85 
The White Wolf's Hunting 
startle the wits out of his stupid head and send him off 
headlong, as cats go, before he knew what was after 
him. Away he would go in mighty jumps, sinking 
shoulder deep, often indeed up to his tufted ears, at 
every plunge. After him raced the wolves, running 
lightly and taking advantage of the holes he had made 
in the soft snow, till a swift snap in his flank brought 
Upweekis up with a ferocious snarl to tear in pieces 
his pursuers. 
Then began as savage a bit of fighting as the woods 
ever witness, teeth against talons, wolf cunning against 
cat ferocity. Crouched in the snow, spitting and snarl¬ 
ing, his teeth bared and round eyes blazing and long 
claws aching to close in a death grip, Upweekis waited 
impatient as a fury for the rush. He is an ugly fighter; 
but he must always get close, gripping his enemy with 
teeth and fore claws while the hind claws get in their 
deadly work, kicking downward in powerful spasmodic 
blows and ripping everything before them. A dog would 
rush in now and be torn to pieces; but not so the wolves. 
Dancing lightly about the big lynx they would watch 
their chance to leap and snap, sometimes avoiding the 
blow of the swift paw with its terrible claws, and some¬ 
times catching it on their heavy manes; but always a 
long red mark showed on the lynx’s silver fur as the 
wolves’ teeth clicked with the voice of a steel trap and 
they leaped aside without serious injury. As the big cat 
