and still more was he
oppressed by the fear of death. His was that eternal tragedy of the
aged, with whom the joy of life has departed and the instinct for death
has not come.

When my moose-meat spluttered rowdily in the frying-pan, I noticed old
Ebbits's nostrils twitch and distend as he caught the food-scent. He
ceased rocking for a space and forgot to groan, while a look of
intelligence seemed to come into his face.

Zilla, on the other hand, rocked more rapidly, and for the first time, in
sharp little yelps, voiced her pain. It came to me that their behavior
was like that of hungry dogs, and in the fitness of things I should not
have been astonished had Zilla suddenly developed a tail and thumped it
on the floor in right doggish fashion. Ebbits drooled a little and
stopped his rocking very frequently to lean forward and thrust his
tremulous nose nearer to the source of gustatory excitement.

When I passed them each a plate of the fried meat, they ate greedily,
making loud mouth-noises--champings of worn teeth and sucking intakes of
the breath, accompanied by a continuous spluttering and mumbling. After
that, when I gave them each a mug of scalding tea, the noises ceased.
Easement and content came into their faces. Zilla relaxed her sour mouth
long enough to sigh her satisfaction. Neither rocked any more, and they
seemed to have fallen into placid meditation. Then a dampness came into
Ebbits's eyes, and I knew that the sorrow of self-pity was his. The
search required to find their pipes told plainly that they had been
without tobacco a long time, and the old man's eagerness for the narcotic
rendered him helpless, so that I was compelled to light his pipe for him.

"Why are you all alone in the village?" I asked. "Is everybody dead? Has
there been a great sickness? Are you alone left of the living?"

Old Ebbits shook his head, saying: "Nay, there has been no great
sickness. The village has gone away to hunt meat. We be too old, our
legs are not strong, nor can our backs carry the burdens of camp and
trail. Wherefore we remain here and wonder when the young men will
return with meat."

"What if the young men do return with meat?" Zilla demanded harshly.

"They may return with much meat," he quavered hopefully.

"Even so, with much meat," she continued, more harshly than before. "But
of what worth to you and me? A few bones to gnaw in our toothless old
age. But the back-fat, the kidneys, and