Evening star., 1924-08-05
Continued from Yesterdays Starr

After a time. the ptarmigan ceased
her struggling. He still held her by
the wing, and they lay on the ground
and looked at each other. He tried
to growl threateningly, ferociously
She pecked on his nose, which by
now, what of previous adventures.
was sore. He WINGED but held on.
She pecked him again and again
From Wlncing he went to whimpering.
He tried to back away from her, OBJ
Ilvlous OF the fact that by his hold
on her he dragged her after him. A
rain of pecks fell on his ill-used nose.
The flood of fight ebbed down in him.
ana, releasing his prey, he turned tail
and scampered off across the open in
lnglorious retreat.
He lay down to rest on the other
SIDE OF the open, near the edge of the
bushes, his tongue lolling out. his
chest heaVing and painting, his nose
sun hurting him and causing him to
continue his whimper. But as he lay
there, suddenly there came to him a
feeling as of something terrible i'm
pending. The unknown with all its
terrors rushed upon him, and he
shrank back instinetively into the
shelter of the bush. AS he did so, a
draught of air famed him, and a
large, winged body swept ominously
down out of the blue, had barely
missed him.
While he lay in the bush, recovering
from his fright and peering fearfully
out, the mother-ptarmigan on the
other side of the open space f1uttered
out of the ravaCed nest. 1t was be-
cause cause of her loss that she paid
no attention to the winged bolt of the
sky. But the cub saw, and it was a
warning and a lesson to him-the
swift downward swoop of the hawk,
the short skim of its body just above
the ground, the strike of its talons
in the body of the ptarmigan, the
ptarmlganS SquaWk of agony and
fright. and the hawks rush upward
into the blue, carrying the ptarmigan
away with it.
1t was a long time before the cub
left his shelter. He had learned
much. Live things were meat. They
were good to eat. Also. live things
give hurt. 1t was better to eat small
live things like ptarmigan chicks,
and to let alone large live things like
ptarmigan hens. Nevertheless he felt
a little prick of ambition sneaking
desire to have another battle with
that ptarmigan hen-only the hawk
had carried her away. Maybe there
were other ptarmigan hens. He
would go and see.
He came down a shelving bank to
the stream. He had never seen water
before. The footing looked good.
There were no inequalities of sur
face. He stepped boldly out on it; and
went down, crying with fear, into the
embrace of the unknown. 1t was
cold, and he gasped, breathing quick
ly. The water rushed into his lungs
instead OF the air that had always
accompanied his act of breathing.
The suffocation he experienced was
like the pang of death. To him it
signified death. He had no conscious
knowledge of death. but like every
animal of the wild. he possessed the
instinct of death. To him it stood as
the greatest of hurt. 1t was the very
essence of the unknown: il was the
sum of the terrors of the unknown,
the one eliminating and unthinkable
catastrophe that could happen TO him,
about which he knew nothing and
about which he feared everything.
He came to the surface, and the
sweet air rushed into his open mouth.
He did not go down again. Quite as
though it had been a long -esta blished
custom of his, he struck out with all
his legs and began to swim. The near