Followers of the Trail | Page 9

winging their way back to the hive.
The red gleam faded from Mokwa's eyes as he followed their flight;
then he broke into a shuffling run as he came within sight of the tree to
which the bees were converging from all directions.
About half way up the great trunk Mokwa's eyes discovered a hole
which he knew at once to be the mouth of the hive. He quickly climbed
the tree on the side opposite the hole, peering cautiously around until
he had reached a point directly opposite the hive. Then, craftily
reaching one paw around the tree, with his claws he ripped off a great
section of bark, disclosing a mass of bees and reeking comb.
At once the bees seemed to go mad. Their angry buzzing filled the air,
but failed to strike terror to the heart of the robber. His thick fur
rendered him immune to their fiery darts, though he was careful to
protect his one vulnerable spot, the tender tip of his nose. In another
moment he would have been enjoying the feast had he not discovered
something which caused the hair to rise along his back and his eyes to
glow with hate.
Advancing from the opposite direction was another bear, a bear larger
than Mokwa and scarred with the evidences of many battles, a bear
who trod the forest with a calm air of ownership. Across Mokwa's mind
flashed the memory of a certain tree with his own signature the highest
save one. The owner of that one was now approaching with the evident

intention of claiming the sweet prize.
Mokwa's anger rose. He scrambled from the tree and, with a savage
roar, was upon his rival almost before the latter had become aware of
his presence. And then occurred a memorable battle, a battle for
sovereignty and the freedom of the trails. Mokwa's rival was the larger
of the two, but Mokwa had the advantage of youth. Sounds of the fray
penetrated far into the woods. Delicate flowers and vigorous young
saplings were trampled underfoot; timid little wild creatures watched
with fast beating hearts, ready for instant retreat should they be
observed, while above their heads the bees were busy carrying the
exposed honey to a safer hiding-place.
Back and forth the combatants surged. For a time it was impossible to
judge to whom the victory would go; but at length youth began to tell.
The older bear was pushed steadily back. At last, torn and bleeding, his
breath coming in laboring gasps, he turned and beat a retreat, far from
the domain of the bear whose claim he had preëmpted.
[Illustration: And then occurred a memorable battle.]
Mokwa, too exhausted to follow, glared after him until he had vanished
among the trees; then, much the worse for his fight, he turned again to
the spoils, now doubly his by the right of conquest as well as of
discovery. The owners of the hive, too busy to molest him, went on
about their work of salvaging the contents and Mokwa made a
wonderful meal, although he licked up a number of bees in his
eagerness for the honey. Then, glutted with the feast, he crept away to
lick his bruises and recover from the fray.
Mokwa fell asleep with the pleasant assurance that no more would the
hated signature appear above his own on the hemlock trunk. The spring
had called him to great adventure, but the summer had led him home
and left him master of the forest.

THE ADVENTURES OF KAGH, THE PORCUPINE

As the moon swung clear of the pointed fir tops and shone full upon a
tall spruce tree in the wilderness, a dark object, looking not unlike a
great bird's nest upon one of the branches, suddenly came to life. Kagh,
the porcupine, had awakened from his dreamless slumber and, though
scarce two hours had elapsed since his last satisfying meal upon tender
poplar shoots, he decided that it was time to eat. With a dry rustling of
quills and scratching of sharp claws upon the bark, he scrambled
clumsily down the tree. Then, with an air of calm fearlessness which
few of the wilderness folk can assume, he set off toward the east, his
short legs moving slowly and awkwardly as if unaccustomed to travel
upon the ground.
Now, when Kagh left the spruce tree, it seemed he had in mind a
definite goal; yet he had not gone far when his movements took on the
aimlessness characteristic of most of a porcupine's wanderings. Here
and there he paused to browse upon a young willow shoot or to sniff
inquiringly at the base of some great tree. Once he turned sharply aside
to poke an inquisitive nose into a prostrate, hollow log, where a meal of