Something happened then. Muskwa had crept close to Thor's wounded leg. He
rose up, and his nose caught the scent of the raw wound. Gently his tongue
touched it. It was like velvet--that tongue. It was wonderfully pleasant to
feel, and Thor stood there for many moments, making neither movement nor
sound while the cub licked his wound. Then he lowered his great head. He
sniffed the soft little ball of friendship that had come to him. Muskwa
whined in a motherless way. Thor growled, but more softly now. It was no
longer a threat. The heat of his great tongue fell once on the cub's face.

"Come on!" he said, and resumed his journey into the north.

And close at his heels followed the motherless little tan-faced cub.




CHAPTER SIX


The creek which Thor was following was a tributary of the Babine, and he
was headed pretty nearly straight for the Skeena. As he was travelling
upstream the country was becoming higher and rougher. He had come perhaps
seven or eight miles from the summit of the divide when he found Muskwa.
From this point the slopes began to assume a different aspect. They were
cut up by dark, narrow gullies, and broken by enormous masses of rocks,
jagged cuffs, and steep slides of shale. The creek became noisier and more
difficult to follow.

Thor was now entering one of his strongholds: a region which contained a
thousand hiding-places, if he had wanted to hide; a wild, uptorn country