66 THE MOOSE 



bead of flame. On a heap of rotting leaves a 

 porcupine lay for dead, and now and again the 

 peremptory tap - tap - tapping of a woodpecker 

 drowned the small sounds of the softly squelching 

 hoofs. 



The density of the bordering bush tangle lightened 

 a little, and the moss hanging in swaying festoons 

 across the path of the woods flung long shadows 

 on the secret lawns made for the dancing feet of 

 light-limbed satyrs. Sweet-burdened winds, full of 

 the incense of summer, carried a message upwards 

 to the snow tiers. 



Suddenly the cow stopped, paralyzed with terror, 

 facing a clump of interlacing junipers, her limbs 

 rigid, her stiffened legs immovable. The scent of 

 a human being, so frightening to all the deer tribe, 

 had reached her nostrils. 



Bang ! 



She dropped in her tracks, struggled up again 

 gamely, and tried to turn. A few lurching steps, 

 and another bullet got her behind the shoulder. 

 Her nose touched earth, and she fell to rise no 

 more. 



The yearling and the calf, in sympathetic 

 wonderment, pulled together for the fraction of 



