From his hiding place in a crotch of the spruce Neewa looked down on the first great tragedy of his life, and the advent of man.  The two-legged beast made him cringe deeper into his refuge, and his little heart was near breaking with the terror that had seized upon him.  He did not reason.  It was by no miracle of mental process that he knew something terrible had happened, and that this tall, two-legged creature was the cause of it.  His little eyes were blazing, just over the level of the crotch.  He wondered why his mother did not get up and fight when this new enemy came.  Frightened as he was he was ready to snarl if she would only wake up—­ready to hurry down the tree and help her as he had helped her in the defeat of Makoos, the old he-bear.  But not a muscle of Noozak’s huge body moved as Challoner bent over her.  She was stone dead.

Challoner’s face was flushed with exultation.  Necessity had made of him a killer.  He saw in Noozak a splendid pelt, and a provision of meat that would carry him all the rest of the way to the southland.  He leaned his rifle against a tree and began looking about for the cub.  Knowledge of the wild told him it would not be far from its mother, and he began looking into the trees and the near-by thickets.

In the shelter of his crotch, screened by the thick branches, Neewa made himself as small as possible during the search.  At the end of half an hour Challoner disappointedly gave up his quest, and went back to the creek for a drink before setting himself to the task of skinning Noozak.

No sooner was he gone than Neewa’s little head shot up alertly.  For a few moments he watched, and then slipped backward down the trunk of the cedar to the ground.  He gave his squealing call, but his mother did not move.  He went to her and stood beside her motionless head, sniffing the man-tainted air.  Then he muzzled her jowl, butted his nose under her neck, and at last nipped her ear—­ always his last resort in the awakening process.  He was puzzled.  He whined softly, and climbed upon his mother’s big, soft back, and sat there.  Into his whine there came a strange note, and then out of his throat there rose a whimpering cry that was like the cry of a child.

Challoner heard that cry as he came back, and something seemed to grip hold of his heart suddenly, and choke him.  He had heard children crying like that; and it was the motherless cub!

Creeping up behind a dwarf spruce he looked where Noozak lay dead, and saw Neewa perched on his mother’s back.  He had killed many things in his time, for it was his business to kill, and to barter in the pelts of creatures that others killed.  But he had seen nothing like this before, and he felt all at once as if he had done murder.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed softly, “you poor little devil; I’m sorry!”

It was almost a prayer—­for forgiveness.  Yet there was but one thing to do now.  So quietly that Neewa failed to hear him he crept around with the wind and stole up behind.  He was within a dozen feet of Neewa before the cub suspected danger.  Then it was too late.  In a swift rush Challoner was upon him and, before Neewa could leave the back of his mother, had smothered him in the folds of the grub sack.