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All
the
fighting
blood
of
his
breed
was
up
in
him
and
surging
through
him
.
This
was
living
,
though
he
did
not
know
it
.
He
was
realising
his
own
meaning
in
the
world
;
he
was
doing
that
for
which
he
was
made
--
killing
meat
and
battling
to
kill
it
.
He
was
justifying
his
existence
,
than
which
life
can
do
no
greater
;
for
life
achieves
its
summit
when
it
does
to
the
uttermost
that
which
it
was
equipped
to
do
.
After
a
time
,
the
ptarmigan
ceased
her
struggling
.
He
still
held
her
by
the
wing
,
and
they
lay
on
the
ground
and
looked
at
each
other
.
He
tried
to
growl
threateningly
,
ferociously
.
She
pecked
on
his
nose
,
which
by
now
,
what
of
previous
adventures
was
sore
.
He
winced
but
held
on
.
She
pecked
him
again
and
again
.
From
wincing
he
went
to
whimpering
.
He
tried
to
back
away
from
her
,
oblivious
to
the
fact
that
by
his
hold
on
her
he
dragged
her
after
him
.
A
rain
of
pecks
fell
on
his
ill-used
nose
.
The
flood
of
fight
ebbed
down
in
him
,
and
,
releasing
his
prey
,
he
turned
tail
and
scampered
on
across
the
open
in
inglorious
retreat
.
He
lay
down
to
rest
on
the
other
side
of
the
open
,
near
the
edge
of
the
bushes
,
his
tongue
lolling
out
,
his
chest
heaving
and
panting
,
his
nose
still
hurting
him
and
causing
him
to
continue
his
whimper
.
But
as
he
lay
there
,
suddenly
there
came
to
him
a
feeling
as
of
something
terrible
impending
.
The
unknown
with
all
its
terrors
rushed
upon
him
,
and
he
shrank
back
instinctively
into
the
shelter
of
the
bush
.
As
he
did
so
,
a
draught
of
air
fanned
him
,
and
a
large
,
winged
body
swept
ominously
and
silently
past
.
A
hawk
,
driving
down
out
of
the
blue
,
had
barely
missed
him
.
While
he
lay
in
the
bush
,
recovering
from
his
fright
and
peering
fearfully
out
,
the
mother-ptarmigan
on
the
other
side
of
the
open
space
fluttered
out
of
the
ravaged
nest
.
It
was
because
of
her
loss
that
she
paid
no
attention
to
the
winged
bolt
of
the
sky
.
But
the
cub
saw
,
and
it
was
a
warning
and
a
lesson
to
him
--
the
swift
downward
swoop
of
the
hawk
,
the
short
skim
of
its
body
just
above
the
ground
,
the
strike
of
its
talons
in
the
body
of
the
ptarmigan
,
the
ptarmigan
's
squawk
of
agony
and
fright
,
and
the
hawk
's
rush
upward
into
the
blue
,
carrying
the
ptarmigan
away
with
it
.
It
was
a
long
time
before
the
cub
left
its
shelter
.
He
had
learned
much
.
Live
things
were
meat
.
They
were
good
to
eat
.
Also
,
live
things
when
they
were
large
enough
,
could
give
hurt
.
It
was
better
to
eat
small
live
things
like
ptarmigan
chicks
,
and
to
let
alone
large
live
things
like
ptarmigan
hens
.
Nevertheless
he
felt
a
little
prick
of
ambition
,
a
sneaking
desire
to
have
another
battle
with
that
ptarmigan
hen
--
only
the
hawk
had
carried
her
away
.
May
be
there
were
other
ptarmigan
hens
.
He
would
go
and
see
.
He
came
down
a
shelving
bank
to
the
stream
.
He
had
never
seen
water
before
.
The
footing
looked
good
.
There
were
no
inequalities
of
surface
.
He
stepped
boldly
out
on
it
;
and
went
down
,
crying
with
fear
,
into
the
embrace
of
the
unknown
.
It
was
cold
,
and
he
gasped
,
breathing
quickly
.
The
water
rushed
into
his
lungs
instead
of
the
air
that
had
always
accompanied
his
act
of
breathing
.
The
suffocation
he
experienced
was
like
the
pang
of
death
.
To
him
it
signified
death
.
He
had
no
conscious
knowledge
of
death
,
but
like
every
animal
of
the
Wild
,
he
possessed
the
instinct
of
death
.
To
him
it
stood
as
the
greatest
of
hurts
.
It
was
the
very
essence
of
the
unknown
;
it
was
the
sum
of
the
terrors
of
the
unknown
,
the
one
culminating
and
unthinkable
catastrophe
that
could
happen
to
him
,
about
which
he
knew
nothing
and
about
which
he
feared
everything
.
He
came
to
the
surface
,
and
the
sweet
air
rushed
into
his
open
mouth
.
He
did
not
go
down
again
.
Quite
as
though
it
had
been
a
long-established
custom
of
his
he
struck
out
with
all
his
legs
and
began
to
swim
.
The
near
bank
was
a
yard
away
;
but
he
had
come
up
with
his
back
to
it
,
and
the
first
thing
his
eyes
rested
upon
was
the
opposite
bank
,
toward
which
he
immediately
began
to
swim
.
The
stream
was
a
small
one
,
but
in
the
pool
it
widened
out
to
a
score
of
feet
.
Midway
in
the
passage
,
the
current
picked
up
the
cub
and
swept
him
downstream
.
He
was
caught
in
the
miniature
rapid
at
the
bottom
of
the
pool
.
Here
was
little
chance
for
swimming
.
The
quiet
water
had
become
suddenly
angry
.
Sometimes
he
was
under
,
sometimes
on
top
.
At
all
times
he
was
in
violent
motion
,
now
being
turned
over
or
around
,
and
again
,
being
smashed
against
a
rock
.
And
with
every
rock
he
struck
,
he
yelped
.
His
progress
was
a
series
of
yelps
,
from
which
might
have
been
adduced
the
number
of
rocks
he
encountered
.
