THE RUN OF THE WOLVES 171 



less, too, seemed the flight ; those swift-rushing, 

 merciless Wolves would overtake him as soon as 

 the shadows had deepened into night. He had 

 his Buffalo knife, and when they pressed too 

 close, could build a fire ; that might save him 

 it was a bare possibility. 



With the thirst for Mooswa s blood upon him, 

 his eager straining after the fleeing animal had 

 been exhilaration ; desire had nourished his 

 stomach, and anticipated victory kept his throat 

 moist : now the Death-fear turned the night-wind 

 to a hot fire-blast ; his lungs pumped and ham 

 mered for a cooling lotion ; his heart pounded at 

 the bone-ribs with a warning note for rest. The 

 thews that had snapped with strong elasticity in 

 the morning, now tugged and pulled with the 

 ache of depression; going, he had chosen his path 

 over the white carpet, coolly measuring the lie of 

 each twig, and brush, and stump now he trav 

 elled as one in a thicket. Small skeleton Spruce- 

 shoots, stripped of their bark by hungry Wapoos, 

 and dried till every twig was like a lance, reached 

 out and caught at his snow-shoes ; drooping 

 Spruce-boughs, low swinging with their weight of 

 snow, caused him to double under or circle in his 

 race against Blue WolPs Pack. 



All nature, animate and inanimate, was fighting 

 for his life eager for his blood. Even a sharp 



