lolling from between big, thick lips; "where did she come from,
A'tim, you who know the Northland forests?"
"She's a Wood Buffalo," answered the Dog-Wolf.
"What's a Wood Buffalo?" asked Shag.
"They are even as yourself, Great Bull; driven from the plains by
the many-breathed Fire-stick, they have come to this good Range
of the Northland. They go not in Herds, but few together, as
Mooswa and others of the forest."
"Why did she run away, Brother A'tim?" grunted Shag, lying down
to rest.
The Dog-Wolf laughed disagreeably. "That is but the way of the
Cow kind," he answered.
"No," said Shag decisively; "she was frightened."
"She was," assented A'tim; "Ghur-r-r! I should say so."
"At what?" asked Shag.
"Forgive me, Brother, but most assuredly she was frightened by
you."
"By me--am I not of her kind?"
"Yes, but how should she know? Are you like a Buffalo, Shag? Your
hide is bare and scarred, and perhaps she took you for some evil
thing."
Shag looked ruefully at his great, scraggy sides, so like an
Elephant's, only more disreputable, and sighed resignedly; "I
suppose I can't help it," he muttered.
"You can, Shag; if you will but eat of the Fur Flower it will
cure this evil disease which is in your blood, and bring back the
beautiful silk coat that was the envy of the Buffalo Range."
"Do you speak the truth, Dog-Wolf?" asked Shag.
"Most surely. All the Dwellers in the Northland know that. Are
not all the Forest-Dwellers full-haired?"
"And this Fur Flower, A'tim; where is it?"
"Less than a day's trail," answered the Dog-Wolf.
"Find it for me, kind Brother," begged the Bull. "When one
frightens those of his own kind it is time to try something."
As they plodded through the forest, A'tim muttered: "Now I shall
surely have this vain old Bull. The Death Coulee is close to
Porcupine Water, and that is not far. Shag shall eat of the Death
Flower, which I have called the Fur Flower, to improve his
appearance; and when he is dead I will eat of him to improve
mine."
A three hours' tramp and they came to a little valley rich in
bright yellow grass, topped by a stately plant that nodded and
rustled in the wind as its many seed pods swayed like strings of
dark pearls. It was the Monkshood, the deadly aconite, which,
when the summer was young, hung its helmet flower in a shimmering
veil of blue over the sweet grass of the Death Valley--the valley
known of all animals as the Coulee of the Long Rest, for he who
browsed there found his limbs bound in the steel cords of death.
"There," said A'tim, nodding his head at the bronze gold of the
many Monkshood, "there is the Fur Flower. It will be dry eating
now, being of a season's age, but in the early feed-time it is
sweet and tender. While you eat of it I shall rest here."
A strong rustling of grass almost at their heels caused the
Dog-Wolf to spring to his feet in alarm.
"Eu-h-h, eu-h-h! here is the accursed Cow again. Where in the
name of Forest Fools have you come from--why do you follow us?"
exclaimed A'tim.
"It is the way of my kind," she replied, "to follow a Herd
Leader; there is no harm in that."
Into the big, sleepy eyes of Shag crept a pleased look.
"Where go you, Great Bull?" she asked.
"To eat of this Fur Flower my kind Brother, A'tim, has told me
will bring back my coat; a soft, silky coat it was, too."
"Eat of that--that which is the Death Grass growing in the Valley
of the Long Rest! You must wish to die; our Herd Leader, who was
even of your size, Great Bull, ate of it, and died like a
stricken Calf."
"What is this?" demanded Shag, his big, honest eyes turned on
A'tim with a wondering look of unbelief.
"A lie," quoth A'tim; "the Cow is full of a stupid duplicity:
perhaps she even killed this Herd Leader by some trick, and
blames it on the innocent Fur Flower. Does it look like a poison
herb, Wise Bull? Is it like the scraggy Loco Plant of the South
Ranges? Has it not the beautiful blossom of a good herb? Would
Wie-sah-ke-chack, who is wise, put such a tempting coat on a
death plant?"
Shag looked puzzled. Why should A'tim wish him to eat of a Death
Flower; and yet, there was the graze of the Wolf's fang on his
thigh that time they came up out of La Biche River. That surely
had the full flavor of treachery about it. His ponderous mind
worked slowly over the tortuous puzzle.
"I am a stranger here," he said, "and know little of these herbs,
but this Dog-Wolf, who is also an Outcast like myself, has
trailed from the Southland with me, and we have been even as
Brothers. Thinking perhaps that my rough coat was not so fine as
it once was, I listened to the speech of this Dog-Wolf to the end
that this blue-flowered herb will cause the soft, beautiful hair
to grow again."
"It is the Death Flower," declared the Cow with sententious
persistence; "and this Outcast Wolf is a traitor, for if he is
from the Northland he also knows that, even as in the Southland
they know the Loco Plant."
A'tim slunk back nervously and watched Shag with wary caution.
"Do you believe this lie, Shag, my dear Friend? Ghur-r-r-ah! do
you think I would do such a thing? This lone Cow, who is also an
Outcast because of some wrong thing, must be locoed (mad)--even
as every Herd has one such."
"I am wise enough not to eat of the Death Flower, by the
knowledge of our kind. But you can prove all this, Herd
Leader--let the Dog-Wolf eat of this medicine plant, if it be
harmless."
This clever idea pleased the Bull mightily. "Yes, A'tim," he
cried; "the Cow, who is but a Buffalo, and, of course, has not
the great Wolf wisdom, may be mistaken. You who are an eater of
grasses when you are ill, eat of this Fur Flower, as you name it;
then also I will eat in great faith--after a little," he added in
an undertone.
A'tim walked backward a few paces hesitatingly, and, looking
wondrous hurt, said in a deprecating voice: "Ghur-r-rh, eu-h-h! I
have been a friend to you, Lone Bull, even a Brother in solitude;
and now at the word of a stranger, a silly Cow, who having done
some wrong has been outcasted from her Herd, you lose faith in
me, and treat me as a traitor."
Still farther into the tangle of birch and poplar he backed,
saying: "Of course, I couldn't expect you to take my part against
a sleek-hided Buffalo Cow."
With a sudden spring he turned, and barked derisively as he loped
through the forest: "Good-by, bald-hided old Bull; I will bring
harm to you because of this."
"I think you were just in time," said Shag to the Cow; "that
Dog-Wolf meant my death."
Then Shag learned from the Buffalo Cow that she was one of a Herd
of six, and that the Herd was not very far away; that they were
unguarded because of the loss of their Leader through the Death
Flower, even as she had said. Willingly Shag went with her,
making many protestations as to his disreputable appearance, and
the unfitness of his well-worn stub-horns to battle for them; but
he went.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER SIX
A'tim slunk through the forest, his lean body filled with nothing
but the rage of disappointed appetite. "I'm starving!" he gasped;
"Starving! I must have something to eat. By the feast that is in
a dead Buffalo! if that evil-minded Cow had also eaten of the
Death Flower when her Bull did, as she says, I should now be
closer friend than ever with old Shag--Shag, the Fool."
A large dead cottonwood, rotted to the heart till its flesh was
like red earth mould, lay across his path like an unburied
Redskin. "Should be Grub Worms here," muttered A'tim, sniffing
at the moss shroud which clothed the tree corpse. In famine haste
he tore with strong claws at the crumbling mass. One, two, three
large Grubs, full of a white fat, twisted and squirmed at their
rude awakening; the Dog-Wolf swallowed them greedily. "Eu-h-h!
Hi, yi! Such a tiny morsel," he whined plaintively; "they but
give life to the famine pains which were all but dead through
starvation. Wait, you, fool Bull--I'll crack your ribs with my
strong teeth yet! But small as the Grubs are there should be
more."
With swift diligence A'tim excavated, grumblingly, until his
gaunt form was half buried in the hole.
Three Gray Shadows were creeping in stealthy silence upon his
flank; owing to his anxious work A'tim was oblivious to the
approaching trouble.
"E-e-yah!" and quick as a slipping sound that fluttered his ear
A'tim was up on the dead cottonwood, only to find himself peering
into the lurid eyes of a huge Wolf.
Like war stars, four other balls of light gleamed at him from a
close crescent. The Outcast was clever. Surely this was a case
for diplomacy; he had no desire to feed three hungry Wolves with
his thin carcass.
"You startled me, Brothers," he said, grinning nervously.
"I did not mean to," replied the Pack Leader; "my foot slipped on
a wet leaf."
"Ye-e-s--just so," hesitated A'tim in deprecating voice; "so
fortunate--I mean--Brothers, I'm sorry I can't offer you good
eating--there were only three Grubs----"
"Oh, don't mention it!" exclaimed the Wolf; "no doubt we shall
find something for dinner presently--don't you think so,
children?" he asked, turning to the others.
"I was going to say," recommenced the Outcast, "that I could not
ask you to eat just here, but I was actually on my way to invite
you to a big feeding."
The Timber Wolf bared his fangs in a grin of derisive unbelief.
His comrades blinked at one another solemnly. "Was there ever
such a liar?"
A'tim coughed nervously and continued his politic address. "I
heard your powerful bay, Pack Leader, hours ago, as I was
attending to a little trailing matter I had on hand, and resolved
to invite you to the Kill when I had located the trailed one."
[Illustration: "OH, DON'T MENTION IT!" EXCLAIMED THE WOLF; "NO
DOUBT WE SHALL FIND SOMETHING FOR DINNER PRESENTLY."]
"That's good news," answered the Wolf, "for we are wondrous
hungry," and he edged closer to the Outcast.
A'tim shrank into a very small parcel on the log. "I, too,
have been sick for the need of food. I have starved, actually
starved, for a moon; why, I am nothing but skin and bone; the
smallest creature, even a weasel, would find it difficult to
fill his stomach from my lean ribs. Besides, I have eaten off a
plague-stricken Rabbit but a day since, and my blood is on
fire--though there's not much of it, to be sure. I'm filled with
the accursed plague poison--I believe there's enough of it in my
poor, thin body to bring to their death a whole Wolf Pack."
"That's serious!" exclaimed the Gray Wolf; "but you'd die anyway,
so it doesn't matter--I mean, never mind about that just now.
Gh-u-r-r-h! what of this great kill?"
"Well, Brother Wolves----"
"Brother _Wolves_?" questioned the other with a sneer-tinge in
his gruff voice; "thou art overthick in the shoulder for a Wolf."
"I never saw ears like yours on a Wolf, Newcomer," said one of
the youngsters; "they are short and round like those of the
Huskie Dog we ate. Is not that so?" he asked, turning to the
Leader.
"Yes, indeed; we ate him, I'm ashamed to say--for Dog meat is
horrible--but what is one to do when there's naught else in the
Boundaries?"
A'tim shuddered; their merciless eyes gleamed with the ferocity
of famine. Neither his strength nor his speed, which had so
often stood him in good stead, would avail him this time; nothing
but his half-breed duplicity--Wolf cunning and Dog wisdom.
"But I _am_ a Wolf," he reiterated; "else why should I seek your
company at my Kill?"
"We were easily found," sneered the Wolf; "we did not take much
calling, did we? Knowing your desire for our fellowship, we kept
you not waiting--E-a-ah, Lone Dog? But where hunts the Pack that
carry their tails curled over their backs like Train Dogs?"
"It's because of my nervousness--you startled me," pleaded A'tim;
"also my seat is narrow."
"And the big, round feet, Lone Dog? They leave not a Wolf track.
And you're broad in the loin, and heavy in the jowl, and short
in the leg--a Dog, a Hermit Dog, by the knowledge that has come
to me of age."
"I'm a Wolf from the Southland," maintained A'tim. "We shape
different there. Our meat is the flesh of Buffalo, and our Kill
is because of strength, and not speed--therefore we are of a
strong build. You are of the Northland; swift as the wind, and
long running, Great Wolf--you and your beautiful Sons--yet was I
eager for your company at this Kill, which has taken me days to
arrange."
"Buh-h, buh-ha! his great Kill! and here is the killer slaying
fierce, white Wood Grubs--but never mind; what of the Kill, Lone
Dog?"
"What say you to a Buffalo--a fat, young Bull?" asked A'tim,
heaving a sigh of relief; "would not that be a dinner fit for a
great Pack Leader, like yourself?"
"A Buffalo?" queried the Wolf incredulously. "I have heard of
such in these forests, but I come from the North, and have never
seen them--have we, Sons?"
"Never," they answered, closing in on A'tim.
"Even to-day I trailed one, and was on my way to ask you to the
Kill, as is the way of the Wolf kind. I am no Dog, to kill and
eat in secret."
"It's truly noble to feed your friends," declared the Wolf. He
snapped viciously at A'tim's throat with fang-lined jaws. The
Dog-Wolf jumped back nervously.
"Wait, Brothers," he pleaded; "you do not believe me, I see--let
us go together, and if I do not show you this Buffalo, waiting
for the Kill, then--"
"Yes, then--" sneered the Wolf; "if you fail to show us this
Buffalo, then--" He grinned diabolically in A'tim's face.
"E-e-u-h, I know," exclaimed the Dog-Wolf, stepping down gingerly
from the log. "You may keep close; I will show you that I have
spoken no lie."
Together, one Wolf on either side of A'tim and one behind, they
glided along his back trail till they came to the scene of his
caustic farewell to Shag. Suddenly the Pack Leader stopped,
buried his nose in a hoof hole and sniffed with discriminating
intentness.
"If-if-if-fh-h! By my scent, 'tis not Mooswa--nor Caribou. What
say you, sons? Perhaps it is the Buffalo of which the Lone Dog
speaks. Phew-yi, hi! Another trail call. Here are two of these
big-footed creatures, be they Buffalo, or what--you spoke of but
one, Lone Dog; Wolves do not tackle a Herd."
"Only a silly Cow," answered A'tim. "She will flee at the first
blood cry."
The big Wolf softened a trifle. Surely here was prospect of a
mighty Kill. There would be much flesh feeding and blood drinking
till they were gorged. And the Lone Dog would keep. When the
Buffalo were eaten, then--He look grimly at A'tim's attenuated
form. "Not much to tempt one after the sweet meat of a Grass
Feeder," he muttered disconsolately. "How shall we make the Kill,
Lone Dog?" he asked.
"When we have trailed them down watch till they feed apart and
stampede the Cow with a fierce rush full of much cry; then all on
the Bull--two in front, to put them at bay, and two behind with
sharp teeth for the hamstring. That will lay him helpless as a
new Calf."
"Thou art a Leader of Sorts, Lone Dog; but why not the Cow first?
It's an easier task, and better eating."
"Ah, my Brothers, I see you have never run the Kings of the
Prairie. While you were busy with the Cow, what think you the
Bull would be doing--brushing his mane with a wet tongue? His
strong horns, stronger than Wolf tusks, would be ripping your
ribs, and the weight of his huge forehead would be breaking your
backs--flat as a fallen leaf he would crush you. No, no; by my
knowledge of these things, first the Bull--after, the Cow will
be easy."
All this logic, sound though it seemed, was born of A'tim's
desire for revenge upon old Shag for refusing to be murdered.
"Well, it is your Run and your Kill, and to the Trailer the say
of the Kill is our Law," answered the Wolf; "lead us to the
eating, and make haste lest we get too hungry."
But A'tim had started ere the Wolf had finished his implied
threat. Nose to ground, and tail almost as straight as a true
Wolf's, he raced through the ghost forms of silent poplars,
sheared by the autumn winds of their gold-leaf mantle. Over
wooded upland, and through lowland cradling the treacherous
muskeg, spruce-shielded and moss-bedded, he followed the trail of
old Shag and his Cow mate. Ever at his flank, one on either
side, sped the young Wolves, and, lapping their quarters, loped
in easy stride their giant Sire. In the Dog-Wolf's heart were
revenge and the prospect of much eating, and the diplomacy that
was to save his life.
"This strange Run is surely from the hand of Wie-sah-ke-chack,"
muttered the Pack Leader; "and of the end I have no knowledge,
but, by the memory of my long fast, there will be food at the end
of it for me and the Pups."
Through a black cemetery of fire-killed trees, the charred limbs
cracking harshly under their eager feet, they swept. Suddenly
the trail kinked sharply to the right, and the Dog-Wolf,
swift-rushing, overshot it. "E-u-h! at fault," he muttered. "Some
trick of the fool Cow's." Back and forth, back and forth like
Setters the four Killers scurried.
"H-o-o-oh! here away!" cried A'tim, picking it up; and on again
galloped the Gray Hunters.
At Towatano Creek the trail went into the air; at least it was no
longer of the earth. Straight to the south bank it had led, but
on the north there was nothing; nothing but the hoot of a
frightened Arctic Owl that swirled off into the forest because of
their impetuous blood cry.
"They are not wet to their death," cried the Wolf, "for here is
little water."
It was as though the Bisons had crawled into a cave, only there
was no burrow in sight--nothing. A'tim was confused.
"Surely thou art a Dog," cried the Wolf disdainfully; "they have
gone up the water, or they have gone down the water. This is no
young Bull we follow, for he has the wisdom which comes with age;
that, or this Cow has the duplicity of a Mother guarding her
Calf."
"I will search up, and do you seek down," said A'tim.
"Not so," replied the Wolf; "we will stay here together while my
Pups pick up the trail, be it up or down."
Very close to A'tim the huge Wolf sat while his two Sons searched
the opposite bank for the coming out of Shag. Soon a "Hi,
yi--he, he, he-voh-ooh!" came floating dismally up the tortuous
stretch of winding stream. "Come; they have found it," said the
Wolf.
On again, faster and faster, flitted the Gray Shadows in the
waning of the day. All vain had been the precautions of the Cow;
the twisting and doubling, and walking in the water to kill the
scent--all in vain. Nothing would turn these blood-thirsters from
the trail.
"Hurry a little," panted the Wolf from behind. "Gallop, Lone Dog;
gallop, brave Pups; the scent grows strong, and we need light for
our work."
A'tim stretched his thin limbs in eager chase; at his shoulder
now raced the Wolf Pups; the blood fever crept stronger and
stronger into the hot hearts of the Gray Runners. Short yelps
of hungry exultation broke from their dry throats; it was like
the tolling of a death bell; first one and then the other,
"Oo-oo-ooh-ooh!" The dry leaves scurried under their feet,
swirled up by the wind from their rushing bodies. Poplar bluff,
and jack-pine knoll, and spruce thicket, and open patch of
rosebush-matted plain flitted by like the tide of a landscape
through which an express speeds.
Why had this silly Cow and effete old Bull traveled so far? A'tim
wondered. Would they never overtake them?
Suddenly a vibrating bellow echoed through the forest and halted
the Wolf Runners.
"It's the Bull!" cried A'tim triumphantly. "Now, Brothers, we
shall feast. Have I not spoken the truth?"
On again sped the four Killers--the four that were eager of
blood; on through the thicket, and with suddenness out upon a
plain that had been fire-swept years before--a plain wide, and
void of poplar, or spruce, or cottonwood. Only the grass plain,
and on the plain seven Buffalo; a waiting crescent of seven huge
heads lined in symmetrical defense; a little in front old Shag,
and behind, shoulder to shoulder, the others. With a cry of
dismay, A'tim stopped.
"A trick--a trap!" yelped the Wolf.
"I did not know of these," whined A'tim; "but it is nothing. If
we charge boldly they will stampede."
"They will fight," answered the Wolf. "No charge will break a
Wolf Pack, and it will be that way with these, I think."
"The Buffalo are different," lied A'tim. He knew better, but it
was his only hope. Well he knew that if there were no attack his
New Comrades would surely eat him. In the battle many things
might come to pass, his Dog wisdom said; the Wolves might be
killed, or prodded full of a sufficiency of fight; the Buffalo
might stampede, being new to Shag's leadership; or, when the
combat was heavy, he could steal away if he saw it going against
them. Also his desire for revenge on Shag was a potent factor.
"They will surely break if we charge with strength," he declared:
"they are Cows, having no Calves to guard, and each will think
only of her own safety when she hears your fierce cry, Pack
Leader. I, who have lived upon Buffalo in the South, know this.
Why should I say this, being also in the fight, if it were not
true. Come, Brothers, even now they are afraid."
The Buffalo Cows were stamping the young-turfed prairie with
nervous feet. Shag was throwing clouds of dust over his lowered
head, and kinking his tufted tail in battle anger.
"Yes, he will fight," declared A'tim, as Shag snorted and shook
his head defiantly; "he will fight, but that will save much
running, for we shall soon bring him down."
The Wolf Leader weighed the matter with a gravity born of his
long fast. Certainly it appeared worth a battle. If they could
but make one Kill, what a feast it would be! Never had he seen
Grass Feeders of this bulk. Why should he and his Sons, who
were strong fighters, full of the Wolf cunning, dread these
Buffalo who had nothing but horns for defense! No fear of the
fierce-cutting hoof thrust, such as Mooswa gave! And he was
hungry. He looked at the Dog-Wolf with the eye of an epicure;
what miserable eating his thin carcass would make. Much better
this fight for a Buffalo.
"We will charge," he said. "All at the Bull!"
With short, gasping yelps the three Wolves and the Mongrel dashed
at the Herd. The crescent of horned heads swayed a little
irresolutely; but Shag, wise old Leader, Leader of mighty Herds,
Patrician of a thousand kine, who had stood against the fierce
blizzard, and the Foothill Wolves that came down in mighty Packs
seeking the calves that were in his charge,--he who had fought
the young Bulls growing into their strength, and kept them in
subjection until his horns were worn to stubs and of no avail;
whose heart, once aroused, was strong, and knew not of defeat
until it came: this dauntless Monarch of the plain stood firm.
What were four Wolves to him! Let them come.
"This is a Leader!" said the six Cows. "Surely here is no
danger."
"No danger," repeated Shag, hearing their voices; "stand close
and there is no danger."
"Oo-oo-oo-ah, wah, wah, wah!" howled the Wolves and barked the
Dog-Wolf, as almost to the stockade of heavy heads they rushed.
"Circle, Brothers, circle," called the big Wolf, as he swerved to
the right, seeking to turn the flank of the Cow line. Like
trained soldiers the Buffalo crescent swung as the Wolves swung,
Shag always a little in front. With an angry snarl the Leader
dashed at the Buffalo; his two Sons were at his shoulder.
"The Bull! the Bull!" yelped A'tim, crouching to steal under the
giant head, and lay him by the flank.
Famine-braved, the Wolves fought and snapped, and snarled the
Kill cry. Crazed beyond cowardice by the smell of their own
blood, the Cows fenced and thrust, and stood one against the
other--the sharp horns ripped like skinning-knives.
"Ee-e-yah! if I could but do it!" snarled the great Wolf. Ah! he
had her--by the nose! Down to her knees, dragged by the Wolf,
came the Cow that had turned Shag from the Death Flower.
"Yah, yah, yah!" snarled the Wolf joyously through his set teeth,
as the Cow bellowed loud in her agony of terror.
Then something like the falling of a great forest was heard, and
the Buffalo Bull descended upon the Big Wolf and blotted him out
from the light of the world. It was not a question of horns at
all; it was simply a great weight like an avalanche of rock
crushing him into the herbed plain. His grim jaws relaxed their
hold; from ears and nostrils flowed his mighty strength in a red
stream.
Even as Shag charged the Wolf, A'tim had reached for the Cow's
flank! Ah! here was his chance. The Bull's fat throat beckoned to
him from within easy reach. Wah, for his revenge! E-e-uh, for the
throat grip--the throat-cutting hold!