THE ODYSSEY OF OLD BILL 103 
with the odor of autumn leaves in the water, to 
call for the chief of the herd, and to hear from the 
opposite shore, or the rocky forest above her, the 
answering coughs of Old Bill, and presently the 
swish in the low-hanging branches of his great 
pronged antlers as he came to his mate. Some- 
where in those high, wild mountains, three thou- 
sand, four thousand feet above the sea, Old Bill 
goes browsing, up hill and down, thirty miles, 
forty miles, on his long, powerful legs, between 
sleep and sleep, no longer meeting men on his 
journeys, nor wanting to, but avoiding them now, 
the shyness, the alertness of the wilderness sink- 
ing deeper and deeper into his consciousness, the 
northward urge toward yet deeper forests, yet 
wilder country, coming to him when the winds 
are up and tearing southward with a race of cloud 
and sting of sleet over the summit ledges. Will 
it be the antlers of some rising young champion 
‘in his own herd, or the broader horns of some 
wilderness-bred bull of the great north ranges 
that finally teaches him when his time of old age 
iscome? The way is long, the dangers many, to 
those free ranging herds above the St. Lawrence. 
Old Bill may never get there. All one can say is 
that his nostrils quiver to the keen north wind. 
