MOOSWA 



As if in answer to his muffled call he heard, 

 faintly, a Bird-voice it was Jack s would he 

 help him ? Lynx felt that he would not. 



&quot; He-e-e-p, he-e-e-p ! qu-e-e-k, que-e-e-e-k ! 

 come one, come all,&quot; cried Whisky-Jack. 



Violently Lynx struggled. Tighter and tighter 

 gathered the cord-noose, his own efforts drawing 

 the death-circle closer. His fast-glazing eyes 

 could just make out, in a shadowy way, the forms 

 of gathering Comrades. He had been trapped 

 they were in at the death to witness the execution 

 by his own hand. It did not last long. That 

 merciless noose, ever tightening, ever closing in 

 on the air pipes, was doing its work drying up 

 the lungs. 



&quot; It s terrible ! &quot; Mooswa blurted out. &quot; He s 

 dead now I m glad of it.&quot; 



&quot; Yes, he s dead,&quot; declared Carcajou, putting 

 his short-eared head down to Pisew s side, for well 

 he knew the old Forest trick of shamming death 

 to escape its reality. 



&quot; What of the carcass ? &quot; asked Mooswa ; 

 cc shall I carry it far in the bowl of my horns ? 

 One of our Comrades, though he die the just death 

 as declared by Law should not fall into the hands 

 of the Hunt-men.&quot; 



&quot; Leave him,&quot; muttered Blue Wolf; &quot; the Pack 

 pass this trail to-night.&quot; 



