WHERE THE WAYS DIVIDE 217 



reckoned with, a crushing force his wit could not 

 repel, but a something the grand old bull, could he 

 have chosen, would not, perhaps, have had other- 

 wise. He had seen so many of his kind going down 

 the slope, seen splendid heads dwindle to nothing, 

 and, discounted, vanish from forest ken ; watched 

 moose after moose grow up only to meet a tragic 

 end at the fangs of wolf or winter. 



Moosewa was the most magnificent moose the 

 Alaskan Peninsula had ever produced. There 

 might be better in the Kenai. It was doubtful. 

 It seemed to him utterly impossible that he could 

 lose his pride of place — be the sport of hazard ; that 

 Nature, whom he loved in all her moods, could be 

 relentless enough to put him out of action. He 

 saw himself, king of the forest still, going down the 



years untouched by Time. 



And yet, rather than see in the deep lake pools 

 his wonderful head lessening in size and majesty, 

 and his body turned to a thick unshapeliness, he 

 would, I think, have chosen to die in the heyday 

 of his beauty. 



He was completely happy. That is the wonder 

 of the wild. The glories of the forest were all for 

 him ; every dawn brought something new, and 



28 



