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Updated: May 23, 2025
Hiding themselves under the shade of some bushes, the hunter and his men waited until a fine young heifer galloped madly by them followed by Brunie, and then fired. No less than five of the shots took effect, and poor Brunie's life-blood began to gush out.
For the summer was over; October had come with its autumnal chills and cloudy days, and Brunie's husband had already betaken himself to his winter quarters to commence his long sleep, utterly regardless, and supremely indifferent, as to what became of his wife.
At the same moment that he dealt Brunie the blow, the hunter, with a deft movement, captured one of her cubs, and while Brunie's attention was taken up with the two remaining hunters her little one was carried off.
Brunie's joy was complete at having her cub restored to her, but her head was swimming and her eyes growing dim, and she groped in vain through the gathering darkness to catch a glimpse of her little one. She was lying at full length, with one huge paw stretched out towards the cub in a peculiarly pathetic manner, and panting her life out when the hunter and his men came up.
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