100 ON THE EDGE OF THE WILDERNESS 
sideways, then down, the great body, pried from 
its balanced purchase in the miry loam, slipped, 
toppled, and the vanquished leader of the herd 
went down on his knees, with a bleeding head, 
with a red wound slit across the neck, with a 
gouged flank, beaten at last, uncrowned, laid low. 
Bill wrenched his locked antlers free, butted 
his opponent once more for full measure, stood 
up and proclaimed his triumph, and then went 
through the gathering night toward the call of the 
cow. 
But, as has been known to be the case with 
humans, victory did not bring content to Old 
Bill. Just at first it did, perhaps, as he piloted 
. the herd, young bulls and all, around the winter 
feeding with a new sense of dignity and im- 
portance. But it wasn’t long before restlessness 
came upon him, a strange restlessness that seemed 
to come from some whisper of the north wind. 
The north! What was to the north, anyway? 
Bill, since that first escape from the reservation 
and the terror of the smoking monster on the iron 
road, had never crossed the tracks in all his wan- 
derings. He had been south to Connecticut, 
