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The Voice of the Pack

Chapter 5 No.5

Word Count: 3407    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

ing that he noticed about her was her stride. The girls he knew didn't walk in quite that free, strong way. She took almost a man-size step; and yet it was curious that she did not seem ungracef

many harshening influences in this wild place. Yet the tone was as clear and full as a trained singer's. It was not a high voice; and yet it seemed simply br

ace. And so it came about, whether in dreams or wakeful

est approach to the perfect physical body that nature intended, and which is the flawless example of the type that composes the race. Thus a typical feature is the most beautiful, and by this reasoning a composite picture of all the young girl faces in the Anglo-Saxon

her limbs, and the grace of a deer to her carriage. Whether she had regular features or not Dan would have been unable to state. He didn't even notice. They weren't important when health was present. Yet there was nothing of the coarse or bold o

ndantly evident that beyond a few girlish speculations she felt no interest in him. After a single moment of rather strained, polite conversation with Dan-ju

eight. He wanted to see its effect on the flushed cheeks, the soft dark hair. And then, standing in the shadows, he simply watched her. With the eye o

they looked very dark, as if the pines had been reflected in them all day and the image had not yet faded out. But in an instant the shadow fli

ith amused tolerance. And Dan,-he didn't know in just what way he did look at her. And he didn't have time to decide

such sudden motions as that I'll have

which men have learned to expect in the voices of women. And an instant late

r the door was closed behind the departing girl. He laughed weakly and begged their pardon; and the two men were really very gentl

warning, it simply blinked out. Not until the next morning did he really know why. Insomnia was an old acquaintance of Dan's, and he had expected to have some trouble in gett

t exploded. "You sleep

had surely happened to his insomnia. The next instant he even forgot to wonder about it in the realization that his t

out thirty-forty caliber,-a gun that the information department of the large sporting-goods store in Gitcheapolis

fine art of marksmanship consists partly in the finer sighting,-the instinctive realization of just what fraction of the front sight should be visible through the rear. But

the sights. One quarter of a second's delay will usually disturb the aim. There must be no muscular jerk as the trigger is pressed. Shooting was never a sport for blasted nerves.

me up naturally to his shoulder. Lennox scarcely had to tell him how to rest the butt and to drop his chin as he aimed. He began to loo

e replied to Lennox's cheer. "You see, I aim

gular thing that he aimed longer and tried harder on this shot than on the fir

e demanded. "I'm getti

k you're trying too hard. Take it easier-depend more on your instincts. Some marksmen are born good shots and cook thems

der, glance quickly along the trigger, and fire. The b

at last. "Was I mistaken in thinking you were a born tenderfoot-after all? Can it be that a

e bullet was a little nearer the center.

effectively on the breech. He

have been only child's play to an experienced hunter; but to a tenderfoot it was the difficult mark indeed. Twice out of four shots Dan hit the tree trunk, an

p and lifting pointed ears. There is no more graceful action in the whole animal world than this first, startled spring of a frightened buck. Then old Woof, feeding in the berry bushes, heard the sound too. Woof has considerably more understanding than most of the wild inhabitants of the forest, and maybe that is why he left his banquet and started falling all over his awkward self in descending the

lity to freeze into a motionless thing, so the sharpest eye can scarcely detect him in the thickets. It is an advantage in hunting, and it is an even greater advantage when b

h the great exception of scent, are not as perfectly developed as those of a human being. A wolf can see better than a man in the darkness, but not nearly as far in the daylight. But the wolves knew this sound. Too many times they had seen their pack-fellows die in the snow when such a report as this, only intensified a th

nd it is certainly true that in the deep, winter snows not even the wolves would have heeded the sound. The snows bring Famine; and when Famine comes to keep its sentr

y mountain lions and their smaller cousins, the lynx-all devoted at least an instant of concentrated attention to it. A raccoon, sleeping in a pine, opened it

he coyote, gray and strange and foam-lipped, on the hillside. Graycoat could hear nothing but strange whinings and voices that rang ever in his ears. All other sounds were obscured. The reason was extremely simple. In the dog days a certain malady sometimes

mean timidity. Timidity is a trait of the deer, a gift of nature for self-preservation, and no one holds it against them. In fact, it makes them rather appealing. Cowardice is a lack of moral courage to remain and fight when nature has afforded the necessary weapons to fight w

the cogs of a machine, and strength to make the air hum under his paw as he strikes it down. And so it is an extremely disappointing thing to see either of these animals flee in terror from an Airedale not half their size,-a sight that most mountain men see rather o

mply petrifies him with terror. And a rifle report,-he has been known to put a large part of a county between himself and the source of the sound in the shortest possible time. If a mountain man feels like fighting, h

e his foes, will often refrain from howling even in the greatest agony. He is simply too proud. A moose greatly dislikes to appear to run away in the presence of enemies. He will walk with the dignity of a bishop until he thinks the brush

s of the forest he would soon have precious few of them left-but he also eats old shoes off rubbish piles. Unlike the wolf, he does not even find his courage in the famine times. He has

thickets, barking and howling and snapping at invisible enemies, with foam dropping from his terrible lips. His eyes grow yellow and strange. And this is the time that even the bull elk turns off his trail

s. And the forest creatures, from the smallest to the great, fo

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