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THE LAW-BRINGERS

their warm, furry bodies and of the mud they churned up in the swampy places came strongly to Dick; and the murmuring, whimpering sounds of them; the sharp scuffles and the occasional deep note of warning struck home to the very core of the man's heart.

It was only among the creatures of the wild that the savage was wiped out of him and the unquestioning simplicity of their lives filled his own. He stood up presently, and went to them; walking softly, and keeping in the shadow. And then, ahead, where the naked sides of the lake slid to the water, he saw a thing which he once had seen before, and for a moment he wondered if the turbulent years between were nightmare only, and if this endless army of stately-treading bulls who crossed the ridge against the sky, descended, and breasted the lake one after one, was not the same army, even as this was the same night which he had passed here five full years ago.

Depache's soft, melancholy tones spoke below him as they lay in the grass.

"Dieu! They are like the angels of Heaven for multitude."

And then Dick laughed: a smothered, heart-whole laugh such as he had not known these many days. For the surging, crested horns that split the water above the dark swimming bodies looked devilish entirely among the naked hills and the barren waters. Both men lay still until Depache's long body grew chilled, and he crept back through the grass to the tent. But Dick clung to his spur-top yet, keen-eared for the distant splash where a great bull took the water; for the soft rushing sound as he swam steadily; for the flapping shake of his great body as he landed. In the utter stillness sound carried far, and Dick's ears were quick as those of the hunter must be. And his eyes were quick. That sweeping, endless river of the life which belongs to the solitudes was distinct and very dear to him. Year by year the caribou took their trails and came again: stately, unafraid, unchanging; seeking the reindeer-moss and the tree-branch and the waters of some unnamed lake for drink. Homeless, drifting ever from North to South and back, they were yet the rightful masters of this land; the sentry-go of the Barren Grounds; the guard along the frontier.