The Way of the Wild | Page 5

clan of wolverine, and to be bent upon
trampling Gulo to death.
Gulo watched it for about one quarter of a second. Then he quitted, and
the speed he had put up previously was nothing to that which he
showed now--uselessly. And, far behind him, the man in the sleigh
drew out his rifle from under the fur rugs. He judged that the time had
about come. The end was very near.
But he judged wrong. Gulo made the wood at length. With eyes of dull
red, and breath coming in short, rending sobs, he got in among the trees.
He did it, though the feat seemed impossible, for the trees had been so
very far away. Got in among the trees--yes, but dead-beat, and--to what
end? To be "treed" ignominiously and calmly shot down, picked off
like a squirrel on a larch-pole. That was all. And that was the orthodox
end, the end the man took for granted.
In a few minutes the horse was in the forest too, was close behind Gulo.
In spite of the muffling effect of snow, his expectant ears could hear the
quadruple thud of the galloping hoofs, and--
Hup! Whuff! Biff-biff! Grrrrrr! Grr-ur-ururrh! Grrrr-urr!
It had all happened quick as a flash of light. A huge, furry, reeking
mass rising right in the wolverine's path from behind a tree, towering
over him, almost mountainous to his eyes, like the very shape of doom!
Himself hurling sideways, and rolling over and over, snarling, to
prevent the crowning disaster of collision with this terrible portent! A
blow, two blows, with enormous paws whose claws gleamed like
skewers, whistling half-an-inch above his ducked head! Jaws,

monstrous and wet, grabbing at him in enraged confusion, and
rumblings deep down in the inside of the thing that ran cold
lightning-sparks all up his spine. That was what Gulo saw and heard.
The wolverine rolled, clawing and biting, three times, and without a
pause sprang to his feet again, and leapt madly clear, stumbled on a
hidden tree-root, rolled over again twice, and up, and hurled, literally
with his last gasp and effort, headlong through the air behind a
tree-bole, where he remained all asprawl and motionless, except for his
heaving sides, too utterly done at last for any terror to move him.
There followed instantly a horse's wild snort; another; a shout; the
crack of a rifle cutting the silence as a knife cuts a taut string; another
crack; an awful, hoarse growl; the furious thudding of horse's hoofs
stampeding and growing fainter and fainter; and an appalling series of
receding, short, coughing, terrifying, grunting roars. Then silence and
utter stillness only, and the cold, calm moon staring down over all.
Gulo picked himself up after a bit, and slouched round the tree to
investigate. He found tracks there, and blood; and the tracks were the
biggest footprints of a bear--a brown bear--that he had ever come
across, and I suppose that he must have sniffed at a few in his time.
Presumably the man had fired at the bear when the startled horse shied.
Presumably, too, the bear was hit. He had gone straight away in the
track of horse and man, anyway, and--he had saved the wolverine's life,
after, with paw and teeth, doing his best to end it. Possibly he had been
disturbed in the process of making his winter home.
Gulo lay low, or hunted very furtively, after that for some time, until it
was little less dark in the east than it had been, and the gaunt
tree-trunks were standing out a fraction from the general gloom. The
moon had apparently nearly burnt itself out. Still, it yet appeared to be
night.
Gulo was a long way out of his own hunting-district, and guessed that it
was about time for him to get himself out of sight. He had a passionate
hatred of the day, by the way, even beyond most night hunters.

On the way he smelt out and dug up a grouse beneath the snow.
Dawn found him, or, rather, failed to find him, hidden under a tangled
mass that was part windfall, part brush-wood, and part snow. The place
had belonged to a fox the night before, and that red worthy returned
soon after dawn. He thrust an inquiring sharp muzzle inside, took one
sniff, and, with every hair alift, retired in haste, without waiting to hear
the villainous growl that followed him. The smell was enough for
him--a most calamitous stink.
It snowed all that day, and things grew quieter and quieter, except in
the tree-tops, where the wind spoke viciously between its teeth. When
Gulo came out that evening, he had to dig part of the way, and he
viewed a still and silent, white world, under a sky like