half that in his lifetime."

Pourcette's eyes were on the skins, not on the men, and he did not
appear to listen. He sat leaning forward, with a strange look on his
face. Presently he got up, came over, and stroked the skins softly. A
queer chuckling noise came from his throat.

"It was good sport?" asked Lawless, feeling a new interest in him.

"The grandest sport--but it is not so easy," answered the old man. "The
grizzly comes on you bold and strong; you know your danger right away,
and have it out. So. But the puma comes--God, how the puma comes!" He
broke off, his eyes burning bright under his bushy brows and his body
arranging itself into an attitude of expectation and alertness.

"You have travelled far. The sun goes down. You build a fire and cook
your meat, and then good tea and the tabac. It is ver' fine. You hear
the loon crying on the water, or the last whistle of the heron up
the pass. The lights in the sky come out and shine through a thin
mist--there is nothing like that mist, it is so fine and soft. Allons.
You are sleepy. You bless the good God. You stretch pine branches, wrap
in your blanket, and lie down to sleep. If it is winter and you have a
friend, you lie close. It is all quiet. As you sleep, something comes.
It slides along the ground on its belly, like a snake. It is a pity
if you have not ears that feel--the whole body as ears. For there is a
swift lunge, a snarl--ah, you should hear it! the thing has you by the
throat, and there is an end!"

The old man had acted all the scenes: a sidelong glance, a little
gesture, a movement of the body, a quick, harsh breath--without emphatic
excitement, yet with a reality and force that fascinated his two
listeners. When he paused, Shon let go a long breath, and Lawless looked
with keen inquiry at their entertainer. This almost unnatural, yet
quiet, intensity had behind it something besides the mere spirit of
the sportsman. Such exhibitions of feeling generally have an unusual
personal interest to give them point and meaning.

"Yes, that's wonderful, Pourcette," he said; "but that's when the puma
has things its own way. How is it when these come off?" He stroked the
soft furs under his hand.

The man laughed, yet without a sound--the inward, stealthy laugh, as
from a knowledge wicked in its very suggestiveness. His eyes ran from
Lawless to Shon, and back again. He put his hand on his mouth, as though
for silence, stole noiselessly over to the wall,