ther.

Instinctively he always took this trail when he was hurt or when he was
sick, and also when he was ready to den up for the winter. There was one
chief reason for this: he was born in the almost impenetrable fastnesses at
the head of the creek, and his cubhood had been spent amid its brambles of
wild currants and soap berries and its rich red ground carpets of
kinnikinic. It was home. In it he was alone. It was the one part of his
domain that he held inviolate from all other bears. He tolerated other
bears--blacks and grizzlies--on the wider and sunnier slopes of his range
just so long as they moved on when he approached. They might seek food
there, and nap in the sun-pools, and live in quiet and peace if they did
not defy his suzerainty.

Thor did not drive other bears from his range, except when it was
necessary to demonstrate again that he was High Mogul. This happened
occasionally, and there was a fight. And always after a fight Thor came
into this valley and went up the creek to cure his wounds.

He made his way more slowly than usual to-day. There was a terrible pain in
his fore-shoulder. Now and then it hurt him so that his leg doubled up, and
he stumbled. Several times he waded shoulder-deep into pools and let the
cold water run over his wounds. Gradually they stopped bleeding. But the
pain grew worse.

Thor's best friend in such an emergency was a clay wallow. This was the
second reason why he always took this trail when he was sick or hurt. It
led to the clay wallow. And the clay wallow was his doctor.

The sun was setting before he reached the wallow. His jaws hung open a
little. His great head drooped lower. He had lost a great deal of blood. He
was tired, and his shoulder hurt him so badly that he wanted to tear with
his teeth at the strange fire that was consuming it.

The clay wallow was twenty or thirty feet in diameter, and hollowed into a
little shallow pool in the centre. It was a soft, cool, golden-coloured
clay, and Thor waded into it to his armpits. Then he rolled over gently on
his wounded side. The clay touched his hurt like a cooling salve. It sealed
the cut, and Thor gave a great heaving gasp of relief. For a long time he
lay in that soft bed of clay. The sun went down, darkness came, and the
wonderful stars filled the sky. And still Thor lay there, nursing that
first hurt of man.

CHAPTER FOUR

In the edge of the balsam and spruce Langdon and Otto sat smoking their
pipes