Megaleep nibbles a bite or two, then wanders away and away in search
of another tree like the one he has just left.
And when you find him at last, the chances are still against you. You
are stealing forward cautiously when a fresh sign attracts attention.
You stop to examine it a moment. Something gray, dim, misty, seems to
drift like a cloud through the trees ahead. You scarcely notice it
till, on your right, a stir, and another cloud, and another--The
caribou, quick, a score of them! But before your rifle is up and you
have found the sights, the gray things melt into the gray woods and
drift away; and the stalk begins all over again.
The reason for this restlessness is not far to seek. Megaleep's
ancestors followed regular migrations in spring and autumn, like the
birds, on the unwooded plains beyond the Arctic Circle. Megaleep never
migrates; but the old instinct is in him and will not let him rest. So
he wanders through the year, and is never satisfied.
Fortunately nature has been kind to Megaleep in providing him with
means to gratify his wandering disposition.
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