There was no pity in him, his only
emotion was a great sense of power; they had hunted him, two to one, and
they born in the woods, but he had outwitted and slain them both. He
could have escaped, he could have easily left them far behind when he
first discovered that they were stalking him, but he had felt that they
should be punished and now the event justified his faith.
It was not his first taking of human life, and while he would have
shuddered at the deed a year ago he felt no such sensation now; they
were merely dangerous wild animals that had crossed his path, and he had
put them out of it in the proper way; his feeling was that of the hunter
who slays a grizzly bear or a lion, only he had slain two.
He stood looking at them, and save for the rustling of the young grass
under the gentle western wind the wilderness was silent and at peace.
The sun was shooting up higher and higher and a vast golden light hung
over the forest, gilding every leaf and twig. Henry Ware turned at last
and sped swiftly and silently to the south, still thrilling with
exultation over his deed, and the sequel that he knew would quickly
come.
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