Free Medicine Road by Will Henry Page A

After that, the only way the caribou
could move would be into Blind Canon and they
would never do that. The young moose was too
smart. He would know that there was no escape
from Blind Canon. Its tiny valley opened off the
main meadow of Half Moon. Its sheer walls were
naked ice and rock. No living animal could climb
out of it and there was no feed for the caribou on its barren, boulder-strewn floor. To enter it would be
only to destroy any slim chance the herd might yet
have of fighting its way out of the present trap. Half
Moon Valley was bad enough, but Blind Canon was
far worse.

    Suddenly now, just as Boron and his outlaw ragtag pack broke into sight along the southern edge of
Half Moon meadow, Awklet gave a mighty bellow
and led the herd in a lumbering gallop straight
across the meadow and into the narrow, highwalled entrance of Blind Canon. Both Loki and
Boron at once gave chase, but again they had been
outwitted. The caribou gained the canon's mouth
and crowded through it before the racing wolves
could cut them off. As the two packs slid to a snowshowering halt, Awklet and a dozen old stags
turned to face them, crowded shoulder to shoulder
in the choked throat of the deep crevasse.
    Although the main herd was for the moment safe
from attack, both wolf packs immediately set up a
growling, snarling yammer of excitement. The caribou were finally and forever trapped this time. To the
last frightened fawn and stumbling old doe, they
were crowded into Blind Canon. Their moose leader
had blundered. The king wolf had led his brothers
well and demonstrated his superior hunting craft.
This time there had been no mistake. Loki had more
than made up for the disastrous hunt he had led them
on last winter. Now all that remained was to drive the
caribou on up the canon and out into the bare rock of
its little valley. There a tremendous kill could be made
once the herd had been starved into weakness. But
the pack would make certain that plenty of seed stock
was left to breed an ample supply of meat for the following year, and all the years thereafter.

    As soon as daylight broke, full and clear, the pack
would start the last drive. It would be a great hunt.
When it was over, the caribou herd would be broken
apart, its moose leader destroyed. With the great
young bull dead, the caribou would never again
gather to fight as they had the past, bloody day. It
was an exceedingly pleasant prospect. The three
huge dog-wolves-Loki, Sukon, and Boron-snarled
and bickered over it delightedly. To the east, the first
faint streak of coming day broke behind them.
    Meanwhile Awklet stood alone in the blackness
that hovers so deeply just before daylight, his tired
brain struggling to stave off sleep. He had not shut
his eyes or stopped moving for twenty-four hours.
His whole aching body cried out for rest. But there
would be no rest, and he knew he must stay awake
or die. He must somehow, for a last time, fight back
the wolves.
    Summoning his great strength, Awklet lurched
forward toward the panting, slowly pacing ring of
wolves that again began to bedevil him and the old
stags at the canon's mouth. The old stags charged
bravely after him, their assault bringing the wolf
pack up off its crouching bellies. For five minutes
Awklet and his stags kept up their short charges and
retreats. Then, after three of the stags had been cut
down by the wolves and another two so severely
wounded they could barely stagger, Awklet and the
surviving stags once more fell back into the canon's
throat.
    They had paid a hard price, but they had succeeded in gaining the precious time the herd
needed. When the fighting stopped, Loki could see
by the growing daylight that once again the herd
had disappeared. Loki could not see through the narrow opening of the canon's walls into the inner
valley, but he had no need to. While the young bull
and those tough old stags had fought so well, the
other caribou had