The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1921-04-21
CHAPTER CONTINUED.


For when ell thugs are said and
done, there were few bigger towards
in the whole Wilderness world than
Whisperfoot. A good many people
think that Graycoat the coyote
could take lessons from him In this
respect. But others, knowing how a
hunter is brought in occasionally with
almost all human resemblance gone
from him because a cougar charged in
his death agony, think this is unfair
10 the larger animal. And II is true
that a %full-grown cougar will some
times attack horned cattle, something
that no American animal cares to do
unless he wants a good fight on his
paws and Of which the very thought
would throw Graycoat into a spasm
and there have been even stranger
stories, If one could quite believe
them. A certain measure OF respect
must be extended TO any animal that
viii hunt the great bull elk, for to
miss the stroke and get caught be-
meath the churning, flashing, slashing,
razor-edged front hoofs is simply
death, painful and without delay. But
things are not done In the ordinary,
rational blood of hunting. What an
animal does In its death agony. or TO
protect its young. what great game II
follows in the starving times Of win
ter, can be put TO neither its debit
40, ftef aroIif ncx.nta v,fli aha ~
when mad. A raccoon win put up n
wicked fight when cornered. A hen
will peck NJ the hand that rohs her
nest. When hunting was fairly good.
Whisperfoot avoided the elk and steer
almost as punctiliously as he avoided
men, which Is saying very much in
deed : and any kind of terrier could
usually drive him straight up a tree.
But he did like TO pretend to he
very great and terrible among the
smaller forest creatures. And he was
Fear itself to the deer. A human
hunter who would XIII two deer a
week for fifty-two weeks would be
called a much uglier name than poach-.
err; but yet this had been Whisper
fcot's record. on and Off, ever since
his second year. Many a great buck
wore the scar Of the full stroke-aft-
err which Whisperfoot had lost his
hold. Many a fawn had crouched
painting with terror In the thickets hi
lust a tawny light on the gnarled limb
Of a nine. Many a doe would grow
yreat-eyed and terrified at just his
strange pungent Smell on the wind.
He yawned again. and his fangs
looked white and abnormally large In
the moonlight. His great, green eyes
were still clouded and languorous
from sleep. Then he began to steal
IN tie ridge toward his hunting
grounds. 1t was a curious thing that
he walked straight In the face OF tile
soft wind that came down from the
SNOW fields. and yet there wasn't a
veafhercock 10 be seen anywhere. And
neither had the chipmunk seen hin
wet a paw and hold II up. after the
approved fashion Of holding up q fn-
ger. He had a better way Of knowing
IA chill at the end of his w~hiskers.
The little, breathless night sounds
IN the brush around him seemed TO
madden him. They made a song 10
nin,. a strange. wild melody that eve
such frontiersmen MS Dan and Len
nov conId no. experience. A thousand
rmells 5rushed down to him on the
wind, more 3ctent than n wine or
49, uo bpgrn 70 fremble all over
Nth rapture aad excitement. But I'M
fke Cranston's trembling. no wilder
s3se ear wns keen enough to lear &c
nsssx rusfling beneath him.