CHAPTER IX 



SANCTUARY 



" Pursued by hunger-starved wolves."" 



Henry VI, 



He had outdistanced his pursuer of the swift snow- 

 shoes at last, and sinking down beneath a giant fir, 

 whose branches hung in a curiously graceful down- 

 ward sweep as they supported an incalculable 

 weight of snow, the big moose, with every nerve 

 tingling and afire, stretched out his weary limbs to 

 rest, looking like some misshapen mammoth of the 

 past — a weary mammoth, burdened by an eighty 

 pound coronal. 



On the crisp air came an eerie whimper, low at 

 first, but very insistent, and gathering in volume 

 each instant. It brought the moose to his feet — 

 he knew what it meant quite well. The wolves 

 were out, calling, calling to one another. From 

 every point of the compass the cry resounded, and, 

 with a stab at his heart, which passed into a sick 



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