The great head drooped more and more under its tree of horns, and the shambling trot grew weak and weaker.He took to standing for long periods, with nose to the ground and dejected ears dropped limply; and Buck found more time in which to get water for himself and in which to rest.At such moments, panting with red lolling tongue and with eyes fixed upon the big bull, it appeared to Buck that a change was coming over the face of things.He could feel a new stir in the land.As the moose were coming into the land, other kinds of life were coming in.Forest and stream and air seemed palpitant with their presence.The news of it was borne in upon him, not by sight, or sound, or smell, but by some other and subtler sense.He heard nothing, saw nothing, yet knew that the land was somehow different; that through it strange things were afoot and ranging; and he resolved to investigate after he had finished the business in hand.
At last, at the end of the fourth day, he pulled the great moose down.For a day and a night he remained by the kill, eating and sleeping, turn and turn about.Then, rested, refreshed and strong, he turned his face toward camp and John Thornton.He broke into the long easy lope, and went on, hour after hour, never at loss for the tangled way, heading straight home through strange country with a certitude of direction that put man and his magnetic needle to shame.