the hock; another snap and he must come down,
spite of his great power, and be food for the growing cubs that sat on
their tails watching him, unterrified now by his fierce challenge. But
Megaleep's time had not yet come; besides, he was too tough. So the
wolves studied him awhile, amused perhaps at the rough play; then, as if
at a silent command, they vanished like shadows into the nearest cover,
leaving the big stag in his rage to think himself master of all the
world.

Sometimes as the old he-wolf ranged alone, a silent, powerful,
noble-looking brute, he would meet the caribou, and there would be a
fascinating bit of animal play. He rarely turned aside, knowing his own
power, and the cows and fawns after one look would bound aside and rack
away at a marvelous pace over the barrens. In a moment or two, finding
that they were not molested, they would turn and watch the wolf
curiously till he disappeared, trying perhaps to puzzle it out why the
ferocious enemy of the deep snows and the bitter cold should now be
harmless as the passing birds.

Again a young bull with his keen, polished spike-horns, more active and
dangerous but less confident than the over-antlered stags, would stand
in the old wolf's path, disputing with lowered front the right of way.
Here the right of way meant a good deal, for in many places on the high
plains the scrub spruces grow so thickly that a man can easily walk over
the tops of them on his snow-shoes, and the only possible passage in
summer-time is by means of the numerous paths worn through the scrub by
the passing of animals for untold ages. So one or the other of the two
splendid brutes that now approached each other in the narrow way must
turn aside or be beaten down underfoot.

Quietly, steadily, the old wolf would come on till almost within
springing distance, when he would stop and lift his great head,
wrinkling his chops to show the long white fangs, and rumbling a warning
deep in his massive chest. Then the caribou would lose his nerve; he
would stamp and fidget and bluster, and at last begin to circle
nervously, crashing his way into the scrub as if for a chance to take
his enemy in the flank. Whereupon the old wolf would trot quietly along
the path, paying no more heed to the interruption; while the young bull
would stand wondering, his body hidden in the scrub and his head thrust
into the narrow path to look after his strange adversary.

Another time, as the old wolf ranged a