but the man who had thrown it, upon whom he must wipe out the
affront. His hunger was all forgotten in red rage.

Fortunate it was now for the tall woodsman that he had lived
abstemiously and laboured sanely all that winter, and could depend
upon both wind and limb. Fortunate, too, that on the open trail, cut
years before by the lumbermen of the Big Fork Drive, the snow was
already almost gone, so that it did not seriously impede his running.
He ran almost like a caribou, with enough in reserve to be able to
glance back over his shoulder from time to time. But seeing how
implacable was the black bulk that pursued, he could not help thinking
what would happen, there in the great, wet, shadow-mottled solitudes,
if he should chance to trip upon a root, or if his wind should fail
him before he could reach the camp. At this thought, not fear, but a
certain disgust and impotent resentment, swelled his heart; and with a
challenging look at the ancient trunks, the familiar forest aisles,
the high, branch-fretted blue, bright with spring sunshine, he defied
the wilderness, which he had so long loved and ruled, to turn upon him
with such an unspeakable betrayal.

The wilderness loves a master; and the challenge was not accepted. No
root tripped his feet, nor did his wind fail him; and so he came out,
with the bear raging some ten paces behind his heels, upon the banks
of the Big Fork. Once across that quarter-mile of sloppy, rotting ice,
he knew there was good, clear running to his cabin and his gun. His
heart rose, his resentment left him, and he grinned as he gave one
more glance over his shoulder.

As he raced down the bank, the trampling of the Falls, a mile away,
roared up to him on a gust of wind. In spite of himself he could not
but notice how treacherous the ice was looking. In spite of himself he
noticed it, having no choice but to trust it. The whole surface looked
sick, with patches of sodden white and sickly lead-colour; and down
along the shore it was covered by a lane of shallow, yellowish water.
It appeared placid and innocent enough; but the woodsman's practised
eye perceived that it might break up, or "go out," at any moment. The
bear was at his heels, however, and that particular moment was not the
one for indecision. The woodsman dashed knee-deep through the margin
water, and out upon the free ice; and he heard the bear, reckless of
all admonitory signs, splash after him about three seconds later.

On the w