Such a place had once
been his home, and must be again.
A black bear he had already passed, but this was neither prey nor foe.
If it had confronted him he would have fought it, and almost surely have
won. Yet he was glad when it saw him coming and moved away. This
forest was not his: there was no need to stake a claim. And seeing it
he recalled his fight with the grizzly, when in youthful ignorance he
had stood his ground against a more powerful foe, then been a step too
slow, or too proud, in retreating.
It had nearly cost him his life, as wounded and almost lame he had been
pursued by the raging beast for miles on end. In his crippled state he
could barely keep ahead of it, and this seemed to goad it on. Till at
last he gained an unknown, freezing river and half stumbled, half swam
his way across it. Even now the sounds of cracking ice, the final break
and splash into the death-like waters, swimming desperately, clawing out
again and scrambling forward..... Without his broad, padded feet to
spread his weight upon the ice, without his clinging claws, alive with
the frightened desire of youth, he would surely have perished.
But now that the brush with death was past, he was not afraid. Those
who learned fear from such a trial quickly lost the will they needed to
live.
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