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208
Animal Heroes
·
Ernest Thompson Seton
91
How
the
wolver
raved
to
see
the
pack
lead
off
in
the
climax
of
the
chase,
and
himself
held
up
behind.
But
he
rode
and
wrathed
and
still
rode,
up
to
where
the
cañon
dwindled--rough
land
and
a
hard
ride.
As
we
neared
the
great
flat
mountain,
the
feeble
cry
of
the
pack
was
heard
again
from
the
south,
then
toward
the
high
Butte's
side,
and
just
a
trifle
louder
now.
We
reined
in
on
a
hillock
and
scanned
the
snow.
A
moving
speck
appeared,
then
others,
not
bunched,
but
in
a
straggling
train,
and
at
times
there
was
a
far
faint
cry.
They
were
headed
toward
us,
coming
on,
yes!
coming,
but
so
slowly,
for
not
one
was
really
running
now.
There
was
the
grim
old
Cow-killer
limping
over
the
ground,
and
far
behind
a
Greyhound,
and
another,
and
farther
still,
the
other
Dogs
in
order
of
their
speed,
slowly,
gamely,
dragging
themselves
on
that
pursuit.
Many
hours
of
hardest
toil
had
done
their
work.
The
Wolf
had
vainly
sought
to
fling
them
off.
Now
was
his
hour
of
doom,
for
he
was
spent;
they
still
had
some
reserve.
Straight
to
us
for
a
time
they
came,
skirting
the
base
of
the
mountain,
crawling.
We
could
not
cross
to
join
them,
so
held
our
breath
and
gazed
with
ravenous
eyes.
They
were
nearer
now,
the
wind
brought
feeble
notes
from
the
Hounds.
The
big
Wolf
turned
to
the
steep
ascent,
up
a
well-known
trail,
it
seemed,
for
he
made
no
slip.
My
heart
went
with
him,
for
he
had
come
back
to
rescue
his
friend,
and
a
momentary
thrill
of
pity
came
over
us
both,
as
we
saw
him
glance
around
and
drag
himself
up
the
sloping
way,
to
die
on
his
mountain.
There
was
no
escape
for
him,
beset
by
fifteen
Dogs
with
men
to
back
them.
He
was
not
walking,
but
tottering
upward;
the
Dogs
behind
in
line,
were
now
doing
a
little
better,
were
nearing
him.
We
could
hear
them
gasping;
we
scarcely
heard
them
bay--they
had
no
breath
for
that;
upward
the
grim
procession
went,
circling
a
spur
of
the
Butte
and
along
a
ledge
that
climbed
and
narrowed,
then
dropped
for
a
few
yards
to
a
shelf
that
reared
above
the
cañon.
The
foremost
Dogs
were
closing,
fearless
of
a
foe
so
nearly
spent.
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