32 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 
ning east and west right over the big ridge. In 
the distance he heard a great roaring, and caught 
a strange, pungent odor. He shrank back into 
the bushes, crouched and waiting. Two blinding 
lamps, like huge eyes, came around a bend. An 
iron thing, with the men creatures sitting in it, 
thundered by, leaving the strange smell behind. 
~ Swiftfoot rose and crossed the Mohawk Trail, 
and no Mohawk that sneaked along that path 
when it was a dim track in the ancient wilderness 
ever stole with softer footsteps or vanished more 
like a ghost into the dusk of the forest. 
More than ever now Swiftfoot missed the pack. 
The deer were numerous everywhere. Never 
was such good hunting in his experience. Yet 
for one lone wolf it was hard and dangerous 
work. The fawns were getting their growth, to 
be sure, and when one wandered away from its 
mother he could pull it down easily enough. But 
as yet they stuck pretty close still to the old deer, 
and a solitary wolf has to work sometimes for 
hours at a stretch to cut out a fawn, or even take 
to his heels if the buck appears. There weren’t 
many rabbits nor grouse. The hawks and owls, 
