160 THE MOOSE 



curving claws, outgrown now from their winter 

 gloves of woolly hair, she showed her teeth and 

 hissed — hissed like a cat. 



He rather liked the hissing. It was a tribute to 

 his size and his importance in the bush world. It 

 made him think of himself as a creature to be con- 

 sidered, and took his mind off the constant burn 

 and throb in his small, soft, flat-formed horns. 



The perpetual passing to and fro of a large 

 timber wolf wore quite a track along the river-side. 

 Strange that the process of the seasons should so 

 alter his awesome character — in winter a beast to 

 be feared above all others ; in summer a furtive, 

 slinking brute, who didn't matter much one way 

 or the other. 



And yet the wolf retained many of his cold- 

 weather habits — the crouching trot, and the artful 

 trick of letting his brush trail, so that on snow 

 or sand it obliterated the track of his feet until 

 he reached cover, when he tossed the dragging tail 

 high like a flag of victory. 



He made no journey to the secluded cover be- 

 neath a large upturned root without a purpose — 

 the moose saw that quite well. If he had nothing 

 to carry home, he remained away. Foxes, rabbits, 



