PART II
2. CHAPTER II - THE LAIR
(continued)
He lay down in the snow, depositing the ptarmigan beside him, and
with eyes peering through the needles of a low-growing spruce he
watched the play of life before him - the waiting lynx and the
waiting porcupine, each intent on life; and, such was the
curiousness of the game, the way of life for one lay in the eating
of the other, and the way of life for the other lay in being not
eaten. While old One Eye, the wolf crouching in the covert, played
his part, too, in the game, waiting for some strange freak of
Chance, that might help him on the meat-trail which was his way of
life.
Half an hour passed, an hour; and nothing happened. The balls of
quills might have been a stone for all it moved; the lynx might
have been frozen to marble; and old One Eye might have been dead.
Yet all three animals were keyed to a tenseness of living that was
almost painful, and scarcely ever would it come to them to be more
alive than they were then in their seeming petrifaction.
One Eye moved slightly and peered forth with increased eagerness.
Something was happening. The porcupine had at last decided that
its enemy had gone away. Slowly, cautiously, it was unrolling its
ball of impregnable armour. It was agitated by no tremor of
anticipation. Slowly, slowly, the bristling ball straightened out
and lengthened. One Eye watching, felt a sudden moistness in his
mouth and a drooling of saliva, involuntary, excited by the living
meat that was spreading itself like a repast before him.
Not quite entirely had the porcupine unrolled when it discovered
its enemy. In that instant the lynx struck. The blow was like a
flash of light. The paw, with rigid claws curving like talons,
shot under the tender belly and came back with a swift ripping
movement. Had the porcupine been entirely unrolled, or had it not
discovered its enemy a fraction of a second before the blow was
struck, the paw would have escaped unscathed; but a side-flick of
the tail sank sharp quills into it as it was withdrawn.
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