match the whiteness of its surroundings, finicked up one of the still,
silent forest lanes towards him, stopped, faced half-round, sat
"frozen" for a fraction, and vanished as if it were a puff of
wind-caught snow. (And, really, one had no idea till now that the
always apparently lifeless forest could have been so full of life in
the dark hours.)

But all these things made no difference to the wolverine, to Gulo,
though he "froze" with habitual care to watch them--for your wild
creature rarely takes chances. Details must never be overlooked in the
wild. He dug on, and in digging came right to the _cache_, roofed and
anchored all down, safe beyond any invasion, with tree-trunks.
And--and, mark you, not being able to pull tree-trunks out of the
ground, and being too large to squeeze between them, he gnawed through
one! Gnawed through it, he did, and came down to the bazaar below.

So far, he had been only beast. Now we see why I said he had more
brains than were good for any animal except man.

He bit through the canvas, or whatever it was that protected the
_cached_ articles. He got his head inside. He felt about
purposefully, and backed out, dragging a trap with him. With it he
removed into the inky shadows, and it was never found again.

He returned. He thrust his head in a second time, got hold of
something, and backed out. It was another trap, and with it he
vanished also; and it, too, was never found. He returned, and went,
and a third trap went with him.

The fourth investigation revealed an ax. It he partly buried. The