Page:They who walk in the wilds, (IA theywhowalkinwil00robe).pdf/194

 of greed he thrust his face down into the mother's fur, beside the youngster's head. His eager lips found and closed upon the object of their quest, and in a second more he was drawing warm life into his shrunken veins.

At this stage it was beyond McLaggan's power, or wish, to think. The reaction was too exquisite. He drank, and drank, snuggled against the cub. He was warm at last. He was comfortable beyond the utmost dream of comfort. One foolish hand moved up confidingly like a baby's and clutched into the deep fur on the mother's flank. McLaggan, there between the bear's great paws, was dozing off to sleep.

Presently the mother stirred. This unwonted drain upon her resources began to reach her consciousness with its tidings of something out of the ordinary. She lifted her head in a drowsy fashion, craned it about, and sniffed inquiringly at the cub. It was nursing, and whimpered a contented response to her caress. Plainly it was all right. Her great muzzle passed it over, and came in contact with McLaggan's face, glued to one of her teats.

She drew back her muzzle. This was so surprising that she almost woke up. But the hibernating drowsiness was still thick in her veins, clouding her brain. She sniffed at McLaggan again. She did not quite like the smell of him. But on