The coast was now clear, not an enemy in the way; and the mother
caribou, with a triumphant bleat to her fawns to follow, plunged back
into the woods whence she had come.
One fawn only followed her. The other took a step or two, sank to his
knees, and rolled over on his side. When the wolves drew near quietly,
without a trace of the ferocity or the howling clamor with which such
scenes are usually pictured, the game was quite dead, one quick snap of
the old wolf's teeth just behind the fore legs having pierced the heart
more surely than a hunter's bullet. And the mother caribou, plunging
wildly away through the brush with the startled fawn jumping at her
heels, could not know that her mad flight was needless; that the
terrible enemy which had spared her and let her go free had no need nor
desire to follow.
* * * * *
The fat autumn had now come with its abundant fare, and the caribou were
not again molested. Flocks of grouse and ptarmigan came out of the thick
coverts, in which they had been hiding all summer, and began to pluck
the berries of the open plains, where they could easily be waylaid and
caught by the growing wolf cubs.
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