Page:They who walk in the wilds, (IA theywhowalkinwil00robe).pdf/221

 forth upon the snow, and staggered off. His three companions, taken aback at this evidence of a moose's fighting powers, sprang discreetly out of reach. They paused for a moment to glare at their hoped-for victim, then galloped after their wounded fellow, threw themselves upon him, and tore him to pieces. A wounded wolf, in their eyes, was of no use whatever except to afford his kinsmen a meal. Having finished their cannibalistic repast they turned their tails upon the moose-yard, and loped away through the gathering violet dusk to look for hunting less perilous and more profitable.

When spring drew near, heralded by melting rains and swift thaws and ardent suns, the deep snow shrank with amazing speed. The air grew musical with the sound of myriad unseen rivulets, mining their tunnels beneath the vast white overlay. The buds on poplar, willow and birch grew succulent and aromatic, waiting the hour to burst into a film of green. The moose became restless, breaking new paths ever wider and wider afield to sample the freshening provender. Presently their impudent little pensioners, the moose-birds, forsook them, pair by pair, intent on new enterprise in the reawakening world. Soon afterwards, when the grey, decaying snow