The cub felt the prod of the life that was in him, and stood up and snarled valiantly by his mother's side.But she thrust him ignominiously away and behind her.Because of the low-roofed entrance the lynx could not leap in, and when she made a crawling rush of it the she-wolf sprang upon her and pinned her down.The cub saw little of the battle.There was a tremendous snarling and spitting and screeching.The two animals threshed about, the lynx ripping and tearing with her claws and using her teeth as well, while the she-wolf used her teeth alone.
Once, the cub sprang in and sank his teeth into the hind leg of the lynx.He clung on, growling savagely.Though he did not know it, by the weight of his body he clogged the action of the leg and thereby saved his mother much damage.A change in the battle crushed him under both their bodies and wrenched loose his hold.The next moment the two mothers separated, and, before they rushed together again, the lynx lashed out at the cub with a huge fore-paw that ripped his shoulder open to the bone and sent him hurtling sidewise against the wall.Then was added to the uproar the cub's shrill yelp of pain and fright.But the fight lasted so long that he had time to cry himself out and to experience a second burst of courage;and the end of the battle found him again clinging to a hind-leg and furiously growling between his teeth.
The lynx was dead.But the she-wolf was very weak and sick.At first she caressed the cub and licked his wounded shoulder; but the blood she had lost had taken with it her strength, and for all of a day and a night she lay by her dead foe's side, without movement, scarcely breathing.For a week she never left the cave, except for water, and then her movements were slow and painful.At the end of that time the lynx was devoured, while the she-wolf's wounds had healed sufficiently to permit her to take the meat-trail again.
The cub's shoulder was stiff and sore, and for some time he limped from the terrible slash he had received.But the world now seemed changed.He went about in it with greater confidence, with a feeling of prowess that had not been his in the days before the battle with the lynx.He had looked upon life in a more ferocious aspect; he had fought; he had buried his teeth in the flesh of a foe; and he had survived.And because of all this, he carried himself more boldly, with a touch of defiance that was new in him.He was no longer afraid of minor things, and much of his timidity had vanished, though the unknown never ceased to press upon him with its mysteries and terrors, intangible and ever-menacing.
He began to accompany his mother on the meat-trail, and he saw much of the killing of meat and began to play his part in it.And in his own dim way he learned the law of meat.There were two kinds of life, -- his own kind and the other kind.His own kind included his mother and himself.
The other kind included all live things that moved.But the other kind was divided.One portion was what his own kind killed and ate.This portion was composed of the non-killers and the small killers.The other portion killed and ate his own kind, or was killed and eaten by his own kind.And out of this classification arose the law.The aim of life was meat.Life itself was meat.Life lived on life.There were the eaters and the eaten.
The law was: EAT OR BE EATEN.He did not formulate the law in clear, set terms and moralize about it.He did not even think the law; he merely lived the law without thinking about it at all.
He saw the law operating around him on every side.He had eaten the ptarmigan chicks.The hawk had eaten the ptarmigan-mother.The hawk would also have eaten him.Later, when he had grown more formidable, he wanted to eat the hawk.He had eaten the lynx kitten.The lynx-mother would have eaten him had she not herself been killed and eaten.And so it went.The law was being lived about him by all live things, and he himself was part and parcel of the law.He was a killer.His only food was meat, live meat, that ran away swiftly before him, or flew into the air, or climbed trees, or hid in the ground, or faced him and fought with him, or turned the tables and ran after him.
Had the cub thought in man-fashion, he might have epitomized life as a voracious appetite, and the world as a place wherein ranged a multitude of appetites, pursuing and being pursued, hunting and being hunted, eating and being eaten, all in blindness and confusion, with violence and disorder, a chaos of gluttony and slaughter, ruled over by chance, merciless, planless, endless.
But the cub did not think in man-fashion.He did not look at things with wide vision.He was single-purposed, and entertained but one thought or desire at a time.Besides the law of meat, there was a myriad other and lesser laws for him to learn and obey.The world was filled with surprise.
The stir of the life that was in him, the play of his muscles, was an unending happiness.To run down meat was to experience thrills and elations.His rages and battles were pleasures.Terror itself, and the mystery of the unknown, lent to his living.
And there were easements and satisfactions.To have a full stomach, to doze lazily in the sunshine -- such things were remuneration in full for his ardors and toils, while his ardors and toils were in themselves self-remunerative.They were expressions of life, and life is always happy when it is expressing itself.So the cub had no quarrel with his hostile environment.He was very much alive, very happy, and very proud of himself.
