was the cleverest, the fiercest, and the most merciless of all the
creatures that made up his world.

As Baree lay under his tree, Sekoosew was creeping on his prey. His
game was a big fat spruce hen standing under a thicket of black currant
bushes. The ear of no living thing could have heard Sekoosew's
movement. He was like a shadow--a gray dot here, a flash there, now
hidden behind a stick no larger than a man's wrist, appearing for a
moment, the next instant gone as completely as if he had not existed.
Thus he approached from fifty feet to within three feet of the spruce
hen. That was his favorite striking distance. Unerringly he launched
himself at the drowsy partridge's throat, and his needlelike teeth sank
through feathers into flesh.

Sekoosew was prepared for what happened then. It always happened when
he attacked Napanao, the wood partridge. Her wings were powerful, and
her first instinct when he struck was always that of flight. She rose
straight up now with a great thunder of wings. Sekoosew hung tight, his
teeth buried deep in her throat, and his tiny, sharp claws clinging to
her like hands. Through the air he whizzed with her, biting deeper and
deeper, until a hundred yards from where that terrible death thing had
fastened to her throat, Napanao crashed again to earth.

Where she fell was not ten feet from Baree. For a few moments he looked
at the struggling mass of feathers in a daze, not quite comprehending
that at last food was almost within his reach. Napanao was dying, but
she still struggled convulsively with her wings. Baree rose stealthily,
and after a moment in which he gathered all his remaining strength, he
made a rush for her. His teeth sank into her breast--and not until then
did he see Sekoosew. The ermine had raised his head from the death grip