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Updated: June 9, 2025
"I heard a strange noise in the forest, and thought perhaps some evil Hunter had followed your big trail; fearing for your safety, Brother, I went to see what it was." "And?" queried Shag. "It was nothing nothing but a Lynx or some prowling animal." Shag was already snoring heavily again, and the Dog-Wolf, tired by his exertion, also soon slumbered. Next morning A'tim was in rare good humor.
Talking almost incessantly to distract the other's attention, A'tim led the way straight for his muskeg trap. "There is some lovely blue-joint grass on the other side of this beautiful little plain," he said as they came to the tamarack border of the swamp. "Is it safe crossing?" asked Shag. "Quite safe," answered the Dog-Wolf; "there is not a mud spot to be seen you will scarce wet a shin.
The next day they trailed again toward the Northland. When they came to a river that was to be forded Shag carried the Dog-Wolf on his back; when there was presence of danger, a suspicious horseman, Shag curled up like a boulder, or crouched in a coulee, and if the Man came too near A'tim led him away on a hopeless chase.
Or man who took you from wild Nature and made you more defenceless under his keeping? Or Nature herself who edged the tooth and the mind of the dog-wolf in the beginning that he might lengthen his life by shortening yours? Where and with what purpose began on this planet the taking of life that there might be life? Poor questions that never troubled you, poor sheep!
Yet it were a droll study in egoism to consider these two one an assassin and a robber, standing above his victim; the other baser in his offences, if a lesser law-breaker, lying, abhorred, in the house of the wife he had persecuted, spoiled, and smitten, one a tiger, the other a dog-wolf to consider each of them sickening at the foulness of the other; and each flourishing out of the mire of his manifest guilt his own immaculate standard of conduct, if not of honor.
"I saw one yesterday," replied A'tim. "Aye, Brother, and he saw you, too." "Else I had eaten him," added the Dog-Wolf. "A Coyote?" asked Shag incredulously; "eat a Coyote? Impossible! No animal ever ate a Coyote!" "No animal was ever so hungry as I was yesterday before Wie-sah-ke led me to the Fat Bacon."
Great patches of feed-land waved silver gray with a tasseled spread of seeding grasses. Oh! but they were coming into a land of much growth. Shag the Bull lowed in soft content as he rested full-bellied on the black-loamed prairie. All the time A'tim was but thinking of something to kill, something to eat. That was as they came to Egg Lake. "Trail slowly, kind Brother," admonished the Dog-Wolf.
I remember, at Pot Hole, which is a deep coulee, and has always been a great shelter to us in such times, on one side was some grass still bare of the White Storm; but the Buffalo were so many they ate it as locusts might quicker than I tell it. As I have said, Dog-Wolf, I lived for a month off the fat that was in my loins about the kidneys, for I had never a bite to eat.
The coyote uttered a shrill cry, and almost immediately a sixth came and stood by her. "Don't fire till I tell you," said I to Lucien, who seemed as bold as possible. "You take the dog-wolf," cried Sumichrast to me; "but we won't provoke the contest." Seeing us evince no fear, the brutes suddenly made off. Sumichrast descended to the bottom of the ravine, and then called me.
The well-blown Dog-Wolf came back carrying a Hare. "Hardly worth the trouble," he said disdainfully, laying the fluffy figure down at Shag's feet. "Now I know of a surety why the Flesh Feeders have fled the Boundaries; it is the Plague Year of Wapoos. This thing that should be fat, and of tender juiciness, is but a skin full of bones; there are even the plague lumps in his throat.
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