"He takes it up.
"All day he follows it. At night he camps and sleeps by his fire in
comfort. By daybreak again he is swinging along on that trail. Its word
is plain to him. At first it raged, that great shaggy creature, tall as
an ox and slow, raged and fought and broke its teeth on the strange
thing that bit to the bone with its relentless jaws, and tore along the
white silence dragging its hindering ball, that, catching on bush and
root, skinned down the flesh from the shining bone. And presently the
wild trail narrowed to undisturbed snow, with naught save two great
footprints, one after the other. With the cunning of a man, M'sieu, the
tortured animal has gathered in its arms that chain and ball, and is
walking upright. For another day and night the trapper follows this
trail of tragedy and at their end he comes upon it.
"Beside a boulder, where the snow is pushed away there lies a round
heap of anguish, curled up, pinched nose flat on the snow and two ears
laid lop to a vanquished head. It is still breathing, though the dull
eyes open not at sound of the trapper, bold in his safety, who lifts
his gun and ends it all.
"A fine pelt,--save that the right foreleg is somewhat spoiled.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73