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.