70 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 
Whitetip lay in the den, licking her injured 
paw. Again she gave a little whinmg moan 
when Big Reddy entered. He lay down beside 
her and applied his warm tongue. She was his 
mate. She was hurt. He had just saved her 
life. Why had he saved her life? He could 
hardly have told you that, but he knew the time 
was drawing on when the snow would soften, the 
wind at night would pull in from the south, and 
that strange, powerful feeling would come over 
him. He slept the rest of that day by her side. 
At night he went out. The stars were hidden. 
A south wind was soughing through the pines. 
There was a peculiar smell in the air. The snow 
was a little damp. Reddy tipped up his head 
and emitted a long-drawn scream that would 
have done credit to a panther. It was a warning 
to all in the woods that his mate lay there, in the 
den, and he, Big Reddy, was prepared to defend 
her. Then, because she was injured, he went 
forth into the dark, to get her meat. It was a 
characteristic touch that he headed for the chicken 
coops of Lucy’s master. 
