172 MOOSWA 



half-dead limb, sticking out from a Tamarack, 

 cut him in the face, and sucked a few drops of 

 the hot fluid. Startled into ejaculation, Fran9ois 

 panted huskily: &quot; Holy Mudder, sabe me dis 

 time. I give to de good Pere Lacombe de big 

 ofFerin for de Mission.&quot; And all the time 

 swinging along with far-reaching strides. 



Memory-pictures of animals that had stood 

 helplessly at bay before his merciless gun flashed 

 through his mind. Once a Moose-mother had 

 fronted him to defend her two calves the big 

 almond eyes of the heroic beast had pleaded for 

 their lives. He had not understood it then ; 

 now, some way or another, it came back to him 

 they glared from the forest like avenging spirit 

 eyes, as he toiled to leave that Wolf-call behind. 



The Shack was still many miles away, for he 

 had travelled far in the fulness of his seasoned 

 strength in the Hunt-race of the daytime. 



&quot; I got me one c ance,&quot; he muttered hoarsely. 

 &quot; S pose I get too weak make fire, I dead, soor.&quot; 

 A big Birch, in its heavy frieze-coat of white cloth, 

 seemed to whisper, &quot; Just one chance ! &quot; 



Eagerly Fran9ois tore its resin-oiled blanket 

 from the tree, took a match from his firebag, 

 snapped the sulphur end with his thumb-nail, for 

 his clothes were saturated with fear-damp perspi 

 ration, and lighted the quick-blazing Birch. A 



