The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1926-07-02
stopped and would have
Baree go

west the tonguing Of the wolf-pack. 1t
was not far distant probably not more
than a mile along the foot Of the
ridge, and the sharp, quick yapping
that followed the first outburst was
evidence that the long-fanged hunters
had put up sudden game, caribou
or young moose, and were close at
its heels. At the voice of her own
people Maheegun laid her ears close
to her head and was off like an arrow
from bow.
The unexpectedness of her move
ment and the swiftness of her flight
put Baree well behind her in the race
over the plain. She was running
blindly, favored by luck. For an in
teryal of perhaps five minutes the
pack were so near to their game that
they made no sound, and the chase
swung full into the face of Maheegun
and Baree. The latter was not half a
dozen lengths behind the youngs wolf
when crashing in the brush directly
ahead stopped them so sharply that
they tore up the snow with their
braced forefeet and squat launches.
Ten seconds later a caribou burst
through and flashed across an open
not more than twenty yards from
where they stood. They could hear
Its swift painting as it disappeared.
And then came the pack.
At sight of those swiftly moving
gray bodies Baree's heart leaped for
an instant into his throat He forgot
Maheegun, and that she had run away
from him. The moon and the stars
went out of existence for him. He no
longer sensed the chill Of the snow
under his feet He was wolf-all wolf.
With the warm scent of the caribou
in his nostrils, and the passion to kill
sweeping through him like fire, he
darted after the pack.
y Very soon he found himself close to
the TANKS of one of the gray monsters
of the pack; half a minute later a
new hunter swept in from the bush
behind him, and then second, and
after that third. 1t was as if Baree
had belonged to the pack always. He
had Joined 1t naturally, as other stray
wolves had joined it from out of the
bush; there had been. no ostentation,
no welcome such as Maheegun had
given him in the open, no hostility.
He belonged with these slim, swift
footed outlaws of the old forests. and
his own jaws snapped and his blood
ran hot as the smell of the caribou
grew heavier, and the sound of it's
crashing body nearer.
1t seemed to him they were almost
at it's heel when they swept into an
open plain, stretch of barren with
out tree or a shrub, brilliant in the
light of the stars and moon. Across
its unbroken carpet of snow sped the
caribou spare hundred yards ahead
of the pack. Now the two leading
hunters no longer followed directly in
the trail, but shot out at an angle,
one to the right and the other to the
left of the pursued, and like WELL
trained soldiers the pack split in
halves and spread out fan-shape n
the final charge.
The two ends Of the fan forged
ahead and closed in, until the leaders
were running almost abreast of the
caribou, with fifty or sixty feet sepa-
rating them from the pursued. Thus.
adroitly and swiftly, with deadly pre-
cision, the pack had formed horse
shoe Gordon of fangs from which there
was but one course of fiight-straight
ahead. For the caribou to swerve half
degree to the right or left meant
death.
1t was the duty Of the leaders to
draw in the ends of the horseshoe
now, until one or both of them could
make the fatal lunge for the ham,
strings. After that it would be
simple matter. The pack would close
in over the caribou like an inundation.
Baree had found his place in the
lower rim of the horseshoe, so that
he was fairly well in the rear when
the climax came. The plain made a
sudden dip. Straight ahead was the
CLEAN of Whitewater shimmering
softly in the starglow, and the sight
Of it sent final great squirt of blood
through the caribou's bursting heart.
Forty seconds would tell the story
forty seconds of last squirt for life,
of final tremendous effort to escape
death. Baree felt the sudden thrill of
these moments, and he forged ahead
with the others in that lower rim of
the horseshoe as one Of the leading
wolves made lunge for the young
bulls ham-string. 1t was clean miss.
A second wolf darted in. And this
one also missed.
There was no time for others to
take their place. From the broken end
of the horseshoe Baree heard the carl
bou's heavy plunge into water. When
Baree joined the pack, maddened,
manufacturing, snarling horde, Napa-
moos, the young bull, was well out in
the river and swimming steadily for
the opposite shore.