He did not
understand it at all. It had no appeal to him, but hereabouts were the
tracks of the owner. In a spirit of mischief the Roachback scratched
dirt into the spring, and then seeing the rubbing-tree, he stood
sidewise on the rocky ledge, and was thus able to put his mark fully
five feet above that of Wahb. Then he nervously jumped down, and was
running about, defiling the bath and keeping a sharp lookout, when he
heard a noise in the woods below. Instantly he was all alert. The sound
drew near, then the wind brought the sure proof, and the Roachback, in
terror, turned and fled into the woods.
[Illustration]
It was Wahb. He had been failing in health of late; his old pains
were on him again, and, as well as his hind leg, had seized his right
shoulder, where were still lodged two rifle-balls. He was feeling very
ill, and crippled with pain. He came up the familiar bank at a jerky
limp, and there caught the odor of the foe; then he saw the track in the
mud--his eyes said the track of a _small_ Bear, but his eyes were dim
now, and his nose, his unerring nose, said, "This is the track of the
huge invader." Then he noticed the tree with his sign on it, and there
beyond doubt was the stranger's mark far above his own. His eyes and
nose were agreed on this; and more, they told him that the foe was close
at hand, might at any moment come.
Wahb was feeling ill and weak with pain. He was in no mood for a
desperate fight.
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