There was no "consent of the governed" in that governing. The mother
knew, and the calf didn't, just what was good for him.
It was this last lesson that broke up the school. Just in front of my
hiding place a tree fell out into the opening. A mother caribou
brought her calf up to this unsuspectingly, and leaped over, expecting
the little one to follow. As she struck she whirled like a top and
stood like a beautiful statue, her head pointing in my direction. Her
eyes were bright with fear, the ears set forward, the nostrils spread
to catch every tainted atom from the air. Then she turned and glided
silently away, the little one close to her side, looking up and
touching her frequently as if to whisper, _What is it? what is it?_
but making no sound. There was no signal given, no alarm of any kind
that I could understand; yet the lesson stopped instantly. The caribou
glided away like shadows. Over across the opening a bush swayed here
and there; a leaf quivered as if something touched its branch.
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