University Missourian. [volume] (Columbia, Mo.) 1908-1916, 1915-08-16

staccat0 OF quick snarp yelpS ina
stirred his blood at once into a fiery
excitement that 1t had never knowr
before. The same instinct told hin
that this was the call-the hunt-cry
1t urged him to come quickly. A few
moments later it came again, and this
time there was a reply from close
down along the foot of the ridge, and
another from SO far away that Kazar
could scarcely hear it. The hunt.
pack was gathering for the night
chase; but Kazan sat quiet and trem-
bling.
He was not afraid, but he was not
ready to go. The ridge seemed to
split the world for him. Down there
it was new, and strange. and without
men. From the other side something
seemed pulling him back, and sudden
ly he turned his head and gaZed back
through the moonlit space behind him.
and whined. II was the dog-whine
now. The woman was back there. He
could hear her voice. He could feel
the touch of her soft hand. He could
see the laughter In her face and eyes,
the laughter that had made him warm
and happy. She was calling to him
through the forests. and he was torn
between desire to answer that call,
and desire to go down into the plain.
For he could also see many men wait
ing for him with clubs, and he could
hear the cracking of whips, and feel
the sting of their lashes.
For a long time he remained on the
top of the ridge that divided his world.
And then, at last, he turned and went
down into the plain.
All that night he kept close to the
hunt-pack, but never quite approached
it. This was fortunate for him. He
still bore the scent of traces, and Of
man. The pack would have torn him
into pieces. The first instinct of the
wild is that a self-preservation. 1t
may have been this, whisper back
through the years of savage fore
bears, that made Kazan roll in the
snow now and then where the feet of
the pack had trod the thickest.
That night the pack killed caribou
on the edge of the lake. and feasted
until nearly dawn. Kazan hung in
the face of the wind. The smell of
blood and of warm flesh tickled his
nostrils, and his sharp ears could
catch the cracking of bones. But the
instinct was stronger than the tempta-
tion.
Not until broad day. when the pack
had scattered far and wide over the
plain, did he go boldly to the scene of
the kill. He found nothing but an
area of blood-reddened snow, covered
with bones, entrails and torn bits of
tough hide But it was enough, and
he rolled in it, and buried his nose in
what was left, and remained all that
day close to it, saturating himself with
the scent of 1t.
That night, when the moon and the
stars came out again, he sat back with
fear and hesitation no longer in him,
and announced himself to his new
of the great plain.
The pack hunted again that night,
or else it was a new pack that started
miles to the south, and came up with
a doe caribou to the big frozen lake.
The night was almost as clear as day.
and from the edge of the forest Kazan
first saw the caribou run out on the
lake third of a mile away. The pack
was about a dozen strong. and had
already split into the fatal horseshoe
the two leaders running
almost abreast of the kill, and slow
ly closing in.
With a sharp yelp Kazan darted out
into the moonlight. He was directly
in the path of the fleeing doe. and bore
down upon her with lightning speed.
Two hundred yards away the doe saw |
him, and swerved to the right. and the |
leader on that side met her with open |
laws. Kazan was in with the second |
eader, and leaped at the does soft |
.hroat. In a snarling mass the pack
closed in from behind, and the doe
vent down, with Kazan half under her
body, his fangs sunk deep in her ju-
yular. She lay heavily on him, but he
lid not lose his hold. 1t was the first |
zig kill. His blood ran like fire. He
'narled between his clamped teeth.
Not until the last quiver had left the
,ody over. him did he pull himself out