The Moose and the Wolves

He remembered, when a boy, during a time of plenty, when he saw a moose pulled down by the wolves. Zing-ha lay with him in the snow and watched. Zing-ha was his friend who later became the best of hunters. One day he fell through an air hole on the frozen Yukon River. They found him a month later, frozen to the ice where he had attempted to climb out.

Zing-ha and he had gone out that day to play at hunting, in the manner of their fathers. Near a creek they discovered the fresh track of a moose and with it the tracks of many wolves. "An old one," Zing-ha said. "It is an old one who cannot travel as fast as the others. The wolves have separated him from his brothers, and they will never leave him." And it was so. It was their way. By day and by night, never resting, biting at his heels, they would stay with him to the end. How Zing-ha and he had felt the desire to see blood! The finish would be a sight to remember!

Eagerly, they started up the trail. Even he, Koskoosh, who was not a good tracker, could have followed it blind, it was so wide. They were not far behind the hunt, reading its awful story at every step. Now they saw where the moose had stopped to face his attackers. On every side the snow had been stamped heavily. In the middle were the deep footprints of the moose. All about, everywhere, were the lighter footmarks of the wolves. Some had moved to one side and rested while their brothers tried to seize the moose. The full-stretched impressions of their bodies in the snow were as perfect as though they had been made the moment before. One wolf had been caught in a wild dash at the moose and had died under its heavy stamping. A few bones remained as witness.

The two boys stopped again at a second stand. Here the great animal had fought with despair. As the snow indicated, he had been dragged down twice. And twice he shook off his enemies and gained his footing once more. He had finished his task long before, but nevertheless, life was dear to him. Zing-ha said it was a strange thing for a moose once down to struggle free again. But this one certainly had done so. The medicine man would see signs and wonders in this when they told him.

Then they came to the place where the moose had tried to climb the riverbank and go into the woods. But his enemies had attacked from behind, until he leaped high and then fell back upon them, crushing two deep into the snow. It was clear that the kill was near, because the two dead wolves had been left untouched by their brothers. The trail was red with blood now, and the distance between tracks of the great beast had become shorter and shorter. Then they heard the first sounds of the battle — the quick bark of the wolves which spoke of teeth tearing flesh. On hands and knees Zing-ha and Koskoosh made their way through the snow. Together they pushed aside the low branches of a young pine tree and looked forth. It was the end that they saw.

The picture, like all of youth's memories, was still strong with him. His eyes now watched the end acted again as clearly as in that earlier time. Koskoosh was surprised at this, because in the days which followed, he had done many great deeds. He had been a leader of men and his name had become a curse in the mouths of his enemies.