250 MOOSWA 



he said, turning his head away, as he sat on his 

 haunches holding up a broken leg. Drip, drip- 

 drip, drip, little red drops ate their hot way into 

 the snow from Bull-Moose s neck. 



&quot; That is a nasty slash, Mooswa,&quot; sympathized 

 Blue Wolf, looking at his companion s wound. 



&quot; We twig-feeders have strong gullets,&quot; an 

 swered the Bull, &quot; else it had been worse. 

 There s nothing torn, for I still breathe through 

 my nose ; but for many a day you 11 hunt on 

 three legs because of me, Comrade.&quot; 



&quot; I suppose so,&quot; moaned Blue Wolf, regret 

 fully, licking nervously at his crushed paw. &quot; I 11 

 mate well with Black King. But it is all in the 

 life of the Pack, and not your fault ; no one 

 takes blame to himself who calls when his life is 

 at bay. Where go you, Brother how far back 

 are the Hunters ? &quot; 



Mooswa straightened his head sharp into the 

 wind it still held steady from the North. 

 &quot; Their scent comes from the second point, and 

 we must trail again ; the Firestick is not like a 

 Dog it bites beyond reach. Get in my horns, 

 Rof, and I 11 carry you.&quot; 



&quot; No,&quot; said Blue Wolf, decidedly ; &quot; each takes 

 his own hurt to his Burrow that is the way of 

 the Pack ; each to himself in the fight one 

 down is all on top. Besides, Comrade, your long 



