It did not bring him the scent he
wanted--the smell of his mate. Yet an instinct that was more infallible
than reason told him that she was near, or should be near. He did not take
accident or sickness or the possibility of hunters having killed her into
consideration. This was where he had always started in to hunt for her, and
sooner or later he had found her. He knew her smell. And he crossed and
recrossed the bottoms so that it could not escape him.
When Thor was love-sick he was more or less like a man: that is to say, he
was an idiot. The importance of all other things dwindled into nothingness.
His habits, which were as fixed as the stars at other times, took a
complete vacation. He even forgot hunger, and the whistlers and gophers
were quite safe. He was tireless. He rambled during the night as well as
the day in quest of his lady-love.
It was quite natural that in these exciting hours he should forget Muskwa
almost entirely. At least ten times before sunset he crossed and recrossed
the creek, and the disgusted and almost ready-to-quit cub waded and swam
and floundered after him until he was nearly drowned. The tenth or dozenth
time Thor forded the stream Muskwa revolted and followed along on his own
side. It was not long before the grizzly returned.
It was soon after this, just as the sun was setting, that the unexpected
happened.
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