Once he turned his head and sniffed at the thing that was killing him—not angrily, not even impatiently, but curiously, to see what it was. Then when he felt that unsupported he must fall, he walked slowly and quietly to a great tree and leaned against it.
He remained there till late in the afternoon, then his knees buckled, and he fell, and when No Man went to him, he was dead.
No Man drew the arrow from the moose and withdrawing a little distance shot it into him again, together with his two other arrows. And he kept this up till dark; for it was in his mind that it would be best not to miss when it came to shooting at Strong Hand.
When night came, No Man tore meat from the moose and ate till he was full; then he went back to the stream and drank deep; then he returned to the moose’s carcass and, lying against it, slept.
Wolves came up thro’ the forest, and looked longingly at the dead moose, and smelt him—at a safe distance; but it was the summer season and they were not hungry enough to run straight into the smell of man. And they withdrew, coughing, whining, snarling, and returned again to feast in imagination.
When the moon rose, they went to an open space in the forest and howled dismally, so that No Man twitching as to ears and nose awoke. It was some little time before he composed himself to sleep, for his mind was teeming with thoughts. But he did not think of Strong Hand and woman and revenge as had been his wont of late. He thought rather of the pictures that he made upon bone, for what little soul he had was the soul of an artist. And he planned in the dark of the night, how upon a great, clean bone, the shovel of its own antlers, he would inscribe the moose with the arrow in him, standing arrogantly among the bushes as he bled to death, and leaning unconquered against the tree. Then fear of the night descended upon No Man, and he closed his eyes and slept—twitching, coughing and snarling as the dreams of ancient days possessed him.
But when he awakened in the strong light of day, he thought of the bow and arrows which he had made, of how he was going to hunt man, and of the sweetness which is revenge. But he put off that hunt until another day.