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Updated: May 24, 2025
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."
Also had they galloped miles past the muskeg trap, and A'tim dared not take the Bull back; some new plan must be devised for his destruction. "Where did she come from?" puffed Shag, his froth-covered tongue 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.
For into his quick Wolf brain came the safety thought that should the pursuing hunter sight Shag he would follow, and let the bacon go. As the Man galloped he unslung a gun, and fired at the fleeing Dog-Wolf. A little sputter of dust drove into the nostrils of A'tim as a trade ball spat in his face and buried itself in front of him.
The carnage had sent Shag's life back a score of years; the battle heat warmed his old blood until it coursed with the fire of fighting youth; he was a young Bull again, full of the glorious supple strength that had been his as chief gladiator of all the prairie arena: that was why A'tim fell short as he reached for the death hold.
"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?
Shag said nothing; he was angry at the selfish heartlessness of the other Outcast. It seemed hardly a fair recognition of the service he had rendered the Dog-Wolf when he prodded the Bear from his throat. "Come, let us be moving," he said; "we must find another crossing." "Oh! but I feel years younger," cried A'tim joyfully, as they headed again for Battle River. "Euh-euh-euh-euh!
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."
There, too, was Wapoos, the Hare so easily caught in the years of plenty, and A'tim need never feel the pangs of a collapsing stomach. There also were Marten, and Grouse, and Pheasant, and Kit Beaver, and other animals sweet against the tongue.
"There is to be a big Run to-morrow a mighty Kill," said A'tim, growing tired of the old Bull's reminiscent wail. "Where?" queried the other. "At Stone Hill Corral. Eagle Shoe says they will kill five hundred head." "I know," sighed Shag "at the Pound; I know that death-trap. Half a Herd I lost there once through the conceit of a young Bull hardly out of the Spike Horn age.
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.
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