soften, and he would come back with the dogs to take his old father on
with the tribe to where the caribou ran thick and the fat 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 the great silence.
It was very lonely. Hark! What was that? A chill passed over his body.
The familiar, long-drawn howl broke the void, and it was close at
hand. Then on his darkened eyes was projected the vision of the
moose--the old bull moose--the torn flanks and bloody sides, the
riddled mane, and the great branching horns, down low and tossing to
the last. He saw the flashing forms of gray, the gleaming eyes, the
lolling tongues, the slavered fangs. And he saw the inexorable circle
close in till it became a dark point in the midst of the stamped snow.

A cold muzzle thrust against his cheek, and at its touch his soul
leaped back to the present. His hand shot into the fire and dragged
out a burning faggot. Overcome for the nonce by his hereditary fear of
man, the brute retreated, raising a prolonged call to his brothers;
and greedily they answered, till a ring of crouching, jaw-slobbered
gray was stretched round about. The old man listened to the drawing
in of this circle. He waved his brand wildly, and sniffs turned to
snarls; but the panting brutes refused to scatter. Now one wormed his
chest forward, dragging his haunches after, now a second, now a third;
but never a one drew back. Why should he cling to life? he asked, and
dropped the blazing stick into the snow. It sizzled and went out. The
circle grunted uneasily, but held its own. Again he saw the last stand
of the old bull moose, and Koskoosh dropped his head wearily upon his
knees. What did it matter after all? Was it not the law of life?