A rush, a startled _honk!_ a terrific
clamor of wings and throats and smitten water. Then the four shadows
would rise up from the sand and trot back to the woods, each with a
burden on its shoulders and a sparkle in the close-set eyes over the
pointed jaws, which were closed on the neck of a goose, holding it tight
lest any outcry escape to tell the startled flock what had happened.
Besides this abundant game there were other good things to eat, and the
cubs rarely dined of the same dish twice in succession. Salmon and big
sea-trout swarmed now in every shallow of the clear brooks, and, after
spawning, these fish were much weakened and could easily be caught by a
little cunning. Every day and night the tide ebbed and flowed, and every
tide left its contribution in windrows of dead herring and caplin, with
scattered crabs and mussels for a relish, like plums in a pudding. A
wolf had only to trot for a mile or two along the tide line of a lonely
beach, picking up the good things which the sea had brought him, and
then go back to sleep or play satisfied. And if Wayeeses wanted game to
try his mettle and cunning, there were the big fat seals barking on the
black rocks, and he had only to cut between them and the sea and throw
himself upon the largest seal as the herd floundered ponderously back to
safety.
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