The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1926-04-09
Chapter H-Continued

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1t was quite fortunate for Baree
that this instinct did not go to the
limit in the beginning and make him
understand that his own breed-the
wolf-was most feared of all the crea-
lures, claw, hoof, and wing, of the
forests. Otherwise, like the small boy
who thinks he can swim before he has
mastered a stroke, he might some
where have jumped in beyond his
depth and had his head chewed off.
Very much alert. with the hair
standing up along his spine, and a
little growl in his throat, BARGE
smelled of the big footprints made by
the bear and the moose. 1t was the
bear-scent that made him growl. He
followed the tracks to the edge Of the
creek. After that he resumed his wan
dering, and also his hunt for food.
For two hours he did not find
crayfish. Then he came out of the
green timber into the edge Of
burned-over country. Here everything
was black. The stumps of the trees
stood up like huge charred canes. 1t
was a comparatively fresh burn" Of
last autumn, and the ash was still soft
under Baree's feet Straight through
this black region ran the creek, and
over it hung blue sky in which the
sun was shining. 1t was quite invit-
ing to Baree. The fox, the wolf, the
moose, and the caribou would have
od nf
dead country. In another year it would
be good hunting ground, but now it
was lifeless. Even the owls would
have found nothing to eat out there.
It was the blue sky and the sun and
the softness of the earth under his
feet that lured Baree. 1t was pleasant
to travel in after his painful expert
ences in the forest. He continued to
follow the stream, though there was
now little possibility of his finding
anything to eat. The water had be-
come sluggish and dark; the channel
was choked with charred debris that
had fallen into it when the forest had
burned, and its shores were soft and
muddy After time, when Baree
stepped and looked about him, he
could no longer see the green timber
he had left. He was alone in that
desolate wilderness of charred tree
corpses. 1t was as still as death, too.
Not the chirp of bird broke the 81
lence. In the soft ash he could not
hear the fall of his own feet. But he
was not frightened. There was the
assurance of safety here.
If he could only find something to
eat! That was the master thought
that possessed Baree. Instinct had
not vet impressed upon him that this
which he saw all about him was star
walton. He went on, seeking hopefully
for food. But at last, as the hours
passed, hope began to die out of him.
The sun sank westward. The sky
grew less blue; low wind began to
ride over the tops of the stubs, and
now and then one Of them fell with
startling crash.
Baree could go no farther. An hour
before dusk he lay down in tine open,
weak and starved. The sun disap-
peared behind the forest. The moon
rolled up from the east. The sky gilt
tered with stars-and all through the
night Baree lay as If dead. When
morning came, he dragged himself to
the stream for a drink. With his last
strength he went on. 1t was the wolf
urging him-compelling him to strug-
gle to the last for his life. The dog
in him wanted to lie down and die.
But the wolf-spark in him burned
stronger. In the end it won. Half a
mile farther on he came again to the
green timber.
In the forests as we'll as in the great
cities fate plays its changing and
whimsical hand. If Baree had dragged
himself into the timber half an hour
later no would have died. He was
too far gone now to hunt for crayfish
or kill the weakest bird But he came
just as Sekoosew, the ermine-the
most bloodthirsty little pirate Of all
the wild-was making kill.
That was fully a hundred yards
from where Baree lay stretched out
under spruce, almost ready to give
up the ghost. Sekoosew was a mighty
hunter of his kind His body was
about seven inches long, with tiny
black-tipped tail appended to it, and
he weighed perhaps five ounces. A
baby's fingers could have encircled him