"Quite true," concurred s.h.a.g. "We must go on until you also have food, my friend."

It was coming up the bank out of La Biche River that A'tim, perfectly mad with hunger, made a vicious snap at the Bull's leg, just above the hock, meaning to hamstring him. s.h.a.g flipped about and faced the Dog Wolf.

"What is this, A'tim?" he demanded, lowering his horns and stamping in vexed restlessness.

"A big fly of the Bull-Dog kind. I snapped at him, and in my eagerness grazed your leg."

s.h.a.g tossed his huge head unbelievingly, and snorted through his dilated nostrils. "There are no Bull-Dogs now, A'tim; they were killed off days since by the white-striped Hornets."

"There was one, s.h.a.g--at least I thought so, Great Bull."

"Well, don't think again--just that way. Once bitten is twice shy with me; and, as you see, I carry the Tribe mark of your Wolf-kind in my thigh since the time I was a Calf."

"Ghur-r-r! Of the Wolf-kind, quite true, Great Bull--that is their way; but I, who am no Wolf, but a Dog, do not seek to hamstring my friends."

The Bull answered nothing, but as they journeyed watched his companion carefully.

"Dreadfully foolish!" mused A'tim. "I must coax this stupid Bull into a muskeg; his big carca.s.s will keep me alive through all the Cold Time."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER FIVE

They were now well within the treacherous muskeg lands which border the Athabasca; and that very night, while s.h.a.g slumbered in the deep sleep of a full age, A'tim, whose lean stomach tugged at his eyelids and kept them open, stole off into the forest, and searched by the strong light of the moon for a bog that would mire his comrade to death.

An open piece of swamp land, fringed by tamarack and slim-bodied spruce, promised fair for his scheme. Back and forth, back and forth over its cushion of deep moss he pa.s.sed, seeking for a treacherous place--a place wherein s.h.a.g would sink to the belly; where the sand-mud would grasp his legs like soft chains and hold him to his death, but not engulf the body--that must remain for A'tim's eating.

"Euh-h! the very thing!" he exclaimed joyously, as his foot sank deep in soft slime. "Yes, indeed, the very spot. Now must I cover up its black mud so that the blurred eyes of old s.h.a.g will see only a fair trail, not over ankle-deep."

For an hour he labored with rare villainy, carrying bunches of moss to cover up the black ooze, that was not more than twenty feet broad; even small willow wands and coa.r.s.e rush gra.s.s he placed under the moss, so that he himself, light-footed as a cat, might cross ahead of the unsuspicious Bull, and lure him to his death. "There," he said finally, as he sat on his haunches and rested for a minute, looking like a ghoul in the ghostly moonlight, "I think that's a trick worthy of my Wolf cunning."

Then he hastened back to the other Outcast.

s.h.a.g was awake and heard the Dog-Wolf creep to his side. "Where have you been, A'tim?" he asked sleepily.

"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 s.h.a.g.

"It was nothing--nothing but a Lynx or some prowling animal."

s.h.a.g 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. "We shall only have another day or two of this weary tramp," he said, "for the air is full of the perfume of living things; also things that are dead, for yonder, high in the air, float three Birds of the Vulture kind. I shall be in the land of much eating to-day or to-morrow, I know."

"I am glad of that," answered s.h.a.g heartily; "I am tired of this long tramp--my bones ache from it."

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 gra.s.s 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 s.h.a.g.

"Quite safe," answered the Dog-Wolf; "there is not a mud spot to be seen--you will scarce wet a shin. I will go ahead and warn you should it so happen that there be a soft hole; follow close in my track."

"Lough-hu! lough-hu!" grunted the Bull at the first step in the muskeg, as his foot cushioned in the deep moss: "this is like walking on the White Storm." Ere he could take another step a startled, "Mouah! Mouah!" struck on his ear. It was the call of his own kind; and whipping about in an instant, he saw, staring at him from the tamarack fringe, a Buffalo Cow.

Where had she come from? It was the G.o.d of Chance that had sent her to save the unsuspicious, n.o.ble old Bull, only he did not know that--how could he? "Perhaps she is an Outcast like myself,"

he muttered, advancing eagerly to caress her forehead with his tongue.

"Come back, s.h.a.g," called the Dog-Wolf, seeing the destruction of his plan; "come back to the sweet feeding; that is but a disgraced Cow, outcasted from some Herd."

Startled by the bark of the Dog-Wolf, or perhaps by the ungainly garb of the hairless, manged Bull, the Cow turned and fled.

Excited into activity, s.h.a.g galloped after her, his huge feet making the forest echo with the crack of smashing timber as he slid through the bush like an avalanche; but the Cow was swift of foot, and pig-jinked around stumps and over timber, and down coulees and up hills until s.h.a.g was fairly blown and forced to give up the pursuit.

"Was there ever such a queer happening?" exclaimed s.h.a.g, staring after the vanished figure of the Cow. A'tim had followed with eager gallop, inwardly reviling the ill luck which had s.n.a.t.c.hed from him the mighty Kill of the fat Bull. The Cow Buffalo was, perhaps, only one of those spirit animals that prowl at night and utter strange cries.

Also had they galloped miles past the muskeg trap, and A'tim dared not take the Bull back; some new plan must be devised for his destruction.

"Where did she come from?" puffed s.h.a.g, his froth-covered tongue lolling from between big, thick lips; "where did she come from, A'tim, you who know the Northland forests?"

"She's a Wood Buffalo," answered the Dog-Wolf.

"What's a Wood Buffalo?" asked s.h.a.g.

"They are even as yourself, Great Bull; driven from the plains by the many-breathed Fire-stick, they have come to this good Range of the Northland. They go not in Herds, but few together, as Mooswa and others of the forest."

"Why did she run away, Brother A'tim?" grunted s.h.a.g, lying down to rest.

The Dog-Wolf laughed disagreeably. "That is but the way of the Cow kind," he answered.

"No," said s.h.a.g decisively; "she was frightened."

"She was," a.s.sented A'tim; "Ghur-r-r! I should say so."

"At what?" asked s.h.a.g.

"Forgive me, Brother, but most a.s.suredly she was frightened by you."

"By me--am I not of her kind?"

"Yes, but how should she know? Are you like a Buffalo, s.h.a.g? Your hide is bare and scarred, and perhaps she took you for some evil thing."

s.h.a.g looked ruefully at his great, scraggy sides, so like an Elephant's, only more disreputable, and sighed resignedly; "I suppose I can't help it," he muttered.