While the rest lay in hiding the old he-wolf approached warily and
scratched Mooween out of his den, and then ran away to entice the big
brute into the open ground, where the pack rolled in upon him and killed
him in a terrible fight before he had fairly shaken the sleep out of his
eyes.
Old Tomah, the trapper, was abroad now, taking advantage of the spring
hunger. The wolves often crossed his snow-shoe trail, or followed it
swiftly to see whither it led. For a wolf, like a farm dog, is never
satisfied till he knows the ways of every living thing that crosses his
range. Following the broad trail Wayeeses would find here a trapped
animal, struggling desperately with the clog and the cruel gripping
teeth, there the flayed carcass of a lynx or an otter, and yonder the
leg of a dog or a piece of caribou meat hung by a cord over a runway,
with the snow disturbed beneath it where the deadly trap was hidden. One
glance, or a sniff at a distance, was enough for the wolf. Lynxes do not
go about the range without their skins, and meat does not naturally hang
on trees; so Wayeeses, knowing all the ways of the woods, would ignore
these baits absolutely.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108