with savage 
 watchfulness, he presented so formidable and 
 prepared a front that his would-be challengers 
 usually reconsidered, and swam on to look 
 for an easier venture. If any did try to land, 
 the householder was down upon them before 
 they could gain a footing, and they got away 
 with their gashes as best they might. Then 
 there were his immediate neighbours, two 
 big, aggressive bulls, to guard against. They 
 had secured good locations of their own, but 
 they were always threatening to encroach on 
 the boundaries which he had established for 
 himself. These boundaries were, indeed, per- 
 haps a bit over-ample, but the householder 
 was planning for a large household, to make 
 up for his failure of the previous season. And 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 291 
 
 with vehement barking and roaring he warned 
 back every attempt at encroachment. 
 
 A curious part of the situation was that the 
 ceaselessly-harassed householder had now no 
 time to eat. Had he left his post for a moment, 
 he would have found it occupied on his return, 
 and been compelled to fight a doubtful battle 
 for its recapture. Not a dozen paces from 
 his nose there was plenty to eat fat fish 
 swarming in the icy, green sea but he could 
 not go and catch them. In this, to be sure, 
 he was no worse off than his fellows and rivals. 
 Every bull who had secured a decent place 
 had to give all his time and attention to the 
 guarding of it. 
 
 It was now about the first of May, and for 
 five or six weeks, through the long, pale glare 
 of the interminable Arctic day, with the low 
 sun swinging around the horizon and hardly 
 more than dipping beneath it, the householder 
 never broke his fast. He hardly dared to sleep, 
 even, lest some audacious young new-comer 
 should steal a march on him. Fortunately, 
 he was fat, from his winter of good feeding 
 and easy living, and the store of firm blubber 
 beneath his hide kept his vital forces well 
 nourished. 
 
292 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 About the end of the month began to arrive 
 the sleek and amiable hordes of the "half- 
 bulls" and the " bachelors," too young as yet 
 to mate, or even to aspire to such a responsi- 
 bility. With them came a host of the little, 
 mild-eyed, yearling cows, playful children of 
 the sea. To all these thronging innocents the 
 old bulls paid no attention whatever. They 
 swarmed ashore on the outskirts of the rook- 
 ery, pleased with whatever quarters they could 
 get, and passed their heedless hours when 
 not engrossed with the business of fishing in 
 gambolling as joyously as a lot of children just 
 let out from school. 
 
 And then, at last, in the first week of June, 
 came the long-looked-for event for which all 
 this householding and watching and fighting 
 and fasting were but the preparation the 
 arrival of the full-grown cows. 
 
 They arrived in ever-increasing detachments, 
 crowding upon each other's flippers. 
 
 As the cows are full-grown at two years old, 
 and the bulls not till the age of seven, and as 
 the females, moreover, are born in greater 
 numbers than the males, they outnumber the 
 adult bulls by ten or twelve to one. Never- 
 theless, there was not a bull in the herd but 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 293 
 
 was quite sure there would never be enough to 
 "go around." 
 
 The first two cows to arrive came swimming, 
 one a foot or two behind the other, straight for 
 the ledge of our harassed but triumphant 
 householder, who awaited them with agitated 
 head reaching and darting as far as possible out 
 over the water. The cow of the fur seal is far 
 smaller than her polygamous and domineering 
 lord, soft-eyed and mild-mannered. As the 
 leading swimmer reached the ledge, before she 
 had time to scramble up of her own accord, 
 the householder grabbed her unceremoniously 
 by the scruff of the neck, and helped her ashore 
 with more vigor than tact. That uncom- 
 promising grip of his teeth upon her neck must 
 have been painful, but the little cow seemed 
 to take it as evidence of devotion, for she made 
 no complaint. Her sudden spouse, however, 
 took no time to court, or even to admire, his 
 glistening bride. Thrusting her behind him, 
 he wheeled like a flash to extend the same 
 gallant attention to her sister-voyager. But 
 he was too late. His energetic neighbour on 
 the right had forestalled him just in time, and 
 successfully dragged off the unreluctant fair to 
 grace his own hearth. 
 
294 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 Roaring with disappointment and jealousy, 
 the householder floundered over his boundary 
 to reclaim what he counted his own. But, 
 as he did so, a backward glance showed his 
 neighbour on the left coming to steal the bride 
 whom he had already secured. For an in- 
 stant he wavered, in an agony of indecision. 
 But the faithless little cow, making no effort to 
 follow him, seemed shamelessly indifferent to 
 the prospect of a sudden change of lords. So 
 he flounced furiously back to her side, and 
 stood guard above her with gaping jaws; and 
 the would-be thief, who had already more 
 than once tasted the householder's mettle, had 
 the discretion to back off. 
 
 By this time the cows were arriving in such 
 numbers that every big seal had enough to 
 do in capturing those which came within his 
 reach, without trying to rob his neighbours. 
 The householder, alert and untiring, succeeded, 
 during the next forty-eight hours or so, in 
 grabbing and installing no fewer than a score 
 and half of mild-eyed little mates, who huddled 
 meekly on the ledge behind him, and watched 
 admiringly his herculean efforts to add to their 
 number. They were not troubled by jealousy. 
 Most of them, perhaps, were proud to belong to 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 295 
 
 a well-stocked harem, whose numbers attested 
 the fighting powers of their lord. Two, to 
 be sure, did allow themselves to be lured off 
 while the householder was busy helping new 
 arrivals ashore by an improvident young bull 
 in the rear ranks, who had hitherto been un- 
 able to secure a mate. But, for the most part, 
 there was a something in the grip of the house- 
 holder's jaws on their necks which they could 
 not forget. It proved him a masterful lover, 
 and subdued any impulse to stray. 
 
 For some days the belated companies of 
 the cows kept straggling in, and the house- 
 holder, his good fortune in the way of oppor- 
 tunity never failing him, presently found himself 
 at the head of a harem of over forty mem- 
 bers. For his great heart and broad ambitions 
 it was none too many, but it made him a centre 
 of bitterest enmity. Even his strenuous neigh- 
 bours on either side of him had no such com- 
 pany on their ledges, and to the rear was a 
 scattered line of young bulls who had come 
 late, and were ever on the look-out for a chance 
 to poach. The householder was so harassed 
 by his honours that he had no time to snatch 
 a wink of sleep; and as for eating, that was 
 an indulgence he had not allowed himself for 
 
296 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 so long that he had almost forgotten what it 
 was like. Forty wives and all waiting to be 
 stolen by any stronger or more crafty suitor 
 who might come along ! It was something 
 even for the harassed householder to keep them 
 all counted. He kept floundering vigilantly 
 around the huddled throng; and if any one, 
 feeling herself neglected or overlooked, tried 
 to slip off and join some forlorn-looking suitor 
 in the back row, she speedily found that she 
 was not so much forgotten as she had thought. 
 She would be grabbed by the neck, shaken into 
 abject penitence, and thrust back into the 
 centre of the harem. All this, of course, was 
 not accomplished without continual skirmishes, 
 as this or that disappointed trespasser would 
 take courage to show fight. But the house- 
 holder was so much too strong and clever a 
 fighter for the inexperienced young bulls of 
 the back line, that such skirmishes were always 
 quickly ended. 
 
 Within a few days of the arrival of the cows, 
 the woolly, little, baby-faced "pups" began 
 to be born. As the births increased, the 
 troubles of the householder began to diminish 
 a little. As soon as a pup was born in his 
 harem, the mother was safe not to stray. But 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 297 
 
 trespassers continued to be as dangerous as 
 ever, for those gallant robbers were no shirkers 
 of responsibility, and were always ready to 
 steal mother and pup together. As soon as 
 the young were over their first abject help- 
 lessness, the mothers were permitted to leave 
 the harem, strictly by the front door, in order 
 to catch fish and keep up their supply of milk 
 for the little ones, for the householder knew 
 that no cow would now fail to come back. 
 But for himself there was still neither rest nor 
 food. There was nothing for him to do but 
 stay at home, keep awake, watch the little 
 ones of forty wives, and fight off persistent 
 rivals. It was a wearing existence. He was 
 by this time no longer a sleek and well-fed 
 gallant, but a gaunt hideful of bones adorned 
 with unlovely though honourable scars. All 
 his strength and fire, however, remained to 
 him unimpaired, and no rival challenged him 
 without being made to repent it. 
 
 But one day there came an enemy whom 
 even the householder's prowess could not defy. 
 The seal-hunters arrived at the rookery. They 
 were not those indiscriminate slaughterers, 
 the poachers, but the legitimate hunters, who 
 came to kill with discretion. They did not 
 
298 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 interfere with the old bulls and their breeding 
 households, though the bulls all roared at 
 them dauntlessly. They invaded the play- 
 grounds of the unmated youth, and, sparing 
 the little females, made awful havoc among 
 the half-bulls and the bachelors, till the once 
 happy playground was hideous with the blood 
 and the dead. Yet they were careful to spare 
 a good percentage of even the unhappy bache- 
 lors, in order that the profitable tribe of the fur 
 seals might not be killed out. 
 
 Among the seal-hunters came a thoughtful 
 man, whose purpose was not to kill, but to 
 observe. He did not like the killing. His 
 inquiring nose wrinkled with aversion as he 
 eyed the slaughter for a moment to see just 
 how it was done. Then he turned away in 
 some haste to study the rest of the rookery, to 
 shoot at it with his camera, and to find out how 
 the fur seal conducted itself when more in- 
 terestingly employed than in being killed. 
 Slowly he made his way along behind the 
 rookery, heedless of threats and roars and 
 snapping jaws, and halting at every other step 
 to level his lens and click his shutter. At 
 last, filled with enthusiasm and facts, he 
 came behind the ledge where the war-worn 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 299 
 
 householder guarded his harem of forty fair. 
 This immense family and its towering 
 guardian caught the observer's eye. Here, 
 indeed, was a household to be made a note of. 
 First he snapped it from a distance. Then 
 he determined to invade its crowded privacy 
 and study its home arrangements. Avoiding, 
 without much heed, the angry bulls of the rear 
 line, with their meagre harems, he made his 
 way fearlessly right in among the shrinking 
 cows and the round-eyed, trusting pups of the 
 householder's family. He had been seeing so 
 many seals killed, and so easily, that he had 
 acquired a mistaken idea of that creature's 
 courage. Ignoring the harsh warning of the 
 householder, he stooped down to examine and 
 fondle one of the pups, which gazed up at him 
 fearlessly with eyes of pathetic depth and 
 softness. 
 
 Now, the householder knew very well what 
 this stranger was the invincible Man, sub- 
 jugator of all beasts, able to kill instantly and 
 invisibly or with darting flame. But he had 
 no hesitation ; he took no account of risks in 
 defending his hearth. An awkward but dan- 
 gerous figure, he came lunging valiantly to the 
 attack. 
 
300 A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 
 
 Just in the nick of time the man looked up, 
 to see the ragged bulk descending upon him. 
 He leapt wildly, dropping his camera, and 
 escaped the fatal slash of his assailant's jaws. 
 But one great flipper struck him, and he fell 
 headlong, half stunned, over the back of a 
 protesting cow. Fortunately for him, the 
 householder paused to crush the camera, 
 and the man, shaking his head in a half-dazed 
 way, had time to recover himself sufficiently 
 to meet the next floundering assault. The 
 only weapon he carried was a heavy knotted 
 stick, which served him both as walking-stick 
 and club. As he sprang aside, he caught his 
 adversary a stiff blow on the nose the most 
 vulnerable point of a seal and the house- 
 holder collapsed like a punctured tire. 
 
 The man looked down with compunction 
 on his fallen foe, picked up the wreck of his 
 camera, patted a pup that would not get out 
 of his way, and withdrew. When he had 
 passed the rear line of bulls, he looked back, 
 and saw, to his infinite satisfaction, that his 
 stroke had been less effective than he had 
 feared. The householder, slowly recovering, 
 was lifting up his dauntless head, scanning his 
 family to see that none were stolen, and once 
 
A HARASSED HOUSEHOLDER 301 
 
 more, though still somewhat faintly, roaring his 
 defiance to all comers. When, a few days 
 later, the satisfied hunters left the island, the 
 householder could not but feel that he himself 
 had been the cause of their departure. As 
 there was no one to dispute his theory, it is 
 not strange that he found it satisfying. 
 
 Some six weeks later, toward the end of 
 July, the pups being by this time strong enough 
 to travel, and the pangs of his prolonged fast 
 having grown unbearable, the householder 
 and all his rivals came suddenly to the con- 
 clusion that it was not worth while striving 
 at such cost to hold their harems together. 
 They remembered that next year they might 
 hope to gather others just as interesting. And 
 all at once, their fiercest feuds forgotten, 
 they plumped into the water and began hun- 
 grily chasing fish. Presently all turned their 
 faces southward, and soon the bleak ledges 
 were left solitary once more to confront the 
 storm and cold of the oncoming Arctic night. 
 
Ishmael of the Hemlocks 
 
 AN Ishmael indeed, his fangs and his 
 claws were against every other dweller 
 of the wilderness, great or small. And every 
 other dweller of the wilderness was against 
 him the small and weak with an unsleeping 
 terror, and even the powerful with a hate that 
 was not unmixed with dread. The bear him- 
 self, serenely scornful of much larger foes, 
 condescended to regard him with a vigilant 
 animosity. Only the giant moose ignored him 
 utterly, and stalked through the forest uncon- 
 scious of his presence. 
 
 Yet this creature that was able to win him- 
 self the tribute of so much fear and so much 
 hate, this Ishmael of the hemlocks, was no 
 bigger than a bobcat or a fox. Among the 
 backwoodsmen and the trappers he was known 
 by various names. The most common of 
 these was "the fisher/' though why he should 
 be so called was something of a mystery, his 
 prowess as a fisherman being much inferior 
 
 302 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 303 
 
 even to that of the racoon, and, of course, in no 
 way to be compared with the skill of such ex- 
 perts as the mink or the otter. He was known 
 also as the "black cat," though he was not 
 black, and neither was he a cat. That he 
 should have been so inappropriately named, 
 however, is perhaps not so surprising as it 
 seems at first glance. His personality was not 
 one that lent itself to exact or intimate obser- 
 vation; and such information as men were 
 able to pick up in regard to him was quite apt, 
 in the long run, to prove mistaken. 
 
 A member of the great and redoubtable 
 Mustela family, this Ishmael of the hemlock 
 glooms had all the lightning agility and fero- 
 cious courage of his little cousin, the weasel, 
 together with the merciless craft and much 
 of the astonishing muscular strength of his 
 bulkier kinsman, the hated wolverine, or 
 "Injun devil." Though hardly more than 
 three feet in length, from his sharp, cruel 
 muzzle to the tip of his handsome, bushy tail, 
 by reason of the incredible swiftness and 
 savagery of his attack he was more than a 
 match for the most powerful of foxes, or for 
 any dog of less than twice his size. The few 
 adversaries whom he was forced to recognize as 
 
304 ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 outclassing him in strength he could generally 
 manage to overreach by craft. 
 
 It was in a dark and tangled hemlock wood 
 that Ishmael had his retreat, where the sombre 
 evergreens shut out the sun in winter as in 
 summer, and fallen, decaying trunks made 
 the earth a labyrinth of tortuous runways 
 and unexpected hiding-places. This was his 
 chosen domain, for he climbed like a squirrel, 
 and it was all the same to him whether he 
 travelled on the ground or by way of the 
 swaying tree-tops. But, thanks to his all-too- 
 effective methods of hunting, game was no 
 longer very abundant in the hemlock wood, 
 and he was wont to forage far afield. Running 
 soundlessly as a mink and tirelessly as a wolf, 
 he would cover enormous distances between 
 the evening and the morning red. Being no 
 respecter of bounds, he poached impartially 
 on all preserves, challenging every other 
 marauder of the forest to the contest of either 
 strength or cunning. And all day, amid the 
 sombre green shadows of the hemlocks, he 
 would sleep, curled up like a peaceful tabby, 
 in the heart of a hollow trunk. He was fond 
 of sleep. His tremendous energies required a 
 lot of it. And this was fortunate for the 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 305 
 
 other forest kindreds, who were thus enabled 
 to go all day freely hither through the hemlock 
 glooms, on their furtive affairs intent, without 
 fear of the dreaded sleeper in his tree. But, 
 when dusk fell, even the nimble wood-mice 
 were shy of the neighbourhood; and the wild 
 rabbits, who were IshmaePs chief dependence 
 for his daily diet, fled to the more open hard- 
 wood ridges for their moonlight revellings. 
 Even that implacable litter killer, the weasel, 
 forbore to hunt in the hemlock wood. For 
 he knew that Ishmael would not only hunt 
 him perhaps for sheer delight in the difficult 
 chase but would even devour his rank and 
 stringy flesh, tough as whipcord, which none 
 of the other forest prowlers would touch 
 unless in the extremest pangs of hunger. 
 
 On a certain spring evening, when the light 
 of an early-rising moon silvered the hemlock 
 tops even before the last of the sunset had 
 faded from the sky, Ishmael awoke with an 
 unusual appetite. He came gliding forth 
 somewhat hurriedly, and took not his usual 
 time to stretch himself on the long, slanting 
 trunk which led down from his hole. On the 
 previous night he had fed exclusively on rabbit, 
 and rabbit meat has this peculiarity that, 
 
306 ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 as the woodsmen say, it does not "stand by 
 one." After ever so hearty a meal of it, one 
 is soon hungry again; so that they who feed 
 on that flesh must feed often, which is, perhaps, 
 a provision of Nature, that the prolific family 
 of the rabbits shall not be allowed to overrun 
 the earth. 
 
 As Ishmael emerged upon his ladder, a 
 hollow, booming voice cried suddenly through 
 the tree-tops. It was a dreadful voice, and it 
 sounded very near, though with a vagueness 
 that made it impossible to say just where it 
 came from. Ishmael knew that menacing 
 voice very well; but, paying no heed to it 
 whatever, he ran on down the sloping trunk. 
 The great horned owl, the terror of all the 
 lesser prowlers of the night, had no terrors for 
 him. 
 
 But this winged marauder, as it chanced, 
 was a new-comer a migrant from those par- 
 tially-settled districts south of the Ottanoonsis 
 Valley, where the fishers, who loathe the 
 habitations and neighbourhood of man, never 
 ranged. He was unacquainted with Ishmael. 
 His wide, pale, staring eyes saw a furry shape 
 glide down the trunk. As the gliding shape 
 came out into a patch of moonlight, he half 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 307 
 
 closed his downy wings above his back, and 
 swooped upon it soundlessly. Just as he did 
 so, Ishmael looked up with a wide-mouthed 
 snarl. There was something in that snarl so 
 terrible that the great owl realized he had made 
 a mistake. With a violent flap he veered 
 aside. But it was a close thing for him. 
 Ishmael's lithe neck shot out, and his fangs 
 sank into the owl's padded thigh. He got 
 no more, however, than a mouthful of very 
 downy feathers, and the discomfited bird, 
 flapping hastily away from so dangerous a 
 proximity, left him furiously pawing at his 
 mouth to rid himself of the clinging, exasper- 
 ating fluff. 
 
 Reaching the ground, Ishmael ran on in an 
 evil temper. He was not expecting game in 
 that neighbourhood, so he went in haste, 
 travelling in long, noiseless leaps, the very 
 embodiment of force and speed and precision. 
 But in order not to miss any opportunity which 
 the chances of the chase might throw in his 
 way, he went with his nose held high, alert to 
 catch any passing scent. 
 
 Emerging from the hemlock glooms, he 
 entered a region of young second growth, 
 where thickets of half-grown fir and spruce 
 
308 ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 intermingled with patches of birch, poplar, 
 maple, and cherry. Here, on a sudden, a 
 strong scent drew across his nostrils. He 
 stopped as if shot, and stiffened to instant 
 rigidity, half erect, muzzle held high, while 
 his keen nose questioned the air in every direc- 
 tion. The scent was that of a porcupine, and 
 it was so fresh, so insistent, that he knew the 
 prickly rodent must be close at hand. His 
 implacable eyes, sharp and close-set, peered 
 all about him. At last, glancing upwards he 
 caught sight of a dark ball swaying far out on 
 the slender bough of a tall birch tree. 
 
 Now the porcupine is a quarry which the 
 rest of the forest hunters are loath to meddle 
 with. His deadly quills, sharp as needles, 
 and so armed with tiny barbs that, once fixed, 
 they will work their way ever inwards inex- 
 orably till they reach, perhaps, a vital spot, 
 are a peril which only starvation itself will 
 drive the weasel, the fox, or the lynx to face. 
 But Ishmael had the secret of dealing with 
 porcupines, and he knew that the flesh beneath 
 that dangerous armour was strong and satis- 
 fying. He was up the birch tree and out upon 
 the swaying branch before the heavy- wit ted 
 porcupine had any suspicion of his approach. 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 309 
 
 Very cautiously now Ishmael crept out 
 along the slender branch, which bent low 
 under the increasing weight. Perhaps wonder- 
 ing why he had suddenly grown so much 
 heavier, the porcupine slowly turned, to climb 
 back to a less precarious support. Before he 
 was much more than half-way around, he found 
 himself confronted, at a distance of a few 
 inches, by the silent, deadly face of Ishmael, 
 crouched low on the branch. 
 
 Instantly every quill of the porcupine 's de- 
 fences stood erect; but his position was one so 
 awkward that he could not immediately coil 
 himself up into that ball of needle-points which 
 all his foes so dreaded. Convulsively he strove 
 to get his naked, unprotected face curled down 
 between his paws. But the doom before him 
 struck too quickly. IshmaePs head darted 
 forward, swift and straight as a rattler's, shot 
 in under the threatening frontlet of barbs, 
 and fixed inexorable fangs in the porcupine's 
 nose. 
 
 At the same instant, knowing all the possible 
 dangers of the situation, Ishmael began to back 
 briskly up the branch. The porcupine strug- 
 gled to double upon himself, in order to strike 
 at his enemy with his armed and powerful 
 
3io ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 tail. He was being dragged along too rudely 
 for that. Digging in his claws and holding 
 back with all his strength, he struggled to re- 
 sist his captor and to wrench his bleeding 
 muzzle free. But he was jerked forward so 
 savagely that his scant wits all but forsook him. 
 
 The evening twilight, mysterious with its 
 mingling of sunset and moonrise, had hitherto 
 been voicelessly still, except for the occasional 
 solemn twanging note of a night-hawk, swoop- 
 ing across the violet dome of sky. Now, 
 however, the peace was broken by a hideous 
 confusion of sounds, suppressed but desperate. 
 Except to one immediately beneath the tree, 
 the struggle was unseen. But the fierce rat- 
 tling of branches, the breathless, grunting 
 squeaks, the tearing of claws dragged remorse- 
 lessly from their hold on the bark, were elo- 
 quent of tragedy. 
 
 Reaching the crotch of the bough, Ishmael 
 braced his lithe hind-quarters securely upon 
 the main trunk, and with a sudden jerk 
 swung the porcupine clean off his feet, dashing 
 him violently against a branch below. Half 
 stunned and wholly bewildered, the wretched 
 victim laid back all his quills as he swung 
 there, and clawed frantically for a footing. 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 311 
 
 Ishmael allowed him almost to gain one, and 
 then, as he hung thus extended and defenceless, 
 loosed hold upon his nose and caught him by 
 the throat. The victim's struggles at once 
 grew feebler, and in a few moments ceased 
 altogether. When he hung quite limp, Ish- 
 mael let go, and the body dropped to the 
 ground. Following it with a rush, lest some 
 other hunter should forestall him, Ishmael 
 carefully turned it over upon its back, 
 knowing that all the under-parts were soft 
 and unprotected and fell to his meal. 
 
 Having eaten all he could, with the confi- 
 dence of an ever-successful hunter, he left the 
 remnants indifferently for whoever might 
 come by, and betook himself to the high and 
 ample crotch of a neighbouring beech tree. 
 Here he proceeded to make a careful toilet, 
 cleansing his fine fur scrupulously till not a 
 trace of his late sanguinary adventure re- 
 mained. Then, as wide awake and as keen for 
 the chase as if he had had nothing to eat for 
 hours, he slipped down from the beech tree 
 and raced on through the moon-silvered still- 
 ness. 
 
 Presently across the stillness came the 
 light babble of running water. As if at the 
 
312 ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 sound a memory had flashed upon him, he 
 swerved sharply aside, and in a few seconds 
 came out upon a little grassy meadow on the 
 shores of a shallow brook which sang softly 
 over its pebbles. But Ishmael was not thirsty. 
 He paid no heed to the water, but went sniffing 
 about among the herbage, till presently he 
 found what he was looking for. Straightway 
 he fell to rolling himself over and over in it, 
 and biting at it in a sort of ecstasy. What 
 he had found was a bed of catnip, for which 
 herb he had all the semi-delirious passion of 
 the cats themselves. 
 
 Having satiated himself with this luxury, 
 Ishmael kept on up the stream, his nose held 
 high, as usual, but the keenness of his scent 
 somewhat blunted, for the moment, by the 
 pungency of the catnip. It was because of 
 this, perhaps, that, on whisking around a huge 
 half -rotten stump, he ran plump into a big 
 black bear which was grubbing for beetles in 
 the rich mould. The bear made a furious pass 
 at him with her gigantic paw, and Ishmael 
 flashed aside just in time to escape being 
 crushed. Startled and enraged, he darted 
 around the stump, and, reappearing suddenly 
 on the other side, snarled venomously and 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 313 
 
 made as if to spring at the great beast's throat. 
 He was by no means insane, however; and 
 when the bear lunged forward at him with a 
 grunt of hate, he slipped away like a snake 
 into the undergrowth. 
 
 Some five minutes later, while creeping 
 swiftly under the branches of a dense fir thicket, 
 he ran full upon something warm and alive, 
 lying huddled up upon the ground. His 
 nose had not warned him perhaps because 
 the young of the wild creatures seem, at times, 
 to have a protective lack of scent and his 
 eyes had not warned him, because the motion- 
 less little form, both in colour and in outline, 
 seemed to melt into its surroundings. Never- 
 theless, Ishmael was not taken by surprise. 
 His practised jaws went instantly and un- 
 erringly to this new quarry's throat. There 
 was a sharp bleat of agony and terror, a pa- 
 thetically brief and feeble beating^ of awkward 
 limbs. Carefully as its anxious mother had 
 hidden it, the baby fawn too soon had met the 
 doom of the wild. 
 
 Ishmael liked venison young venison 
 even better than porcupine; so, though he 
 was not exactly hungry, he drank the warm 
 blood greedily, and even managed to partake 
 
3H ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 of a little solid dessert. While thus pleasantly 
 occupied, however, he kept a sharp look-out 
 for the old doe, whose knife-edged hooves and 
 mother rage would, as he knew, make her 
 dangerous even for him. Suddenly there 
 sounded a brusque swishing and crashing of 
 branches. But it was not the doe that came 
 bursting into the thicket. It was the great 
 black bear. She had followed him up, and 
 now she was come to rob him of his kill. 
 
 For a second or two Ishmael went all but 
 blind with fury. He crouched upon his prey, 
 facing the intruder with so malignant a rage 
 that it almost seemed to efface the disparity of 
 their statures. The bear, however, cared noth- 
 ing for his rage. She lumbered forward and 
 struck swiftly at the small brown beast that 
 was so presumptuous as to withstand her. 
 
 The blow, of course, fell on nothing; Ish- 
 mael had vanished like a shadow. An instant 
 later the bear felt a piercing pang in the great 
 muscles just above her heel. She wheeled 
 and struck again like lightning. But Ishmael 
 was already gone. He crouched, snarling 
 softly, some dozen feet away, challenging her 
 to pursue. 
 
 But the bear, for all her rage, was not to be 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 315 
 
 lured. The wound she had received was pain- 
 ful enough, to be sure, but it was not grave; 
 her opponent's jaws were not wide enough to 
 inflict serious damage on her great furry limb. 
 She knew that in nimbleness she was no match 
 for the vicious little antagonist that taunted 
 her. And she was hungry. She had two 
 bright-eyed whimsical cubs in her den beneath 
 the rocky lip of the ridge, and their appe- 
 tites made a demand upon her breasts which 
 a diet of wood-grubs and wild tubers hardly 
 enabled her to satisfy. The flesh of the fawn 
 was a godsend to her. Mumbling indignantly, 
 she fell to her repast, but she kept the while 
 a wary eye on the foe. 
 
 Now, Ishmael, as it chanced, knew all about 
 that den on the ridge and its precious occu- 
 pants. From a safe distance he had surveyed 
 it, gnashing his teeth with malice, but not 
 quite liking to risk the perilous adventure of 
 invading it. Now, however, his rage blotted 
 out his always scant endowment of caution. 
 Even so, his cunning did not quite desert him. 
 He made a final threatening rush at his great 
 adversary, to make sure of attracting her 
 undivided attention, and then, as if daunted 
 at last by the fury of her counter-attack, he 
 
316 ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 darted away, not too swiftly, in a direction 
 exactly opposite to that which would lead him 
 to the den. Craftily he kept to the moonlit 
 patches of open, and the old bear's eyes fol- 
 lowed him suspiciously till he was lost in the 
 confusion of the shadows. 
 
 Satisfied at last that he was well beyond 
 eyeshot, he wheeled in his tracks, made a 
 short detour, and sped straight for the crest 
 of the ridge. 
 
 The old bear had her den in a little cave 
 with a narrow entrance, just where the tilted 
 strata of slate which formed the extremity of 
 Blue Ridge broke off sharply and overhung 
 a deep ravine. Up from the ravine, on the 
 windless air, came the light clamour of Blue 
 Ridge Brook, an unconsidered tributary of 
 the turbulent Ottanoonsis. For some fifteen 
 feet along the face of the steep ran a broken 
 ledge, which led to the entrance of the cave. 
 Full upon the entrance shone now the un- 
 clouded moonlight, washing whitely across 
 the straight spires of the fir trees in the valley 
 below. 
 
 It was obviously a perilous cul-de-sac, 
 with no back door to retreat by, but Ishmael 
 did not hesitate. He knew that the old bear 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 317 
 
 was far away, down in the thickets on the 
 other side of the ridge, devouring her stolen 
 meal. He glided along the ledge, his dark, 
 lithe shape conspicuous for a moment in the 
 moonlight. Then he slipped into the cave. 
 
 The two glossy cubs, about the size of house 
 cats, were beginning to get hungry. Huddled 
 together at the back of the den, they were 
 whimpering softly to themselves, their small, 
 pointed ears cocked to listen for the shuffle 
 of their mother's returning footsteps, their 
 bright, droll little eyes fixed eagerly on the 
 patch of brightness that filled their doorway. 
 Suddenly they saw, not their mother's huge 
 form, which always blotted out the light, but 
 a low, slender shape, which entered with a 
 graceful, leaping bound. They knew at once 
 that it was deadly, that leaping figure, whose 
 eyes fixed theirs with so steady and cruel a 
 glare ; and both set up a shrill, whimpering 
 call for help. 
 
 But the two cubs were very different in their 
 tempers, as often happens in the case of ani- 
 mals so variable and so highly individualized 
 as the bear. One of the two faced the peril 
 boldly, a baby paw uplifted to strike, and 
 the thin, black edges of his lips curled back 
 
318 ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 defiantly from his tiny teeth. The other, 
 appalled on the instant by the menace of those 
 approaching eyes, shivered violently and lost all 
 power of motion. 
 
 It was this little unfortunate that first 
 caught IshmaePs eye. Darting straight at 
 its throat, he rolled it over on its back and be- 
 gan tearing it savagely. There was the joy of 
 satisfied vengeance in that kill, and Ishmael, 
 for the moment, forgot his cunning. 
 
 A few seconds later he was disturbed by a 
 feeble clawing and nipping at his hind-quarters. 
 The other cub, being of the mettle which 
 recks not of odds, had come valiantly to the 
 aid of his little bed-fellow. With dripping 
 jaws and a furious snarl, Ishmael whipped 
 about to rid himself of this ineffectual assailant. 
 But in that same instant his ears caught the 
 sound of a swift padding on the rocks outside. 
 With one lightning bound, as if his body were 
 all steel springs, he reached the mouth of the 
 cave. 
 
 But in the same instant the mother bear, 
 breathless with haste, reached it also. Some 
 shock of instinctive fear had shaken her at 
 the very beginning of her feast, and she had 
 not lingered to think about it she had come. 
 
ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 319 
 
 One huge paw, with a sweeping stroke, met 
 Ishmael full in the face, crushing his head 
 back between his shoulders and pinning him 
 to the rock. Then the other descended like a 
 pile-driver upon his slender loins. Even in 
 his death-throe Ishmael' s jaws worked, biting 
 madly and blindly. But in a second or two 
 it was all over. He lay without a quiver, a 
 shapeless mass of blood and fur beneath the 
 avenger's feet. 
 
 The old bear drew back and eyed the body 
 for a moment, then she hurried into the 
 den, whimpering with anxiety. The uninjured 
 cub came sprawling forward to meet her. 
 She gave him a hasty lick and sniff, assuring 
 herself that he was not hurt, and then turned 
 to the dead one. Whining, she sniffed at it, 
 and licked it, and turned it over tenderly with 
 her paw. It was, perhaps, a full minute 
 before she could quite make up her mind that 
 it was dead. When she could no longer doubt 
 the truth, she stopped whining. Lifting the 
 limp little body in her jaws, she carried it out- 
 side the cave and laid it down lingeringly on a 
 steep slope of rock. As if this were just what 
 she had planned for, it slipped slowly from its 
 place and fell sprawlingly, rolling over and 
 
320 ISHMAEL OF THE HEMLOCKS 
 
 over, till it lodged and hung in the branches 
 of an aged spruce some fifty feet below. 
 
 The mother did not stay to watch it. Turn- 
 ing back abruptly, she threw herself once more 
 upon the carcase of Ishmael, beating it and 
 rending it with her claws till it resembled 
 nothing that had ever roamed the wilds. 
 Being a fastidious feeder in her way a lover of 
 honey and fruits and delicate meat she would 
 not condescend to eat this rank and fibrous 
 flesh. When she had fully wreaked her ven- 
 geance upon it, she flung it contemptuously far 
 over the ledge, and withdrew into the cave to 
 suckle her remaining little one. As for what 
 remained of Ishmael, it fell to the bottom of 
 the ravine, there to feed some ancient grudge 
 of fox or wild-cat, or, perhaps, more ignomini- 
 ously, to make long festival for the scavenger 
 beetles and the blow-flies. 
 
The Spotted Stranger 
 
 HE looked curiously out of place in these 
 austere, dark-green, brown-carpeted 
 northern woods of spruce and fir. His bright 
 golden-tawny coat, sown with vivid black spots, 
 made him very conspicuous in the shadowy 
 glooms. 
 
 And he felt quite as out of place as he 
 looked. He had never before seen anything 
 like these northern woods. In his native 
 Indian jungle, where the air steamed and 
 quivered, reeking with heavy scents, there 
 was always a riot of hot colour, much 
 golden-yellow of stem and leaf and burnt 
 bamboo mingling with the rank greens and 
 glowing blossoms, and all splashed with 
 thick blotchy shadows under the intense 
 sun. Into such surroundings his own hot 
 colouring had ever blended to a marvel, so 
 that it had been hard for the most vigilant 
 
 Y 3 2I 
 
322 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 of eyes to detect him as he went prowling 
 noiselessly in search of his prey. But here 
 he felt himself naked to every observer. 
 Half angry, half afraid, his powerful tail 
 lashed jerkily from side to side as he crept 
 along, belly to earth, his fierce eyes glancing 
 this way and that in search of either a quarry 
 or a hiding-place. 
 
 He was hungry, this lean Indian leopard; 
 but a place wherein to conceal himself and 
 rest, while taking stock, so to speak, of his 
 new surroundings, was even more important 
 to him than food. His nerves were still 
 quivering from the shouts and screams, the 
 choking smoke, the blinding glare, the flames 
 that had seemed to pounce and lick hungrily 
 after him, and all the maddening uproar of 
 the fire which had destroyed the circus and 
 set him free. He did not know that he 
 owed his escape to a kindly attendant who 
 had opened his cage in the turmoil, only to 
 be knocked down and terribly clawed in his 
 wild plunge for safety. He hardly knew, or 
 he remembered but confusedly, how in his 
 flight through the settled country he had 
 been shot at, chased by yelping dogs, charged 
 by a herd of angry and curious cattle, and 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 323 
 
 all but run down by a roaring locomotive 
 whose speed he had perilously misjudged. 
 All that he quite realized just now was the 
 cool solitude and the silence, and, very 
 keenly, the strange vistas of the tree-trunks, 
 which seemed to be always opening out from 
 him in every direction. They kept him 
 glancing ceaselessly every way at once, in a 
 fashion most exhausting to the nerves. He 
 grew as anxious as a cornered rat for a hole. 
 What he wanted was a place that he could 
 back into, and thence stare out with some 
 sense of security upon this altogether novel 
 and uncomprehended species of world. 
 Savage, crafty, powerful, and confident in 
 his powers, he had little fear of what he 
 knew and understood. But, like most highly- 
 organized creatures with some development 
 of the imagination, he feared the unknown. 
 He wanted to make sure of a fair chance 
 to observe it before undertaking to cope 
 with it. 
 
 Yet what seemed to him a solitude was in 
 reality populous enough, had his eyes but 
 been initiated to it. The tiny, grey-brown, 
 elfin shapes of the wood-mice stared at him 
 an instant, then fell back with thin squeaks 
 
324 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 of amazement into their burrows under the 
 fir roots. From behind a stump a yellow- 
 brown weasel, of the same hue as the carpet 
 of dead fir needles, glared at him with eyes 
 as wild as his own and far more savagely 
 malignant. Little black-and-white wood- 
 peckers, running up the hemlock trunks, 
 peered around at him curiously, keeping 
 their bodies well out of the range of his 
 baleful stare. The chicadees stopped hunting 
 insects under the bark, and wondered at him 
 as he passed, then flew on ahead, with a fine- 
 drawn tsic-a-dee-dee-dee, to get another look 
 at so novel a visitor to the fir forests. And 
 a big porcupine, hanging sleepily in a hem- 
 lock branch, glanced down upon him with 
 eyes of supreme indifference. 
 
 At last, however, a red squirrel chanced to 
 catch sight of the bright-spotted stranger. 
 Frisking nearer, from branch to branch, he 
 ran half-way down a big trunk, spread legs 
 and tail wide, scrutinized the leopard with 
 his great, luminous, unspeakably insolent eyes, 
 and set up a chatter so shrill that the quiet 
 aisles of the forest rang with it. 
 
 Thoroughly startled, the leopard crouched 
 in his tracks, and shrank as if some one had 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 325 
 
 flicked a whip in his face. Then in a rage he 
 pounced at the impudent little reviler. Of 
 course, the latter was gone in an eye-wink, 
 and his loud mockery shrilled out from the 
 top of the tree. Up went the leopard after 
 him, agile and swift. But almost in the 
 same instant the squirrel was shrieking his 
 insults from the next tree and the next. 
 
 Much disgusted, the leopard came down 
 again and resumed his journey. His insulter, 
 he decided, was much too insignificant to 
 be noticed, either as a prey or as a foe. But 
 in this he was mistaken. The noisy abuse of 
 the little red imp brought several more of his 
 kind, equally eloquent; and to swell the 
 clamour came presently some half-dozen blue 
 jays and whisky-jacks, who fluttered and 
 whistled and squealed about the brilliant 
 stranger till his heart was ready to burst 
 with the sheer cold impotence of his rage. 
 To be sure, he had known something not 
 unlike this before, when, in his own jungle, 
 he had been baited and reviled by a 
 throng of gibbering monkeys. In that case 
 he had at last succeeded in catching one of 
 his revilers and eating him a most consoling 
 form of vengeance. But his present tor- 
 
326 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 mentors were so little and elusive that he 
 could indulge himself in no such hope. 
 
 At last, however, he came to a sort of 
 tangle of rock overgrown with brambles, 
 bracken, and birch saplings, and therein he 
 presently found a crevice which almost 
 amounted to a cave. Crawling into it, he 
 turned around and lay down with a vast 
 sense of relief. The retreat was so small 
 that his head came out to the very entrance, 
 making his concealment somewhat incomplete. 
 But at least no mysterious enemy could now 
 come upon him from the rear. His front he 
 would make shift to defend against all 
 comers. 
 
 As soon as he was settled, he curled his 
 great paws demurely under his chin, shut his 
 eyes to the narrowest thread-like slits, and 
 appeared to sleep. Encouraged by this in- 
 difference, his tormentors flocked down 
 among the bracken, almost under his nose. 
 He took no notice. The jays became par- 
 ticularly audacious, screaming and hopping 
 up with lifted wings, and cocking their 
 bright eyes at him in unmeasured derision. 
 At last one alighted within a couple of feet 
 of his very muzzle. For a fraction of a 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 327 
 
 second the rash bird saw a pair of immense 
 pale eyes that opened suddenly upon her. 
 Then a spotted paw shot forth, swift as 
 light, and she was but a flattened bunch of 
 bright blue feathers under it. 
 
 With an outburst of hysterical shrieks, the 
 whole mob, squirrels and all, took themselves 
 off. The stranger, blinking with satisfaction, 
 devoured the meagre prize, and wiped the 
 feathers from his chaps with both paws. 
 
 The clamour of jay and squirrel having 
 died away, the stranger lay looking out 
 quietly upon his new domain. For a long 
 time nothing stirred. But the forest soon 
 forgets. In a little while the leopard marked 
 a curious figure prowling between the trunks 
 some forty or fifty paces from his hiding- 
 place. He saw at once that it was some kind 
 of a cat, but with strange, high, humped 
 hindquarters, a mere stub of a tail, 
 and a very large round face, fiercely ruffed 
 and whiskered. It was not as large as 
 himself, by any means ; but, all the same, it 
 was so formidable-looking that he thought 
 best not to go out and try conclusions with 
 it at least, not till he should come to feel a 
 little better acquainted. Such an enterprise 
 
328 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 as that could wait. Even as he was coming 
 to this conclusion the lynx picked up his 
 trail. At that great footprint and menacing, 
 unknown scent, the grim prowler stopped 
 short. For a moment he sniffed at the trail 
 inquiringly, the long hair lifting slowly along 
 his back. Then with pale, wide eyes he 
 swept an apprehensive glare about him, and 
 went off with huge, noiseless leaps through 
 the grey trunks. 
 
 The leopard blinked again, and opened 
 and shut his great claws like a gratified cat. 
 He was beginning to stand less in awe of 
 this strange northern world. 
 
 The lynx had not been more than five 
 minutes gone when a brown rabbit came 
 leaping excitedly through the bracken. It 
 appeared to be fleeing from some pursuer. 
 Just in front of the cave it halted, sat up on 
 its haunches, and glanced back nervously, 
 its immense ears apprehensively erect. With 
 one bound, the leopard shot from his doorway 
 and fell upon it. This was a kill worth 
 making, and he cared little what other hunter 
 had been trying for it. As he lay making 
 his meal, a lithe, tawny little shape darted 
 from the bracken, snarled venomously in his 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 329 
 
 very face, and flashed away before he could 
 put his paw upon it. 
 
 After this repast the stranger slept com- 
 fortably for an hour or so, and woke up 
 feeling considerably at home with his novel 
 surroundings. It seemed pretty evident that 
 he was going to find good hunting, and 
 he had as yet seen no sign of any creature 
 strong enough or daring enough to challenge 
 his right to it. The forest was now dim with 
 the first purples of the twilight, and he felt 
 himself called to the chase. No longer a 
 nervous fugitive, but master of a snug lair 
 and lord of an apparently limitless range, he 
 stalked forth, stretched himself luxuriously, 
 and wandered off to look for water. 
 
 Only a couple of hundred yards beyond 
 his retreat he found it a low-shored, glassy 
 lake, now glimmering with amber and violet 
 under the last of the sunset. Crouching at 
 the water's edge, he stared up and down the 
 lonely shores as he drank, and then quickly 
 shrank back among the fir trees. He had 
 caught sight of many fine hoof-tracks lead- 
 ing down to the white beach, and realized that 
 there were deer about. The deer were his 
 favourite quarry. He licked his lips and 
 
330 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 climbed hastily into a big hemlock con- 
 veniently near the trails. 
 
 From the deeps of violet sky straight 
 overhead came the long, twanging note of 
 a swooping night-hawk. It was a strange 
 sound to the wanderer from the tropics, and 
 he peered upwards curiously through the 
 branches, unable to make it out. Then his 
 attention was diverted by a sound of foot- 
 falls coming down the trail. They were 
 heavy footfalls, which made the dry twigs 
 crackle heedlessly, as if the wayfarer did not 
 care who knew of his comings or his goings. 
 The leopard curled his lips back from his 
 fangs at this manifestation of self-confidence, 
 and drew himself together for a tremendous 
 spring. From the nature of the footfalls 
 his experienced ear told him that it was no 
 pad-footed creature that was approaching, 
 but a hoofed beast of some sort, and he ex- 
 pected a heavy buck, upon whose neck he 
 would fall and tear his throat. 
 
 But at sight of the shape which came 
 stalking into his view he changed his mind 
 for the moment. This was not a beast to 
 be challenged lightly. 
 
 It was a bull moose, tall and black and im- 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 331 
 
 posing. His immense and humped shoulders, 
 short, thick neck, and massive, long-snouted 
 head proclaimed the strength of a buffalo; 
 while the fierce, little twinkling eyes, which 
 disdained to keep a look-out for enemies, 
 showed a spirit which would know how to 
 use that strength. His broad, palmated 
 antlers, of vast spread and apparently enor- 
 mous weight, were such a weapon as the 
 leopard had never before contemplated, and 
 they made a great impression upon him. He 
 could not know, of course, that at this season 
 the antlers were not yet fully developed, 
 but spongy and tender and altogether use- 
 less. 
 
 The moose strode on down to the water's 
 edge, waded out belly deep, and with noisy 
 splashings began pulling the tough-rooted 
 water-lily stems. The lake was shallow, and 
 he was so far out from shore that the leopard 
 could not observe him very well. Consumed 
 with curiosity, he came down out of his tree, 
 crept to the waterside, and there crouched 
 staring. 
 
 Presently the moose, catching sight of 
 that spotted, sinuous form on the beach, 
 stopped pulling lilies and stared haughtily 
 
332 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 in return. The longer he stared, the less he 
 seemed to like the stranger's looks. First 
 he snorted his distaste, loudly and unmistak- 
 ably; then he came splashing heavily shore- 
 ward to give more forcible expression to his 
 dislike. For a moment or two the leopard 
 stood his ground, as if ready to try conclu- 
 sions at once with this formidable rival; 
 then, thinking better of it, he withdrew 
 slowly up the beach. The moose, quite 
 unimpressed either by his dignity or by his 
 look of dangerous power, came ashore with a 
 rush and charged after him, all dripping. 
 
 With a harsh snarl, the leopard wheeled 
 and crouched to spring. To his amazement, 
 the great black beast, instead of coming at 
 him head down as he expected, danced 
 forward, striking out swiftly with great 
 battering fore-hooves, whose edges would 
 cut like steel. Confounded by such an 
 unheard-of mode of attack, which he did 
 not know how to meet, the leopard sprang 
 lithely aside and ran up his hemlock tree. 
 Apparently much surprised at this perform- 
 ance, the moose stopped short and stood for 
 some moments staring and snorting. Then 
 he shook himself long and well, turned his 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 333 
 
 back, wriggled his meagre little tail con- 
 temptuously, and loitered off into the woods, 
 browsing as he went. 
 
 In a very ugly mood after this discomfiture, 
 the leopard dropped presently from his perch 
 and crept stealthily homeward. He would 
 wait till later in the night for his deer-hunting. 
 In his breast rankled a savage hate for the 
 big black beast which had so outfaced 
 him, and he studied for his revenge. It 
 was in this unconsidering frame of mind 
 that he encountered a little black-and-white 
 creature, hardly so big as a rabbit, which 
 crossed his path, and paused to look at him 
 with leisurely curiosity. 
 
 Had he been cooler, the mere fact that a 
 creature so tiny did not seem to fear him 
 would have been enough in itself to make 
 him pause and investigate. There was some- 
 thing altogether unnatural in such an atti- 
 tude; but instead of taking warning, he was 
 only the more enraged by what seemed to 
 him an unparalleled piece of impudence. 
 He pounced with a snarl. At the same 
 instant something terrible struck him full 
 in the face. It was blinding, suffocating, in- 
 describable. With a strangling cry he jerked 
 
334 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 himself backwards; and the little striped 
 thing, slipping out unhurt from almost 
 between his paws, strolled off calmly among 
 the bushes. It was a great piece of bad 
 luck for the spotted stranger from India 
 that he had never been taught anything about 
 skunks. 
 
 With that strangling horror in his eyes 
 and nostrils viscous, clinging, all-pervasive 
 it was some seconds before the leopard 
 could draw breath. Then he went into a 
 paroxysm, pawing frantically at his face and 
 rolling in the moss and ferns. The pawing 
 did no good, so at last he took to rooting deep 
 through the moss and down into the cool, 
 moist mould beneath. Instinctively he had 
 found his way to Nature's own remedy for his 
 trouble. Fresh earth is the best antidote 
 and the best cleanser for it. In a few 
 minutes he could draw his breath fairly, and 
 make shift to see; but to get himself clean, 
 that was another matter. And, oh, how he 
 hated himself ! As soon as he could see 
 clearly enough, he went racing though the 
 woods hi a crazy effort to escape from that 
 overpowering smell. He was fairly exhausted 
 before he came to realize that he was carrying 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 335 
 
 it with him. Then, returning somewhat to 
 his senses, he scratched a big hole in the 
 moist earth, and fell to rolling, burrowing, 
 and wallowing in it. When that wallow 
 was too thoroughly infected to be of any 
 use, he went on and dug himself another, 
 and yet again another. By the time the 
 first of the dawn had begun to steal coldly 
 through the forest, he had reached the con- 
 clusion that there was nothing more to be 
 done. Thereupon he made an elaborate 
 toilet, pawing and licking himself like a cat, 
 till at last he managed to persuade himself 
 that he was once more clean. As a matter 
 of fact, however, he still carried upon his 
 fur as he would for days a pungent 
 and sickening reminder of his insignificant- 
 looking but terrible little foe. 
 
 Bitter as had been the experience, the 
 leopard forthwith began to reap a certain 
 substantial benefit from it. His own scent, 
 which most of the wild creatures found 
 so terrifying, was for the time thoroughly 
 disguised. The rabbits, always curious, would 
 not allow him to come quite within leaping 
 distance before taking alarm. Because he 
 smelled like a skunk, they stupidly concluded 
 
336 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 that he could leap no further than a skunk. 
 The deer, too it was surprising how easy 
 they were to stalk, so long as they were not 
 allowed to catch sight of him. If they saw 
 him, of course they did not stop to investi- 
 gate. They knew nothing of leopards, these 
 Canadian deer, but they had an ominous 
 tradition of panthers in the family; and 
 they had wit enough to know that what 
 looked like a panther with spots was not 
 improbably quite as dangerous as one with- 
 out that adornment. 
 
 Full fed on rabbit and deer meat, and his 
 nostrils at length somewhat blunted to the 
 unsavoury scent which everywhere accom- 
 panied him, during the next four or five 
 days the leopard grew very well content 
 with his surroundings. The one fly in his 
 ointment was the great bull moose. Day 
 after day, from some secure concealment, he 
 observed the arrogantly indifferent black 
 monster, and bared fang and claw with 
 impotent rage. But never could he quite 
 make up his mind to provoke the perilous 
 encounter. He felt that he might perhaps 
 win by dropping upon the bull's neck from 
 some convenient branch. But then, again, 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 337 
 
 he felt that he might lose. And the idea of 
 being slashed and stamped down by those 
 great splay hooves, which sometimes clacked 
 so strangely as their owner went by, filled him 
 with discretion. He wisely concluded that 
 the time was not yet ripe for that adventure. 
 
 And while he was nursing this grudge, came 
 the day of his great mistake. 
 
 Overlooking the lake was a slope of 
 mountain-side covered with patches of blue- 
 berry barren, and rising suddenly to a half 
 naked up thrust of grey granite. Thinking 
 perhaps to enlarge the bounds of his range, 
 and perhaps to vary his diet a little with 
 unknown game, the leopard started to ex- 
 plore the nearer slopes. 
 
 The blueberries were in their prime here 
 in this high, cold, late-summered region. 
 They clung thick-massed all over the low 
 bushes, bright as globules of lapis-lazuli 
 under the downpour of the sparkling sun- 
 light. Shoulder deep among them the leop- 
 ard marked a small, glossy-black, chubby 
 animal, who was stripping and gulping 
 down the juicy fruit with loud gulps 
 of satisfaction. Sometimes, as if unable 
 to absorb them fast enough by any other 
 
338 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 process, he would sit up on his plump 
 little haunches, grasp the whole top of a 
 loaded bush in his forearms, and fairly 
 wallow his face in it till the purple juices 
 daubed him to the very ears. 
 
 The leopard knew at once that this droll 
 and greedy little beast was a bear cub, 
 rolling in fat and exceedingly good to eat. 
 As it happened, he was acquainted with only 
 two kinds of bear the little, humorous 
 black bear of the Himalayas, courageous 
 enough, but feeble, and the sluggish, in- 
 offensive ant-bear. He was quite ignorant 
 of the temper and the capabilities of the black 
 bear of Eastern Canada. And ignorance is 
 one of those faults which Nature, sternest 
 of parents, is apt at times to punish with 
 the most implacable severity. It is not all 
 her children who are fortunate enough to 
 survive her harsh lessons. 
 
 The leopard crouched for a few minutes, 
 watching with narrowed lids the riotous 
 feasting of the cub. Then his appetite and 
 his ferocity overcame him. The cub seemed 
 to be alone, and he had nothing to fear, in 
 any case, from such bears as he knew any- 
 thing about. Like a great missile of spotted 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 339 
 
 gold, he hurled himself through the air, fell 
 upon the merry cub, and bit through its 
 neck with one crunch of his powerful jaws. 
 Then, not liking the glare and exposure of 
 the open, he lifted the limp little body 
 and turned to carry it in under the fir 
 trees. 
 
 Even as he turned, a great shadow came 
 between him and the sun. Instinctively he 
 bounded aside. But in the very instant 
 that his tense limbs left the ground, a 
 gigantic bulk fell upon him, crushing him 
 back again. With a screech of startled 
 fury, he writhed from under it, one flank 
 flayed to the ribs by the impact of the 
 mother bear's avenging paw. She strove 
 to hold him down with her great weight. 
 But his muscles, lithe as whipcord, had the 
 knit strength of steel, together with a well- 
 nigh unbelievable store of elastic nervous 
 energy. The explosive violence of his con- 
 tortions almost succeeded in throwing her off 
 - almost, but not quite. Foiled in his effort 
 to break from her deadly clutch, he twisted 
 his body around so that he could bite at her 
 throat and bring his claws into action. 
 Very gladly would he have made his escape 
 
340 THE SPOTTED STRANGER 
 
 and fled without shame, for this was no 
 such bear as had ever before come within 
 his range of imagination. But, rinding escape 
 impossible, he was going to show this 
 monster his mettle. Sinking his foreclaws 
 deep into his assailant's neck, he arched his 
 long, flexible back like a strung bow, and 
 raked her flank and belly with the terrible, 
 eviscerating weapons of his hinder paws. 
 
 Breaking for the first time the silence of 
 her avenging rage, the bear gave vent to a 
 loud wah-ah of pain and consternation. 
 Such a hideous method of fighting was new 
 to her. Savagely she strove to pluck the 
 spotted beast off, that she might hold him 
 at arm's length and smash him. But he 
 clung like blazing oil. Finding it impossible 
 to fling him off, she changed her tactics, 
 and hugged him to her chest with her tre- 
 mendous forearms. For a moment or two 
 his tense muscles withstood the terrific 
 pressure, while he continued to rip her 
 with his hind claws. Then, with a gasping 
 screech, he collapsed. Those inexorable arms 
 crushed, constricted, annihilated, till the 
 last breath went out of his lungs, the last 
 pulse of life from his heart, and his lank 
 
THE SPOTTED STRANGER 341 
 
 hindquarters trailed from that embrace limp 
 as a dead rabbit's. 
 
 As she felt the straining body relax in her 
 grip, and the round, flat head fell back with 
 eyes bulging, the bear tore out the exposed 
 throat with her teeth as if to make quite sure 
 of her victory. Then, letting the body drop, 
 she fell on all fours and sniffed and whim- 
 pered over the form of her dead little one. 
 Speedily satisfying herself that it was indeed 
 quite dead, she dragged herself away with her 
 shocking wounds to the gloom of some deep 
 thicket, there in solitude to die or to recover 
 as the fates of the wilderness might decree. 
 
 The brilliant skin of the dead leopard, 
 spotted with black and splashed thick with 
 crimson, lying there exposed beside the black 
 body of the cub, caught the eye of a white- 
 headed eagle soaring high above the bare 
 granite peak. In wide spirals, on all but 
 motionless wings, he sank lower and lower, 
 till at length he passed close above the bodies, 
 peering down at them with outstretched snowy 
 neck and hard, glassy, black-and-golden eyes. 
 But he did not care to alight, for the spotted 
 stranger looked dangerous to him even in 
 death. Presently he winged away again 
 
4- 
 
 CrrTED STRANGER 
 
 : - - -.-. Si- :: --- -: 
 
The Feud 
 
 THE dog was a handsome, heavily-built 
 nondescript, a mongrel, but a mongrel 
 of distinguished blends. Muzzle and ears 
 and the aristocratic dome of the skull showed 
 the large strain of hound in his ancestry. 
 The wavy, red-gold coat and feathering 
 of tail and legs told of the Irish setter in his 
 line, while the bowed and shortened legs, 
 the massiveness of chest and shoulder, were 
 eloquent of the incongruous dash of bull. 
 With such warring elements in his blood, 
 his temper, as may be imagined, was none 
 too certain; but his intelligence kept him 
 from letting it get him into serious trouble, 
 while his fidelity and courage, as well as 
 his striking appearance, led the farmer 
 who owned him to set great store by him. 
 As a watch-dog he was the terror of the 
 tramps, who, after vain efforts to cajole him 
 into complaisance or lure him with poisoned 
 
 343 
 
344 THE FEUD 
 
 tit-bits, came to give his neighbourhood a wide 
 berth. 
 
 But in spite of his duties as a watch-dog, 
 he was by no means always to be found at 
 his post. The farmer had taken no pains to 
 train him to stay at home. He had been 
 brought up quite as casually as he had been 
 bred, and, being an independent backwoods 
 dog, he had no idea at all that his duties 
 required him to be always lounging about 
 the farmyard. Moreover, the strain of Irish 
 setter in his veins made him restless and 
 curious. He was given to ranging the open, 
 hillocky, upland pastures where the surly 
 woodchucks had their holes, or exploring the 
 deep woods down the valley in search of 
 adventure. He was capable of making an 
 adventure out of very insignificant material 
 a mouse-hole under a root would often suffice 
 to keep him digging frantically for an hour, 
 as if convinced that something wonderful 
 and new lay hidden at the bottom. But his 
 real desire was an adversary that would give 
 him a good fight something to satisfy the 
 vague but fiery craving in his great jaws and 
 mighty muscles and emulously pugnacious 
 heart. 
 
THE FEUD 345 
 
 Driven by this desire, he would follow up 
 the trails of bear and lynx with hopeful and 
 misguided enthusiasm; but, happily for him, 
 the bears and the ripping-clawed Canada 
 lynxes scrupulously kept out of his way. A 
 bear would have made short work of him; 
 and as for the lynx, though he might have 
 come off victorious in the battle, he would 
 have been so ripped by the great cat's 
 eviscerating claws that he would probably 
 have bled to death on the triumphal journey 
 home. But both bears and lynxes eyed him 
 with too much suspicion to think of risking 
 an encounter with him. They had seen him 
 in the company of the farmer and the farmer's 
 gun. Therefore they were always sure that, 
 whenever they saw him alone, the farmer and 
 the farmer's gun must be lurking somewhere 
 in the neighbourhood, ready to pounce out 
 upon them if ever they should be so rash as 
 to attack him. 
 
 Of course, both in the woods and in the 
 upland pastures there were other adversaries 
 on whom the dog might have vented his 
 longing for a fight. There were the porcu- 
 pines, and there were the skunks. But the 
 dog knew too much to want to get himself 
 
346 THE FEUD 
 
 stuck full of quills like a pin-cushion full of 
 pins, and his nostrils were too sensitive for 
 him to tolerate the idea of coming to close 
 quarters with a skunk. So, when he en- 
 countered either of these indolent and 
 arrogant little prowlers, he gave them the 
 path without shame, and took every care not 
 to ruffle their feelings. 
 
 It happened on a certain spring morning, 
 while the green of the birches was still tender 
 and diaphanous, that the vain pursuit of a 
 rabbit led him much further over the uplands 
 than he had been wont to range. He lost 
 the trail at last, turned aside in ill-humour, 
 ran softly over a low, sunny ridge, and came 
 plump among a litter of young foxes playing 
 about their hole. 
 
 Three whisking reddish streaks vanished 
 into the hole. But the fourth cub was 
 yawning, with his eyes closed, at the instant 
 of the dog's arrival, and lost precious seconds. 
 He jumped like a loosed spring, but he was 
 just too late. A pair of inexorable jaws 
 closed upon the ruddy brush of his tail, and 
 held him fast. 
 
 Baby though he was, he was game, and he 
 curled back to snap savagely at his huge 
 
THE FEUD 347 
 
 captor. Another moment, and his neck would 
 have been crushed between the dog's great 
 jaws; but in that same moment the red 
 vixen, his mother, came to his rescue. With 
 a shrill yelp of rage, she hurled herself upon 
 the adversary, and her narrow jaws slashed 
 him deeply in the neck. 
 
 Startled at the swift fury of this attack, 
 the dog dropped his prize and turned with a 
 deep growl upon his fiery little assailant. 
 She tried to evade him, but he was too quick 
 for her, and caught her in his grip, while 
 the released cub crept trembling into the hole. 
 
 The fatal misfortune for the brave little 
 mother was the strain of bull in her 
 antagonist's pedigree. Had he once let go 
 in order to take a new hold or to bite 
 again in some more deadly part, with her 
 incredible quickness and wiriness she would 
 have twisted free and mockingly eluded him. 
 But he never let go. He simply went on 
 biting and chewing deeper, deeper, and ever 
 deeper. The vixen tore and slashed 
 valiantly, till the dog's rich coat was 
 crimsoned with his blood. But as she was 
 gripped, her fine jaws could not reach him 
 in any vital spot, nor could they bite deep 
 
348 THE FEUD 
 
 enough to really divert him. Suddenly her 
 mouth opened wide in a harsh yelp, ending 
 in a gurgle, and her head fell to one side 
 limply. Growling deeply, the victor shook 
 her a little, to make sure she was not 
 shamming. Then dropping her indifferently, 
 he went and sniffed at the hole, and finally 
 trotted away toward home. 
 
 It had not been enough of a fight to get 
 his bull blood thoroughly aroused, but out 
 of it were to follow consequences which he 
 little anticipated. 
 
 Some ten minutes later the father fox 
 came trotting up to his den. At sight of the 
 body of his mate, sprawled limp before the 
 entrance, he stopped and stood rigid, eyes 
 and ears and nostrils wide with startled 
 question. After perhaps half a minute, he 
 stole forward and sniffed the body over 
 minutely. Then he sniffed at the dog's 
 tracks, while the stiff hair rose on his neck. 
 Lastly, he slipped into the hole and assured 
 himself as to the safety of the young ones. 
 Emerging a minute or two later, he returned 
 to the body of his mate, gave it a hasty, 
 compassionate lick, and started off on the 
 trail of the dog. 
 
THE FEUD 349 
 
 n 
 
 THE dog lay just outside the farmyard 
 fence, licking his wounds. They were not 
 deep, the jaws of the brave vixen having had 
 so poor an opportunity of doing themselves 
 justice, but they were smarting cuts and 
 numerous, and the dog was feeling very 
 ill-tempered over them. 
 
 All was quiet about the farmyard, the men 
 being away at work hi the fields, the women- 
 folk busy in the house. Nothing stirred but 
 a few chickens scratching in the straw far 
 at the other side of the yard. Presently 
 the dog, tired of licking his bites, laid his 
 head between his paws and went to sleep. 
 Just as he did so, a large red fox, with a 
 magnificent plumy brush, appeared around 
 the fence corner some forty or fifty feet 
 away, and stood, with one fore-paw uplifted, 
 to eye the dog. 
 
 In the narrowed, gleaming eyes of the 
 new-comer there was a look of cold fury, of 
 a set, considering hate that was not going to 
 balk itself by haste. Yet here, it seemed, 
 
350 THE FEUD 
 
 was the instant opportunity. The dog's 
 head faced the other way, and he was 
 obviously asleep. The avenger glanced all 
 about him carefully, to assure himself that 
 he was in no danger of being taken by sur- 
 prise. Then he crept forward, noiseless as 
 thistle-down, on his light and tufted pads. 
 
 The avenger was no rash hot-head, ready 
 to sacrifice himself in the uncertain hope of 
 achieving his vengeance. It was his foe 
 alone that he would punish, not himself and 
 the motherless whelps in his den on the 
 uplands. He knew that in a fight he was no 
 match for the dog, who was more than thrice 
 his weight and of fighting breed. Moreover, 
 he understood the dog's method of fighting 
 that implacable grip that would never let go 
 while life lasted. He had no intention of 
 letting that grip once close upon him. His 
 trust for the vengeance which he was set 
 upon lay in his ingenuity, his keen and far- 
 seeing craft. He did not underrate the 
 dog's intelligence, but he was confident in 
 pitting his own against it. 
 
 Within a couple of yards of the dog's 
 hindquarters he paused, gathered his legs 
 beneath him, and then pounced forward like 
 
THE FEUD 351 
 
 lightning. His hope was to hamstring his 
 enemy by one lucky slash of his keen jaws. 
 But in the very instant of his leap, the dog 
 moved perhaps warned by some subtle 
 admonition to ear or nostril and the 
 assailant's teeth merely ripped a red gash 
 down over his haunch. With a startled 
 snarl, he whipped about to grapple with this 
 unlooked-for assailant. But the fox had 
 leaped back as lightly as he had come, and 
 was now a dozen feet away, staring at him 
 with baleful eyes of challenge. 
 
 With a deep growl, the dog gave chase. 
 And the fox fled away before him, not 
 towards the den in the uplands, but straight 
 back towards the forest. 
 
 For his weight and build, the dog ran well 
 enough, having sound wind and tireless 
 muscles. But his light and wiry adversary 
 could have left him out of sight in five 
 minutes. This, however, was no part of the 
 fox's plan. With consummate craft, he ran 
 heavily, as if it took all his best effort to 
 keep ahead; and the dog, being too angry 
 to see through this play-acting, was en- 
 couraged to imagine himself on the point of 
 catching and punishing the insolent creature 
 
352 THE FEUD 
 
 who had dared to attack him on his own 
 threshold. 
 
 In leading his enemy toward the forest, 
 no doubt the fox had some sinister purpose 
 in view, but in this instance he failed to 
 develop it. As the dog ran on, his anger 
 gradually cooled down. As he found himself, 
 after fifteen minutes or so of very tiresome 
 effort, apparently no nearer to overtaking 
 the brush-tailed fugitive, he remembered 
 things he wanted to do at home. There 
 was a bone to dig up, and another one to 
 bury. After all, he had, as yet, no deep 
 grudge against this fox, whom it had not 
 occurred to him to associate with that 
 hurried little affair at the burrow on the 
 uplands. 
 
 As for a bite, that was no indelible insult. 
 His pace slackened. The fugitive tried to 
 feign lameness, but it had no effect. All at 
 once the dog stopped short, smelled carefully 
 at a bush, as if finding some delightfully 
 interesting scent upon it, then turned his 
 back and coolly trotted off homewards. The 
 fox stared at him irresolutely for a few 
 moments, and then, apparently deciding to 
 postpone his vengeance or think out a more 
 
THE FEUD 353 
 
 effective plan for it, took his own way, along 
 the skirts of the wood, to his den in the 
 uplands. 
 
 Having the whole care of the motherless 
 litter on his shoulders, in spite of the burning 
 urgency of his hate the fox had no time, 
 during the next few days, to journey to the 
 farm and seek the dog again. At last, the 
 youngsters having been removed to another 
 and more secluded burrow, and left with a 
 whole rabbit to tear at in his absence, he 
 went, late one night, to find his adversary. 
 He found everything quiet at the farm, 
 asleep under the soft spring moonlight; but 
 the dog was absent, probably chasing rabbits 
 in the pasture fields. With bitter contempt, 
 the fox defiled his enemy's kennel and his 
 food-dish, together with several buried bones 
 which he dug up and scattered. Then, 
 leaving the hen-roost and the duck-pen 
 untouched, lest he should draw down upon 
 himself the dangerous attention of the 
 farmer, he trotted away, confident that his 
 enemy would understand the enormity of 
 the insults thus heaped upon him. 
 
 In this confidence he was not astray. The 
 dog, returning tired and dew-drenched in 
 
 2 A 
 
354 THE FEUD 
 
 the grey of the dawn, flew into a paroxysm 
 of rage. His keen scent told him that his 
 insulter was the same hardy animal who had 
 so recently attacked him on his threshold, 
 and then led him so futile a chase. And he 
 began to realize that there was some more 
 than ordinary grudge behind these virulent 
 demonstrations. His anger burned itself 
 down to a steady, dangerous glow; and, 
 after sniffing out all his enemy's performances 
 till the situation was pretty clear to him, 
 he picked up the trail and started resolutely 
 in pursuit. The feud was now fairly and 
 reciprocally on, and he was no longer in a 
 temper to be diverted from his purpose. 
 He, too, was set on vengeance. 
 
 In the immediate neighbourhood of the 
 farmstead the fox's trail was nearly an 
 hour old, but before long it grew fresher. 
 Hoping to be followed, the fox had lingered 
 by the way, catching a few belated mice, and 
 beetles yet torpid with the morning chill, 
 and a brooding ground-sparrow asleep upon 
 her eggs. At last, looking back from the 
 top of a little knoll, he saw his pursuer 
 labouring doggedly along his trail. He 
 waited motionless till the dog caught sight 
 
THE FEUD 3SS 
 
 of him and gave tongue savagely. Then he 
 ran on, keeping a lead of less than a hundred 
 feet. 
 
 At first, it looked as if the crafty fugitive's 
 object was merely to wear out his heavy 
 pursuer, and so dimmish the odds of weight 
 and muscle against him. For well over an 
 hour he led the chase hither and thither 
 over the roughest and most difficult ground, 
 where his lightness and his knowledge of the 
 faint trails enabled him to spare himself to 
 the utmost. But he seemed at the point of 
 exhaustion; he looked as if he were being 
 slowly but surely overtaken. His pursuer, 
 panting heavily, and with streaming tongue 
 far out, was hardly more than a dozen yards 
 behind. 
 
 At length the fugitive, as if pressed beyond 
 endurance and about to seek retreat in some 
 hole in the rocks, turned and ran straight, 
 in what seemed to be a last, frantic burst of 
 speed, up a naked slope, the crest of a little 
 rocky ridge. Reaching the crest, he vanished 
 over it without a pause. The dog came 
 racing up, but instead of following on over, 
 as the fox had evidently expected him to do, 
 he checked himself abruptly before reaching 
 
356 THE FEUD 
 
 the brink, and went and peered down with 
 a prudence which showed that he was not so 
 easily to be entrapped. 
 
 The other side of the ridge was a perpen- 
 dicular drop of some forty or fifty feet into 
 a raging torrent. 
 
 Had he not stopped himself when he 
 did, he would have inevitably plunged over 
 headlong, and the affair would have been 
 settled conclusively. But, fortunately for 
 him, he knew the place. It did not occur 
 to him, even, that his enemy could have 
 expected him to fall over. He merely thought 
 that the fox had a hiding-place in the 
 crevices under the brink, and what concerned 
 him was to find that hiding-place. 
 
 Presently he made out the merest shadow 
 of a ledge descending for a few feet and 
 vanishing under a jutting overhang. The 
 scent of the fugitive was strong on this 
 slender and perilous track. Only a creature 
 of marvellous sure-footedness and lightness 
 could have taken it securely. For the dog 
 it was utterly impossible. He sniffed at it 
 with disgust, and then, realizing that the 
 brink itself was showing a tendency to crumble 
 under his weight, he drew back, sat down 
 
THE FEUD 357 
 
 on his haunches, lifted his muzzle toward 
 the sky, and howled his wrathful discomfiture. 
 In the middle of this outburst he chanced 
 to turn his head. There, on the very edge 
 of the steep, not twenty paces distant, sat 
 the fox, eyeing him from narrowed lids, 
 inscrutably. 
 
 The dog felt all at once that he was being 
 mocked. It was a new and humiliating 
 experience to him. Almost blind with rage, 
 he darted once more in pursuit. 
 
 This time the fox ran off in a new direction, 
 up a long, broken slope traversed by bare 
 ledges. The chase led at length through a 
 shallow cleft, which narrowed gradually till 
 the rocks met overhead, forming a flat 
 arched tunnel perhaps a foot and a half in 
 height. Here, along the dry fissures, pro- 
 tected alike from the rain and from the 
 attacks of the honey-loving bears, a runaway 
 swarm of bees had established itself and 
 multiplied to an enormous colony. At this 
 hour of the morning the bees were just 
 beginning to stir themsleves and get ready 
 for the day's work in the sun, gathering the 
 perfumed spring pollen. 
 
 The fox knew well this perilous passage, 
 
358 THE FEUD 
 
 having surveyed it shrewdly from the sides, 
 though, of course, he had never ventured to 
 pass through it. Now he lingered, as if 
 cornered, till the dog was within a dozen 
 yards of him. Then, putting on a tremendous 
 burst of speed, he dashed through the tunnel, 
 elongating himself till he was flat to earth, 
 but managing to flick the swarming combs 
 with his brush as he sped beneath them. 
 With no worse punishment than two or three 
 stings and a few bees clinging in his fur, he 
 passed safely through, and dashed into a 
 dense mass of bushes to scrape off his 
 assailants. But he left the bees thoroughly 
 aroused, and buzzing with anger. 
 
 Into this scorching vortex of live flame 
 the dog plunged blindly. In a second he 
 realized the situation. Yelping with the 
 sudden torture, he backed out, covered with 
 bees from head to foot, and went leaping 
 convulsively down the slope, the air black 
 and humming behind him. 
 
 By sheer good luck for he did not see at 
 all where he was going he crashed through 
 a fringe of scrub and fell into a deep, icy 
 pool. The relief was instantaneous, and the 
 shock brought back his wits. The bees 
 
THE FEUD 359 
 
 which clung to him were drowned out, 
 washed off, and chilled to instant harmless- 
 ness. When he came to the surface, certain 
 members of the following hosts pounced 
 down at him, but, for the most part, the 
 furious insects could not make out how he 
 had vanished. They hung humming over 
 the bushes and over the pool, but they 
 seemed apprehensive about descending too 
 close to the sunken surface of the water, 
 repelled, no doubt, by the darkness and the 
 chill. The dog thrust his head under a 
 thick tuft of wet weeds, where it was well 
 protected, and waited there for the insects to 
 get tired of looking for him. By the time 
 this arrived, he was half dead with cold; but, 
 dragging himself out cautiously and slinking 
 away under the thickets, he gained a place 
 where he could lie and warm himself in the 
 sun. Then, with eyes and nostrils swollen 
 and burning, and his whole hide smarting 
 with the poison that had been pumped into 
 it in that awful half minute, he made his 
 way dejectedly homeward. 
 
 Now, though the dog was very far from 
 guessing that his astute antagonist had 
 deliberately led him into the citadel of the 
 
360 THE FEUD 
 
 bees, his rage, nevertheless, burned with 
 sevenfold heat because of that agonizing 
 discomfiture. The next time the fox came 
 to the farm to taunt him, he took up the 
 pursuit with such a fiery vigour that the 
 fugitive was for a while somewhat put to it 
 to keep ahead. This time the chase led 
 away in quite another direction, down the 
 valley towards the dark tamarack swamps 
 which the dog had never been tempted to 
 explore. 
 
 There was now no playing on the part of 
 the fox. Disappointed in his former schemes 
 for vengeance, and almost daunted at last 
 by the deadly pertinacity of his foe, he was 
 beginning to grow uneasy, and to want the 
 affair off his shoulders. While the dog's 
 rage was growing daily, his own craving for 
 vengeance was beginning to cool as his grief 
 for his slain mate moderated. Life was full 
 of interest, and he wanted to think of other 
 things than this feud. He was none the less 
 resolved, however, that his enemy should be 
 punished. So to-day he ran straight to his 
 purpose, with the grim pursuer close on his 
 heels. 
 
 In a secret place in the swamp, some 
 
THE FEUD 361 
 
 twenty-four hours earlier, a bear cub had 
 been born. The place was hard to come at, 
 over narrow causeways of twisted roots and 
 fallen, slippery trunks, but, when reached, it 
 was little more than a shallow recess under a 
 boulder, with a big cedar slanting in front 
 of it. The mother bear lay here on a bed of 
 dry moss, nursing her baby, and from time 
 to time glaring jealously about the sombre 
 shades as if she expected something to come 
 and try to snatch the little one from her 
 embrace. 
 
 At the moment when the fox appeared^ 
 running noiselessly, the bear was not looking. 
 Her great black head was bent down while 
 she licked and snuggled the cub. A ruddy 
 shape touched the moss close beside her, and 
 was gone even before she could lift her head, 
 leaving a taint on the heavy air. In a blaze 
 of anger and alarm, she thrust the whimpering 
 little one behind her and sat up on her 
 haunches just as the dog, with a startled yelp, 
 brought up sharply within two feet of her. 
 He had barely saved himself from jumping 
 square on top of her. 
 
 With all his courage and his craving for a 
 fight, the dog had no wish to tackle a mother 
 
362 THE FEUD 
 
 bear suckling her cub. He sprang aside, 
 striving to retreat the way he came. But 
 the bear, hurling her massive bulk forward 
 with amazing agility, had instantly cut off 
 that retreat. Doubling on himself, he leaped 
 for another prostrate trunk which offered a 
 way over the ooze-pit. He gained it, but 
 it was slippery with ancient slime, and 
 he missed his foothold, his hindquarters 
 dropping back into the black mud. Shrinking 
 small and hunching his back desperately, he 
 clawed at the hard trunk and strove to draw 
 himself clear of the impending doom. But 
 even as he strove, with open mouth and 
 protruding tongue and frightened, staring 
 eyes, a great black paw descended upon 
 him, smashing his back. The bull blood in 
 him, asserting itself at this supreme moment, 
 forbade him to cry out, and, writhing himself 
 about, he locked his jaws upon that shattering 
 paw. The next second he was twitched 
 forth upon the moss, and crushed out of all 
 resemblance to a dog. And as the bear, in 
 her mother rage, mauled and tore the lifeless 
 body, the fox, sitting on his haunches some 
 forty feet away, looked on and licked his 
 chaps, content at last with his vengeance. 
 
Red Dandy and MacTavish 
 
 first of the dawn lay pink and dewy 
 JL chill along the naked, tilted crest of 
 the Ridge, Slowly it crept down the scarred 
 rocks, washed softly over the tangled thickets, 
 and at last shot its thin, aerial rays of light 
 and colour down the glades and under the 
 branches of the ash, chestnut, and maples, 
 just filming with their earliest spring green. 
 Into a deep little hollow last it came a 
 hollow carpeted with dry twigs, half choked 
 with vine and bramble, and overhung by the 
 branches of two enormous chestnuts. It was 
 so secret a hollow that the long, pink fingers 
 of light felt their way in with difficulty, and 
 seemed to grope for a while before finding 
 anything to reveal. At last, however, they 
 did find something, and immediately, as if 
 pleased at the discovery, they lit up the 
 hollow with a sudden flush of pale rose- 
 amber. 
 
 363 
 
364 RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 
 
 What the delicate light revealed was a 
 young fawn, whose immense, mild, liquid 
 eyes met it wonderingly. Curled up under 
 a bush, his red-tawny coat, mottled with 
 cream yellow, made him, as a rule, almost 
 indistinguishable from his bed of mottled 
 brown leaves. But that peculiar, crystalline 
 yet tinted light of earliest dawn made him 
 suddenly conspicuous. After a moment or 
 two of wonder, he seemed to become aware 
 that he was no longer invisible. He dropped 
 his baby head between his hooves, and 
 appeared to shrink into a guarded immobility. 
 It was almost as if by sheer unconscious 
 volition his colours became less bright, and 
 he began to fade, through mere stillness, 
 back into his surroundings. 
 
 But that instant's motion, the lowering of 
 his head, had been enough to make trouble. 
 It had caught the attention of a pair of 
 vigilant and cruel eyes at the upper edge 
 of the hollow. A prowling, shadowy-grey 
 shape, as noiseless as the motion of the dawn 
 itself, crouched suddenly flat to earth and 
 glared down with terrible intentness at the 
 ruddy, mottled little form beneath the bush. 
 A second shadowy shape, with similar pale, 
 
RED DANDY AND M A cTAVISH 365 
 
 piercing, moon-like eyes, stole up and crouched 
 beside the first. 
 
 They were sinister-looking beasts, the two 
 lynxes, each nearly forty pounds in weight, 
 with immense, panther-like paws, and muscles 
 like steel moving swiftly under their loose, 
 long fur. Their hindquarters were of 
 exaggerated size and power as compared 
 with the forequarters, and their hind legs 
 were gathered under them, ready for an 
 instant spring, in such a fashion as to 
 suggest some monstrous and predatory hare. 
 Their tails were mere thick stubs, apparently 
 quite futile as far as concerned all customary 
 uses of a tail. Their round, malign faces 
 were fiercely whiskered, surrounded by a sort 
 of ruff of long fur curling forward from 
 beneath the jaws, and their ears were tipped 
 with long, stiff tufts. In colour they were 
 of a light grey, powdered vaguely with a 
 pale yellow-brown a colouring which made 
 them all but invisible in the shadowed woods, 
 except for the startling brilliancy of their 
 wide pale eyes. 
 
 Both lynxes stared unwinkingly for a few 
 long seconds at the unconscious fawn, whose 
 mild eyes were turned in another direction, 
 
366 RED DANDY AND M A cTAVISH 
 
 watching anxiously for his mother's return. 
 All at once, though not a sound, a whisper, 
 had come to his ears, some subtle warning 
 thrilled his baby nerves, and he turned his 
 head to glance behind him. 
 
 Two dim, grey things, with dreadful eyes 
 fixed upon his, were creeping down into the 
 hollow. 
 
 The fawn was not many hours old. He 
 had so far learned nothing, either of lynxes 
 or of death. But he needed no learning to 
 know that those two dim shapes meant 
 doom. Opening wide his narrow muzzle, he 
 cried out for his mother a strange, strident 
 cry, half bleat, half yelp, but quite un- 
 mistakable in its terror and its appeal. 
 
 The cry was answered instantly by a clear 
 belling from close at hand, and almost in 
 the next second the mother doe arrived, 
 coming in one tremendous leap clean over 
 the nearest bushes. It was not by any means 
 her customary way of coming home. On 
 other occasions she would drift in silently, 
 not so much as snapping a twig. But when 
 danger threatened her little one, she threw 
 prudence to the breezes and came by the 
 shortest road. 
 
RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 367 
 
 With a soft little murmur of reassurance, 
 the red mother nosed her fawn, sniffing it 
 all over as if to ask what ailed it. It was 
 shivering, and after a few moments she 
 looked up, glancing about to see what had 
 so frightened it. 
 
 At the sudden, vehement appearance of 
 the doe, both lynxes had stopped abruptly, 
 crouching in readiness for whatever might 
 take place. When they saw the mother's 
 head bent low, and all her attention absorbed 
 in the little one, they again stole forward. 
 But now they separated, one creeping to the 
 right, the other to the left. They knew that 
 a mother deer, in the protection of her young, 
 was an antagonist too formidable for one 
 lynx alone to engage; but, by attacking her 
 on both flanks at once, they trusted to confuse 
 her, and so avoid the lightning strokes of her 
 dangerous, knife-edged hooves. 
 
 When the doe lifted her head to look 
 around, she saw the implacable eyes of the 
 male lynx, not fifteen feet away, just gather- 
 ing himself for the spring. Experienced in 
 battle, she did not wait for that deadly 
 pounce, but, with a shrill snort of defiance, 
 she leaped to meet it, prancing forward with 
 
368 RED DANDY AND M A cTAVISH 
 
 indescribable lightness, her polished, pointed 
 hooves, hard as steel, striking out savagely 
 before her. 
 
 With a snarl, the lynx jumped backwards, 
 not daring to face the strokes. Instinctively 
 the doe glanced behind her, to see that the 
 little one was still safe. The she lynx was 
 in the very motion of springing upon her. 
 She was not in time to evade the spring, but 
 she was in time to meet it ineffectually with 
 one short, cutting stroke. Such a stroke 
 could not stop the great cat's pounce, already 
 launched, but it ripped a long red gash 
 down the grey flank, and so diverted the 
 attack that the assailant's claws were sunk 
 into the shoulders of their prey, instead of 
 into the throat. 
 
 With a sharp belling, the doe leaped into 
 the air, striving to shake her assailant off. 
 Finding this effort vain, she darted under a 
 branch, hoping to scrape the fatal rider from 
 her place. In this she was successful; but 
 before she could turn and defend herself 
 again, the male lynx had her by the throat, 
 strangling her. The next moment the female 
 was again upon her shoulders, tearing at her 
 neck and ripping her flank with those eviscer- 
 
RED DANDY AND M A cTAVISH 369 
 
 ating hinder claws. She belled chokingly, 
 and struggled with desperate, plunging leaps. 
 But in a couple of minutes the lynxes had 
 borne her down, and in a few seconds more 
 her life-blood was flooding forth scarlet and 
 hot upon the withered leaves. 
 
 II 
 
 MACTAVISH sat on the very peak of the 
 Ridge, and stared with calm eyes into the 
 spreading miracle of the dawn. In the 
 crook of his left arm rested his handy .303, 
 its blued barrel gleaming in the clean, thin 
 radiance. His big right hand fingered his 
 red beard complacently. That sunrise seemed 
 to him just as it should be. The faint 
 rose tints, the amber, the gold, of a trans- 
 parency altogether inexplicable and almost 
 unbelievable, played along his rugged but 
 fine-strung nerves like the long, slow notes 
 of a fiddle beside a still water under a mid- 
 summer moon. 
 
 Scotch, Welsh, and English in his veins, 
 MacTavish was a mixture more or less 
 enigmatic even to himself. He shrank from 
 
370 RED DANDY AND M AC TAVISH 
 
 hurting anything, yet he was a keen hunter, 
 and he loved a good fight. On his way from 
 his cabin in to the Settlement, twenty miles 
 away across the valley, he had started up the 
 western slope a half-hour earlier than was 
 necessary quite in the dark, in fact just in 
 order to see the first of the sunrise from the 
 crest of the Ridge, its celestial flood breaking 
 over the wide valley below him. But he 
 would not acknowledge to himself that this 
 was his reason for coming up so early. He 
 had several other reasons ready, but he knew 
 in his heart that they had no weight at all. 
 They only served to veil to himself this guilty 
 passion of his for sunrises and sunsets, and 
 other beautiful but practically useless affairs. 
 
 Never, thought MacTavish, tugging at his 
 red beard with slow intensity of enjoyment, 
 had he seen that great view from the Ridge 
 more entrancing, never a sunrise that was 
 more perfect in its sorcery. He hardly dared 
 to breathe, lest it should change in a flash to 
 some other and less lovely combination of 
 tones. The stillness was almost terrible in 
 its perfection as it were of an infinite bubble 
 blown to its utmost limit and colouring by 
 a miracle. 
 
RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 371 
 
 And then it broke. From the hollow 
 below came a medley of furious sounds 
 snarls, cries, strugglings the unmistakable 
 utterance of a life-and-death encounter. The 
 mystic light upon the rocks, the thickets, the 
 greening trees, suddenly changed, became 
 more familiar, more ordinary, something 
 almost in the line of the day's routine return. 
 MacTavish drew a long breath, as of one 
 released from a strong spell. He snatched up 
 his rifle, and darted swiftly but quietly down 
 the slope to the bushy hollow where the 
 sounds seemed to come from. 
 
 The faithful mother had ceased struggling, 
 and the lynxes, not yet quite assured of their 
 victory, were both tearing ferociously at her 
 throat when MacTavish appeared. With 
 harsh snarls enraged beyond all discretion 
 at this interference in the hour of victory 
 they turned and confronted him, as if almost 
 minded to try conclusions with him. Up 
 went MacTavish's handy gun, and the male 
 lynx sprang straight into the air, with all four 
 legs stretched rigid, to fall back, relaxed 
 and sprawling, across the neck of his victim. 
 Before he was fairly down, the female was 
 gone simply vanishing, as if the report of 
 
372 RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 
 
 the rifle had blown her away. MacTavish 
 saw no more of her than an instant's drift of 
 grey between one thicket and another. 
 
 MacTavish picked up his trophy, appraised 
 it with skilled eye as a good pelt, then flung 
 it down carelessly, a little chagrined at not 
 having been quick enough to secure both the 
 grey marauders. He examined the doe to 
 make sure she was quite dead, produced a 
 few yards of stout cord from his capacious 
 pocket, and strung the body up by the hind 
 legs to a branch overhead, out of the way of 
 the foxes. Then he turned to the fawn. 
 
 The little animal had been watching, from 
 its place, with immense blank eyes of stupe- 
 faction. So many sudden horrors had left 
 it numb in its utter incomprehension. When 
 MacTavish gently went up to it, holding out 
 his hand, it hardly even shrank away. But 
 when he indiscreetly laid his hand upon its 
 muzzle, the dreaded man-smell shocked it, 
 and it struggled to its feet, repeating that 
 strident and piteous cry of appeal to the 
 mother who was now so deaf to it. Feebly 
 it strove to get away. But MacTavish had 
 it fast. He held it firmly, but he stroked it 
 gently, rubbing its back and its neck. And 
 
RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 373 
 
 presently, puzzled, but in part reassured by 
 the smell of its mother, which blended so 
 curiously with the man-smell on MacTavish's 
 clothes, it stopped its strange cries and lay 
 still in the hunter's arms, looking at him 
 with eyes of anxious inquiry. 
 
 "Poor wee beastie!" murmured Mac- 
 Tavish, holding it as tenderly as if it had 
 been a human baby. And then, remembering 
 his beloved Burns: "'Wee sleekit, cowering 
 timorous beastie!" 
 
 For a few moments he stood hesitating. 
 He had set out to pay a visit to the Settle- 
 ment, and he was not one to lightly change 
 his plans. But the needs of the little animal 
 were a peremptory demand on his under- 
 standing heart. Another day would do for 
 the trip to the Settlement. He slung the 
 dead lynx over his shoulder, settled the fawn 
 more or less comfortably in his left arm, and 
 started back for his cabin, on the other side 
 of the Ridge. 
 
 Ill 
 
 IN MacTavish's snug cabin, tended and 
 petted, the fawn speedily forgot the horrors 
 which had surrounded its first appearance 
 
374 RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 
 
 on the stage of life. It learned at once to 
 drink warm cow's milk, and a little later to 
 browse, not only on the grass of MacTavish's 
 pasture-clearing, but also on the choicest 
 vegetable products of his little garden. 
 MacTavish spoiled it shockingly, but it 
 rewarded him with a dog-like devotion that 
 might almost at times have seemed a 
 nuisance. It was for ever at his heels, and 
 as it seemed constitutionally incapable of 
 learning obedience, whenever he did not 
 wish to be followed he had to shut it up 
 securely in the barn, and turn a deaf ear to 
 its terrible penetrating appeals. 
 
 In course of months the little one's coat 
 lost its creamy spots and became all a rich, 
 tawny red, shading to pale buff on the under- 
 parts, and he grew up into a particularly 
 handsome and high-stepping young buck. 
 It was then that his name was changed 
 from "Beastie" to "Red Dandy." Gradually 
 now he got to be on fair terms, not friendly, 
 but condescendingly tolerant terms, with the 
 black-and-white cow, the yearling calf, and 
 the two big, sleepy, carrot-coloured oxen 
 who did MacTavish's ploughing and haul- 
 ing. When his first horns began to sprout, 
 
RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 375 
 
 he gradually established an uncontested 
 supremacy over all these easy-going folk of 
 the farmyard. In spite of his slimness and 
 his small stature, he had them at a complete 
 disadvantage, for he could always prod them 
 where he liked, or buffet them cruelly with 
 his fore-hooves, and then evade their resent- 
 ment with scornful ease. So, to save them- 
 selves trouble, they gave way to his tyranny 
 until it became a habit with them. This 
 domination, no doubt, was rendered easier 
 for him to secure by reason of the terms of 
 favour on which he lived with MacTavish. 
 Spending half his time in the cabin, trotting 
 at MacTavish's heels, or at his side with 
 MacTavish 's arm over his back, the other 
 animals easily came to regard him as sharing 
 some small measure of MacTavish's authority. 
 It was perhaps a fortunate thing for all 
 concerned that there was no dog or cat about 
 the place to divide MacTavish's affections, 
 for Red Dandy was as jealous as a Spanish 
 gipsy. 
 
 Red Dandy, as he developed into a full- 
 sized, high-antlered buck, developed also 
 two antipathies towards the pig and 
 towards all snakes. For the first there was 
 
376 RED DANDY AND M A cTAVISH 
 
 no apparent reason, and, whenever he was 
 caught manifesting it, he got a sharp horse- 
 whipping from MacTavish, which would send 
 him off snorting to sulk for perhaps ten 
 minutes behind the barn. He used to stand 
 beside the pen and thrust at the unoffending 
 grunter through the cracks. To avoid 
 accidents, MacTavish ran the walls of the 
 sty to a discouraging height, and nailed up 
 the cracks between the boards. 
 
 When this was done, Red Dandy appeared 
 to forget the existence of pigs. But for 
 snakes he was always hunting, stealing up 
 sunny hillocks in the effort to surprise 
 them basking, or beating the coverts of 
 " snake-brake " with his antlers to frighten 
 them forth into the open, where he might 
 trample them with his sharp and nimble 
 hooves. In this antipathy he had his 
 master's heartfelt co-operation, for, to Mac- 
 Tavish's somewhat childlike eyes, all snakes, 
 the bright, harmless little garter-snakes no 
 less than the deadly moccasin or copper- 
 head, were children of the devil. This 
 seemed to be exactly the point of view of 
 Red Dandy as well. He would pursue a 
 tiny, innocent, pale-green grass-snake, eight or 
 
RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 377 
 
 ten inches long, with the same gay, danc- 
 ing fury that he devoted to the destruction 
 of a six-foot black-snake or blue-racer. But 
 when it came to either an adder or a copper- 
 head, then he was as cool and wary as a 
 trained fencer. He knew who shall say 
 how, since MacTavish never taught him ? 
 very well the difference between the snakes 
 whose bite meant death and those which 
 bore no poison-fangs in their jaws. 
 
 It happened that the southward slopes of 
 the Ridge, being sheltered from all the harsher 
 winds and full of sun-steeped ledges, were a 
 favourite haunt of the copper-head, which 
 nowhere else managed to maintain itself so 
 far north. From time to time, when some 
 one was bitten, there would be a move among 
 the scattered settlers in both valleys toward a 
 concerted campaign for the extermination of 
 the virulent pests. But, for the most part, 
 the copper-heads kept to the out-of-the-way 
 ledges and inaccessible ravines, and so avoided 
 making themselves conspicuous. They did not 
 court notoriety, and therefore they were apt 
 to be forgotten. 
 
 MacTavish, as a rule, never thought of 
 them. But he thought of them abruptly on 
 
378 RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 
 
 the morning when the rocky lip where he 
 was standing to drink in the view suddenly 
 scaled off beneath his weight, and he felt 
 himself falling down the bare, terrific incline. 
 The incline was almost perpendicular, and he 
 fell swiftly, amid a whirl of dusty stones and 
 a bright, hot glow, into the very face of the 
 landscape. He scraped over a narrow ledge, 
 clutched wildly at a bush which grew upon it, 
 and was greeted with a savage hiss which 
 seemed to him just in his ear. His hair 
 rose, and he let go of the bush, and felt for 
 the moment an actual relief in the fact 
 that he kept right on falling. Then his 
 head struck a projecting root, he bounced 
 from a second ledge, lost consciousness, fell 
 more expeditiously, and rolled to the bottom 
 with a broken leg and a pattering company 
 of stones of assorted sizes. 
 
 He knew nothing about it, of course, but 
 those almost too attentive stones were his 
 bodyguard, and for the moment an effective 
 one. Hissing and rattling indignantly, a 
 basking family of copper-heads scattered and 
 scurried away, routed by the shower of stony 
 missiles. In a few seconds the dust settled, 
 and the last of the stones lay still. And so 
 
RED DANDY AND M A cTAVISH 379 
 
 did MacTavish, for he had been well battered 
 in that unceremonious descent, and the knock 
 on his skull had been a shrewd one. 
 
 At the time of MacTavish's fall, Red 
 Dandy had been close behind, nosing with 
 fine velvet muzzle at his master's pocket to 
 see if it held anything for him. He jumped 
 back with a snort at MacTavish's amazing 
 disappearance, and drew off resentfully. He 
 was not accustomed to seeing his master 
 behave with such abruptness, or go away 
 without giving him time to follow. For 
 several minutes he stalked back and forth, 
 with head held very high and a puzzled look 
 in his eyes. Then, beginning to get lonely, 
 he went to the brink of the steep and 
 cautiously peered over. His feet displaced 
 some small stones, which went rattling down 
 and struck MacTavish smartly. The buck 
 expected to see him jump up and get angry 
 at this. But instead of that he lay perfectly 
 still. 
 
 Red Dandy grew troubled. He went close 
 to the edge, pushed a few more stones down 
 upon MacTavish, and seemed to dally for a 
 moment with the notion of trying to slide 
 down after them himself. No doubt he 
 
3 8o RED DANDY AND M AC TAVISH 
 
 would have succeeded in sliding down, but a 
 doubt as to how he would arrive gave him 
 pause. He snorted uneasily, drew back from 
 the brink, stood fretting for a moment or 
 two, and then started along the crest of the 
 Ridge in search of an easier way down. 
 
 When all had been quiet for some time 
 at the foot of the steep, several of the copper- 
 heads, shining with a dull glow in the sun, 
 came gliding warily back towards their 
 basking-place. The patriarch of the tribe, 
 a thick-bodied, beautifully-patterned fellow, 
 nearly six feet long, led the way. He came 
 to within a few feet of the unconscious 
 MacTavish, gave a warning rattle, and coiled 
 himself to strike. His followers withdrew 
 with petulant hissings, cheerfully leaving all 
 the glory to him. 
 
 As MacTavish did not move, the snake 
 did not strike. He waited, the picture of 
 readiness, his flat, opaque eyes fixed on the 
 mysterious object which had arrived so 
 mysteriously among them. He waited for 
 possibly ten minutes. Then, satisfied that 
 the object was not alive, and not dangerous, 
 he uncoiled and started to wriggle away. 
 
 At this moment MacTavish partially 
 
RED DANDY AND M A cTAVISH 381 
 
 came to. He moved an arm. He tried to 
 move his right leg. A groan came from 
 his throat. The great snake recoiled him- 
 self in a flash, and rattled his loud warning 
 like the gentlemanly fighter that he was. 
 
 At that ominous sound, MacTavish came 
 to completely, with all his wits about him. 
 He did not move a muscle, except to open 
 his eyes slowly and peer about him. He did 
 not have to peer about much, for there was 
 the great copper-head straight in front of 
 his face, with head gently swaying, within 
 range and ready to strike. 
 
 MacTavish thought hard. He knew that 
 his enemy would not strike so long as he 
 kept perfectly still. But he knew also that 
 the snake now knew he was alive, and there- 
 fore might wait rather indefinitely. How 
 long would he be able to keep still? His 
 broken leg was beginning to torture him 
 savagely. Other snakes would presently 
 come out of their hidings. How would he 
 ever be able to drag himself away without 
 bringing them upon him. The cold sweat 
 jumped out all over his body. Then he 
 felt his head swim again, and his wits again 
 beginning to slip away. In an icy terror, he 
 
382 RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 
 
 clutched them back to their duty, horrified 
 lest he should move in his unconsciousness. 
 But, weak as he was, he began to contemplate 
 futile schemes, such as clutching up a hand- 
 ful of stones and pelting the enemy away, 
 though he knew very well that the enemy 
 could strike at least three or four times as 
 fast as he could move his arm. 
 
 The agony and suspense and confusion 
 in his head were beginning to overcome him 
 once more, when he caught a sound of light 
 hooves behind him. He dared not turn his 
 head to look, but he felt who it was, and his 
 brain cleared again. He saw the coiled snake 
 shift his head so as to give another focus 
 to the curve of its swing. 
 
 A moment more, and Red Dandy came 
 mincing into view, dancing that delicate 
 war-dance with which he was wont to 
 challenge the unresponsive pig. He swerved 
 off to one side, drawing the copper-head's 
 attention away from MacTavish. Then he 
 warily presented the tips of his antlers, 
 just within reach. The snake struck like 
 lightning twice, spilling his venom harm- 
 lessly over the impenetrable horn. Teased 
 by that exasperating antler, he struck again 
 
RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 383 
 
 and again, till at last not a drop more venom 
 came. Then, realizing suddenly that his 
 fighting powers were gone till he could 
 secure them time to recuperate, he swiftly 
 uncoiled and darted for shelter. 
 
 But, quick as he was, the buck was too 
 quick for him. A keen-edged hoof, slicing 
 downwards with vindictive force, struck 
 him on the back of the neck just where it 
 ran into the skull. That stroke severed the 
 tough scales and shore the vertebral column 
 clean through. 
 
 The deadly head dropped forward, utterly 
 powerless, but the body, packed with 
 vitality and force, writhed itself up in 
 hideous, lashing coils. With one more 
 stroke, Red Dandy smashed the impotent 
 head. Then he stamped and trampled down 
 the writhing coils, till they were chopped 
 into bits, and his trim fetlocks streamed with 
 blood. Not while there was anything left 
 to writhe, would he give up his performance 
 or accept his victory as complete. 
 
 MacTavish, feeling quite safe now as far 
 as snakes were concerned, let himself go for 
 a little. When he came to again, he felt 
 better, and Red Dandy was standing beside 
 
384 RED DANDY AND MAcTAVISH 
 
 him, sniffing at his face. He fondled the 
 narrow, soft muzzle for a minute or two, 
 expressing his unqualified admiration for his 
 rescuer's courage and craft; and then, setting 
 his teeth grimly, he started on the slow and 
 agonizing crawl down to the nearest farm- 
 stead. 
 
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