The Way of the Wolf 71 
ferocious enemy of the deep snows and the bitter cold 
should now be harmless as the passing birds. 
Again a young bull with his keen, polished spike- 
horns, more active and dangerous but less confident 
than the over-antlered stags, would stand in the old 
wolf’s path, disputing with lowered front the right of 
way. Here the right of way meant a good deal, for 
in many places on the high plains the scrub spruces 
grow so thickly that a man can easily walk over the 
tops of them on his snow-shoes, and the only possible 
passage in summer-time is by means of the numer¬ 
ous paths worn through the scrub by the passing of 
animals for untold ages. So one or the other of the 
two splendid brutes that now approached each other 
in the narrow way must turn &side or be beaten down 
underfoot. 
Quietly, steadily, the old wolf would come on till 
almost within springing distance, when he would stop 
and lift his great head, wrinkling his chops to show the 
long white fangs, and rumbling a warning deep in his 
massive chest. Then the caribou would lose his nerve; 
he would stamp and fidget and bluster, and at last begin 
to circle nervously, crashing his way into the scrub as if 
for a chance to take his enemy in the flank. Where¬ 
upon the old w r olf would trot quietly along the path, 
paying no more heed to the interruption; while the 
young bull would stand wondering, his body hidden in 
