“THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE” 25 
go out together and pull down a fat buck. By 
himself, he tackled only does. That was why 
Swiftfoot still remained in the neighborhood, 
often meeting poor Softfur as she hunted for her 
young at first, and later hunted with them, teach- 
ing them to run, to follow the scent, to spring for 
the throat or the flank. 
It was one hot August morning that Swiftfoot 
was awakened from his nap under a thick balsam 
near timber line by the baying of dogs again. 
They were once more headed for the den, evi- 
dently on Softfur’s tracks of a few hours before. 
Swiftfoot roused and trotted along a ledge from 
which he could get a view of the woods and rocks 
below. Softfur was out, bounding toward the 
mountain top, the cubs behind her; but the cubs 
could not keep her pace, and now and then she 
had to stop and wait for them. ‘Two dogs, three 
dogs, broke out of the woods a moment later, a 
hound with his nose on the trail, a powerful Aire- 
dale, and a big, rangy collie. The collie caught 
sight of Softfur and her cubs high above, and 
sprang into the lead, abandoning scent altogether. 
Softfur was in a place where she could retreat in 
