When October came it brought
the big stags into the open,--splendid, imposing beasts, with swollen
necks and fierce red eyes and long white manes tossing in the wind. Then
the wolves had to stand aside; for the stags roamed over all the land,
pawing the moss in fury, bellowing their hoarse challenge, and charging
like a whirlwind upon every living thing that crossed their paths.
When the mother wolf, with her cubs at heel, saw one of these big furies
at a distance she would circle prudently to avoid him. Again, as the
cubs hunted rabbits, they would hear a crash of brush and a furious
challenge as some quarrelsome stag winded them; and the mother with her
cubs gathered close about her would watch alertly for his headlong rush.
As he charged out the wolves would scatter and leap nimbly aside, then
sit down on their tails in a solemn circle and watch as if studying the
strange beast. Again and again he would rush upon them, only to find
that he was fighting the wind. Mad as a hornet, he would single out a
cub and follow him headlong through brush and brake till some subtle
warning thrilled through his madness, telling him to heed his flank;
then as he whirled he would find the savage old mother close at his
heels, her white fangs bared and a dangerous flash in her eyes as she
saw the hamstring so near, so easy to reach.
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