Singing Cliffs 



from tree to tree, a mode of forest travel not without 

 its fascination and effectiveness, till I reached the 

 height of a knoll beyond which I made sure was my 

 objective point. On peeping out from behind the 

 last pine, I found I had calculated pretty well, for 

 there was the hollow, the big windfall, with its round, 

 starfish-shaped roots exposed to the bright sun, and 

 near that, the carcass. Sure enough, pulling hard at 

 it, was the gray-white wolf I recognized as my 

 &quot; lofer.&quot; 



But he presented an exceedingly difficult shot. 

 Backing down the ridge, I ran a little way to come 

 up behind another tree, from which I soon shifted 

 to a fallen pine. Over this I peeped, to get a splendid 

 view of the wolf. He had stopped tugging at the 

 horse, and stood with his nose in the air. Surely he 

 could not have scented me, for the wind. was strong 

 from him to me; neither could he have heard my soft 

 footfalls on the pine needles; nevertheless, he was 

 suspicious. Loth to spoil the picture he made, I 

 risked a chance, and waited. Besides, though I 

 prided myself on being able to take a fair aim, I had 

 no great hope that I could hit him at such a distance. 

 Presently he returned to his feeding, but not for long. 

 Soon he raised his long, fine-pointed head, and trotted 

 away a few yards, stopped to sniff again, then went 

 back to his grewsome work. 



247 



