There on her
right, and just across a deep ravine where a torrent went leaping down
to the sea in hundred-foot jumps, a great stag caribou was standing,
still as a stone, on a lofty pinnacle, looking down over the marvelous
panorama spread wide beneath his feet. Every day Megaleep came there to
look, and the old wolf in her daily hunts often crossed the deep path
which he had worn through the moss from the wide table-lands over the
ridge to this sightly place where he could look down curiously at the
comings and goings of men on the sea. But at this season when small game
was abundant--and indeed at all seasons when not hunger-driven--the wolf
was peaceable and the caribou were not molested. Indeed the big stag
knew well where the old wolf denned. Every east wind brought her message
to his nostrils; but secure in his own strength and in the general peace
which prevails in the summer-time among all large animals of the north,
he came daily to look down on the harbor and wag his ears at the
fishing-boats, which he could never understand.
Strange neighbors these, the grim, savage mother wolf of the mountains,
hiding her young in dens of the rocks, and the wary, magnificent
wanderer of the broad caribou barrens; but they understood each other,
and neither wolf nor caribou had any fear or hostile intent one for the
other.
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