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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
78
They
paused
at
the
telephone
box
on
the
hill
and
again
at
the
old
cottonwood
root,
and
were
making
for
the
river
when
the
Hawk
in
the
trap
fluttered
his
wings.
The
old
Wolf
turned
toward
him,-a
wounded
bird
on
the
ground
surely,
and
she
rushed
forward.
Sun
and
sand
soon
burn
all
trail-scents;
there
was
nothing
to
warn
her.
She
sprang
on
the
flopping
bird
and
a
chop
of
her
jaws
ended
his
troubles,
but
a
horrid
sound--the
gritting
of
her
teeth
on
steel--told
her
of
peril.
She
dropped
the
Hawk
and
sprang
backward
from
the
dangerous
ground,
but
landed
in
the
second
trap.
High
on
her
foot
its
death-grip
closed,
and
leaping
with
all
her
strength,
to
escape,
she
set
her
fore
foot
in
another
of
the
lurking
grips
of
steel.
Never
had
a
trap
been
so
baited
before.
Never
was
she
so
unsuspicious.
Never
was
catch
more
sure.
Fear
and
fury
filled
the
old
Wolf's
heart;
she
tugged
and
strained,
she
chewed
the
chains,
she
snarled
and
foamed.
One
trap
with
its
buried
log,
she
might
have
dragged;
with
two,
she
was
helpless.
Struggle
as
she
might,
it
only
worked
those
relentless
jaws
more
deeply
into
her
feet.
She
snapped
wildly
at
the
air;
she
tore
the
dead
Hawk
into
shreds;
she
roared
the
short,
barking
roar
of
a
crazy
Wolf.
She
bit
at
the
traps,
at
her
cub,
at
herself.
She
tore
her
legs
that
were
held;
she
gnawed
in
frenzy
at
her
flank,
she
chopped
off
her
tail
in
her
madness;
she
splintered
all
her
teeth
on
the
steel,
and
filled
her
bleeding,
foaming
jaws
with
clay
and
sand.
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