drinking frequently. Then came the _sapoos oowin_--six hours after he had
left the clay wallow. The kinnikinic berries, the soap berries, the
jackpine pitch, the spruce and balsam needles, and the water he had drunk,
all mixed in his stomach in one big compelling dose, brought it about--and
Thor felt tremendously better, so much better that for the first time he
turned and growled back in the direction of his enemies. His shoulder still
hurt him, but his sickness was gone.

For many minutes after the _sapoos oowin_ he stood without moving, and many
times he growled. The snarling rumble deep in his chest had a new meaning
now. Until last night and to-day he had not known a real hatred. He had
fought other bears, but the fighting rage was not hate. It came quickly,
and passed away quickly; it left no growing ugliness; he licked the wounds
of a clawed enemy, and was quite frequently happy while he nursed them. But
this new thing that was born in him was different.

With an unforgetable and ferocious hatred he hated the thing that had hurt
him. He hated the man-smell; he hated the strange, white-faced thing he had
seen clinging to the side of the gorge; and his hatred included everything
associated with them. It was a hatred born of instinct and roused sharply
from its long slumber by experience.

Without ever having seen or smelled man before, he knew that man was his
deadliest enemy, and to be feared more than all the wild things in the
mountains. He would fight the biggest grizzly. He would turn on the
fiercest pack of wolves. He would brave flood and fire without flinching.
But before man he must flee! He must hide! He must constantly guard himself
in the peaks and on the plains with eyes and ears and nose!

Why he sensed this, why he understood all at once that a creature had come