86 
Northern Trails. Book I 
grew blind in his fury they would seize their chance like 
a flash and leap together; one pair of long jaws would 
close hard on the spine behind the tufted ears; another 
pair would grip a hind leg, while the wolves sprang 
apart and braced to hold. Then the fight was all over; 
and the moose birds, in pairs, came flitting in silently to 
see if there were not a few unconsidered trifles of the 
feast for them to dispose of. 
Occasionally, at nightfall, the wolves’ hunting cry 
would ring out of the woods as one of the cubs discov¬ 
ered three or four of the lynxes growling horribly over 
some game they had pulled down together. For Up- 
weekis too, though generally a solitary fellow, often 
roams with a savage band of freebooters to hunt the 
larger animals in the bitter winter weather. No young 
wolf would ever run into one of these bands alone; but 
when the pack rolled in upon them like a tempest the 
lynxes would leap squalling away in a blind rush; and 
the two big wolves, cutting in from the ends of the charg¬ 
ing line, would turn a lynx kit deftly aside for the cubs 
to hold. Then another for themselves, and the hunt was 
over, — all but the feast at the end of it. 
When a big and cunning lynx took to a tree at the 
first alarm the wolves would go aside to leeward, where 
Upweekis could not see them, but where their noses 
told them perfectly all that he was doing. Then began 
the long game of patience, the wolves waiting for the 
