Now they came to where the moose had made a stand. Thricethe length of a grown man’s body， in every direction， had thesnow been stamped about and uptossed. In the midst were thedeep impressions of the splay-hoofed game， and all about，everywhere， were the lighter footmarks of the wolves. Some，while their brothers harried the kill， had lain to one side andrested. The full-stretched impress of their bodies in the snowwas as perfect as though made the moment before. One wolfhad been caught in a wild lunge of the maddened victim andtrampled to death. A few bones， well picked， bore witness.
Again， they ceased the uplift of their snowshoes at a secondstand. Here the great animal had fought desperately. Twice hadhe been dragged down， as the snow attested， and twice had heshaken his assailants clear and gained footing once more. Hehad done his task long since， but none the less was life dear tohim. Zing-ha said it was a strange thing， a moose once downto get free again； but this one certainly had. The shaman wouldsee signs and wonders in this when they told him.
And yet again， they come to where the moose had made tomount the bank and gain the timber. But his foes had laid onfrom behind， till he reared and fell back upon them， crushingtwo deep into the snow. It was plain the kill was at hand， fortheir brothers had left them untouched. Two more stands werehurried past， brief in time-length and very close together. Thetrail was red now， and the clean stride of the great beast hadgrown short and slovenly. Then they heard the first sounds ofthe battle—not the full-throated chorus of the chase， but theshort， snappy bark which spoke of close quarters and teethto flesh. Crawling up the wind， Zing-ha bellied it through thesnow， and with him crept he， Koskoosh， who was to be chiefof the tribesmen in the years to come. Together they shovedaside the under branches of a young spruce and peered forth. Itwas the end they saw.
The picture， like all of youth’s impressions， was still strongwith him， and his dim eyes watched the end played out asvividly as in that far-off time. Koskoosh marvelled at this， forin the days which followed， when he was a leader of men anda head of councillors， he had done great deeds and made hisname a curse in the mouths of the Pellys， to say naught of thestrange white man he had killed， knife to knife， in open fight.
For long he pondered on the days of his youth， till the firedied down and the frost bit deeper. He replenished it with twosticks this time， and gauged his grip on life by what remained.
If Sit-cum-to-ha had only remembered her grandfather， andgathered a larger armful， his hours would have been longer. Itwould have been easy. But she was ever a careless child， andhonored not her ancestors from the time the Beaver， son of theson of Zing-ha， first cast eyes upon her. Well， what mattered it？
Had he not done likewise in his own quick youth？ For a whilehe listened to the silence. Perhaps the heart of his son mightsoften， and he would come back with the dogs to take his oldfather on with the tribe to where the caribou ran thick and thefat hung heavy upon them.
He strained his ears， his restless brain for the moment stilled.
Not a stir， nothing. He alone took breath in the midst of thegreat silence. It was very lonely. Hark！ What was that？ A chillpassed over his body. The familiar， long-drawn howl broke thevoid， and it was close at hand. Then on his darkened eyes wasprojected the vision of the moose—the old bull moose—thetorn flanks and bloody sides， the riddled mane， and the greatbranching horns， down low and tossing to the last. He saw theflashing forms of gray， the gleaming eyes， the lolling tongues，the slavered fangs. And he saw the inexorable circle close in tillit became a dark point in the midst of the stamped snow.
A cold muzzle thrust against his cheek， and at its touch hissoul leaped back to the present. His hand shot into the fire anddragged out a burning faggot. Overcome for the nonce by hishereditary fear of man， the brute retreated， raising a prolongedcall to his brothers； and greedily they answered， till a ring ofcrouching， jaw-slobbered gray was stretched round about. Theold man listened to the drawing in of this circle. He wavedhis brand wildly， and sniffs turned to snarls； but the pantingbrutes refused to scatter. Now one wormed his chest forward，dragging his haunches after， now a second， now a third； butnever a one drew back. Why should he cling to life？ he asked，and dropped the blazing stick into the snow. It sizzled andwent out. The circle grunted uneasily， but held its own. Againhe saw the last stand of the old bull moose， and Koskooshdropped his head wearily upon his knees. What did it matterafter all？ Was it not the law of life？