He was a splendid bird, a thoroughbred "Black-breasted Red" game-cock, his gorgeous plumage hard as mail, silken with perfect condition, and glowing like a flame against the darkness of the spruce forest. His snaky head—the comb and wattles had been trimmed close, after the mode laid down for his aristocratic kind—was sharp and keen, like a living spearpoint. His eyes were fierce and piercing, ready ever to meet the gaze of bird, or beast, or man himself with the unwinking challenge of their full, arrogant¹ stare. Perched upon a stump³ a few yards from the railway line, he turned that bold stare now, with an air of unperturbed superciliousness⁴, upon the wreck⁵ of the big freight-car from which he had just escaped. He had escaped by a miracle, but little effect had that upon his bold and confident spirit. The ramshackle, overladen freight train, labouring up the too-steep gradient, had broken in two, thanks to a defective⁶ coupler, near the top of the incline a mile and a half away. The rear cars—heavy box-cars—had, of course, run back, gathering⁷ a terrific momentum⁸ as they went. The rear brakeman, his brakes failing to hold, had discreetly⁹ jumped before the speed became too great. At the foot of the incline a sharp curve had proved too much for the runaways¹⁰ to negotiate. With a screech¹¹ of tortured metal they had jumped the track and gone crashing down the high embankment. One car, landing on a granite¹² boulder¹³, had split apart like a cleft¹⁴ melon. The light crate¹⁵ in which our game-cock, a pedigree bird, was being carried to a fancier in the nearest town, some three score miles away, had survived by its very lightness. But its door had been snapped open. The cock walked out deliberately¹⁶, uttered a long, low krr-rr-ee of ironic¹⁷ comment upon the disturbance¹⁸, hopped²⁰ delicately over the tangle²¹ of boxes and crates²² and agricultural implements²³, and flew to the top of the nearest stump. There he shook himself, his plumage being disarrayed²⁴, though his spirit was not. He flapped his wings. Then, eyeing the wreckage²⁵ keenly, he gave a shrill²⁶, triumphant²⁷ crow, which rang through the early morning stillness of the forest like a challenge. He felt that the smashed car, so lately his prison, was a foe²⁸ which he had vanquished²⁹ by his own unaided prowess. His pride was not altogether unnatural³⁰.  
The place where he stood, preening³¹ the red glory of his plumage, was in the very heart of the wilderness³². The only human habitation within a dozen miles in either direction was a section-man's shanty³³, guarding a siding and a rusty³⁴ water tank. The woods—mostly spruce in that region, with patches of birch and poplar—had been gone over by the lumbermen some five years before, and still showed the ravages³⁵ of the insatiable axe³⁶. Their narrow "tote-roads," now deeply mossed and partly overgrown by small scrub, traversed the lonely spaces in every direction. One of these roads led straight back into the wilderness from the railway—almost from the stump whereon the red cock had his perch².
 
The cock had no particular liking³⁷ for the neighbourhood of the accident, and when his fierce, inquiring eye fell upon this road, he decided³⁸ to investigate, hoping it might lead him to some flock of his own kind, over whom he would, as a matter of course, promptly³⁹ establish his domination. That there would be other cocks there, already in charge, only added to his zest⁴⁰ for the adventure. He was raising his wings to hop¹⁹ down from his perch, when a wide-winged shadow passed over him, and he checked himself, glancing upwards⁴¹ sharply.
 
A foraging⁴² hawk⁴³ had just flown overhead. The hawk had never before seen a bird like the bright figure standing⁴⁴ on the stump, and he paused in his flight, hanging for a moment on motionless wing to scrutinize⁴⁵ the strange apparition⁴⁶. But he was hungry, and he considered himself more than a match for anything in feathers except the eagle, the goshawk, and the great horned owl⁴⁷. His hesitation⁴⁸ was but for a second, and, with a sudden mighty⁴⁹ thrust of his wide wings, he swooped⁵⁰ down upon this novel victim.
 
The big hawk was accustomed to seeing every quarry⁵¹ he stooped at cower⁵² paralysed with terror or scurry⁵³ for shelter in wild panic. But, to his surprise, this infatuated bird on the stump stood awaiting him, with wings half lifted, neck feathers raised in defiant⁵⁴ ruff, and one eye cocked upwards warily⁵⁵. He was so surprised, in fact, that at a distance of some dozen or fifteen feet he wavered and paused in his downward rush. But it was surprise only, fear having small place in his wild, marauding heart. In the next second he swooped again and struck downwards⁵⁶ at his quarry with savage⁵⁷, steel-hard talons⁵⁹.
 
He struck but empty air. At exactly the right fraction of the instant the cock had leapt upwards on his powerful wings, lightly as a thistle-seed, but swift as if shot from a catapult. He passed straight over his terrible assailant's back. In passing he struck downwards with his spurs, which were nearly three inches long, straight, and tapered⁶⁰ almost to a needle-point. One of these deadly weapons found its mark, as luck would have it, fair in the joint⁶¹ of the hawk's shoulder, putting the wing clean out of action.
 
The marauder turned completely over and fell in a wild flutter to the ground, the cock, at the same time, alighting gracefully⁶² six or eight feet away and wheeling like a flash to meet a second attack. The hawk, recovering with splendid nerve from the amazing shock of his overthrow⁶⁴, braced⁶⁵ himself upright on his tail by the aid of the one sound wing—the other wing trailing helplessly—and faced his strange adversary⁶⁶ with open beak⁶⁷ and one clutching talon⁵⁸ uplifted.
 
The cock, fighting after the manner of his kind, rushed in to within a couple of feet of his foe and there paused, balanced for the next stroke or parry, legs slightly apart, wings lightly raised, neck feathers ruffed straight out, beak lowered and presented like a rapier point. Seeing that his opponent made no demonstration⁶⁸, but simply waited, watching him with eyes as hard and bright and dauntless as his own, he tried to provoke him to a second attack. With scornful insolence⁶⁹ he dropped his guard and pecked at a twig⁷⁰ or a grass blade, jerking the unconsidered morsel⁷¹ aside and presenting his point again with lightning swiftness.
 
The insult, however, was lost upon the hawk, who had no knowledge of the cock's duelling code. He simply waited, motionless as the stump beside him.
 
The cock, perceiving that taunt⁷² and insolence were wasted, now began to circle warily toward the left, as if to take his opponent in the flank. The hawk at once shifted front to face him. But this was the side of his disabled wing. The sprawling⁷³ member would not move, would not get out of the way. In the effort to manage it, he partly lost his precarious⁷⁴ balance. The cock saw his advantage instantly. He dashed in like a feathered and flaming thunderbolt, leaping upwards and striking downwards with his destroying heels. The hawk was hurled⁷⁵ over backwards⁷⁶, with one spur through his throat, the other through his lungs. As he fell he dragged his conqueror⁷⁷ down with him, and one convulsive but blindly-clutching talon ripped away a strip of flesh and feathers from the victor's thigh⁷⁸. There was a moment's flapping, a few delicate red feathers floated off upon the morning air, then the hawk lay quite still, and the red cock, stepping haughtily⁷⁹ off the body of his foe, crowed long and shrill, three times, as if challenging any other champions of the wilderness to come and dare a like fate.
 
For a few minutes he stood waiting and listening for an answer to his challenge. As no answer came, he turned, without deigning⁸⁰ to glance at his slain⁸¹ foe, and stalked off, stepping daintily, up the old wood-road and into the depths of the forest. To the raw, red gash⁸² in his thigh he paid no heed⁸³ whatever.
 
Having no inkling of the fact that the wilderness, silent and deserted⁸⁴ though it seemed, was full of hostile eyes and unknown perils⁸⁶, he took no care at all for the secrecy⁸⁷ of his going. Indeed, had he striven for concealment⁸⁸, his brilliant colouring, so out of key with the forest gloom, would have made it almost impossible. Nevertheless, his keenness of sight and hearing, his practised and unsleeping vigilance as protector of his flock, stood him in good stead, and made up for his lack of wilderness lore⁸⁹. It was with an intense interest and curiosity, rather than with any apprehension⁹⁰, that his bold eyes questioned everything on either side of his path through the dark spruce woods. Sometimes he would stop to peck the bright vermilion bunches of the pigeon-berry, which here and there starred the hillocks beside the road. But no matter how interesting he found the novel and delicious fare, his vigilance never relaxed. It was, indeed, almost automatic. The idea lurking⁹¹ in his subconscious⁹² processes was probably that he might at any moment be seen by some doughty⁹³ rival of his own kind, and challenged to the great game of mortal combat. But whatever the object of his watchfulness⁹⁴, it served him as well against the unknown as it could have done against expected foes⁹⁵.
 
Presently he came to a spot where an old, half-rotted stump had been torn apart by a bear hunting for wood-ants. The raw earth about the up-torn roots tempted⁹⁶ the wanderer to scratch for grubs. Finding a fat white morsel, much too dainty to be devoured⁹⁷ alone, he stood over it and began to call kt-kt-kt, kt-kt-kt, kt-kt-kt, in his most alluring⁹⁸ tones, hoping that some coy young hen would come stealing out of the underbrush in response to his gallant⁹⁹ invitation. There was no such response; but as he peered about hopefully, he caught sight of a sinister¹⁰⁰, reddish-yellow shape creeping towards him behind the shelter of a withe-wood bush. He gulped¹⁰¹ down the fat grub, and stood warily eyeing the approach of this new foe.
 
It looked to him like a sharp-nosed, bushy-tailed yellow dog—a very savage and active one. He was not afraid, but he knew himself no match for a thoroughly¹⁰² ferocious¹⁰³ dog of that size. This one, it was clear, had evil designs upon him. He half crouched¹⁰⁴, with wings loosed and every muscle tense for the spring.
 
The next instant the fox pounced¹⁰⁵ at him, darting¹⁰⁶ through the green edges of the withe-wood bush with most disconcerting suddenness. The cock sprang into the air, but only just in time, for the fox, leaping up nimbly at him with snapping jaws¹⁰⁷, captured a mouthful of glossy¹⁰⁸ fail feathers. The cock alighted on a branch overhead, some seven or eight feet from the ground, whipped around, stretched his neck downwards, and eyed his assailant with a glassy stare. "Kr-rr-rr-eee?" he murmured softly, as if in sarcastic¹⁰⁹ interrogation. The fox, exasperated¹¹⁰ at his failure, and hating, above all beasts, to be made a fool of, glanced around to see if there were any spectators. Then, with an air of elaborate indifference¹¹², he pawed a feather from the corner of his mouth and trotted¹¹³ away as if he had just remembered something.
 
He had not gone above thirty yards or so, when the cock flew down again to the exact spot where he had been scratching. He pretended to pick up another grub, all the time keeping an eye on the retiring foe. He crowed with studied insolence; but the fox, although that long and shrill defiance¹¹⁴ must have seemed a startling novelty, gave no sign of having heard it. The cock crowed again, with the same lack of result. He kept on crowing until the fox was out of sight. Then he returned coolly to his scratching. When he had satisfied his appetite for fat white grubs, he flew up again to his safe perch and fell to preening his feathers. Five minutes later the fox reappeared, creeping up with infinite stealth from quite another direction. The cock, however, detected his approach at once, and proclaimed the fact with another mocking crow. Disgusted and abashed¹¹⁵, the fox turned in his tracks and crept away to stalk some less sophisticated quarry.
 
The wanderer, for all his fearlessness, was wise. He suspected that the vicious yellow dog with the bushy tail might return yet again to the charge. For a time, therefore, he sat on his perch, digesting his meal and studying with keen, inquisitive¹¹⁶ eyes his strange surroundings. After ten minutes or so of stillness and emptiness, the forest began to come alive. He saw a pair of black-and-white woodpeckers running up and down the trunk of a half-dead tree, and listened with tense interest to their loud rat-tat-tattings. He watched the shy wood-mice come out from their snug¹¹⁷ holes under the tree-roots, and play about with timorous¹¹⁸ gaiety and light rustlings among the dead leaves. He scrutinized¹¹⁹ with appraising¹²⁰ care a big brown rabbit which came bounding in a leisurely¹²¹ fashion down the tote-road and sat up on its hindquarters near the stump, staring about with its mild, bulging¹²² eyes, and waving its long ears this way and that, to question every minutest wilderness sound; and he decided that the rabbit, for all its bulk and apparent vigour¹²³ of limb, would not be a dangerous opponent. In fact, he thought of hopping¹²⁴ down from his perch and putting the big innocent to flight, just to compensate¹²⁵ himself for having had to flee from the fox.
 
But while he was meditating¹²⁶ this venture, the rabbit went suddenly leaping off at a tremendous pace, evidently in great alarm. A few seconds later a slim little light-brownish creature, with short legs, long, sinuous¹²⁷ body, short, triangular¹²⁸ head, and cruel eyes that glowed like fire, came into view, following hard upon the rabbit's trail. It was nothing like half the rabbit's size, but the interested watcher on the branch overhead understood at once the rabbit's terror. He had never seen a weasel before, but he knew that the sinuous little beast with the eyes of death would be as dangerous almost as the fox. He noted¹²⁹ that here was another enemy to look out for—to be avoided, if possible, to be fought with the utmost wariness¹³⁰ if fighting should be forced upon him.
 
Not long after the weasel had vanished, the cock grew tired of waiting, and restless to renew the quest for the flock on which his dreams were set. He started by flying from tree to tree, still keeping along the course of the tote-road. But after he had covered perhaps a half-mile in this laborious¹³¹ fashion, he gave it up and hopped down again into the road. Here he went now with new caution, but with the same old arrogance¹³² of eye and bearing. He went quickly, however, for the gloom of the spruce wood had grown oppressive to him, and he wanted open fields and the unrestricted sun.
 
He had not gone far when he caught sight of a curious-looking animal advancing slowly down the path to meet him. It was nearly as big as the rabbit, but low on the legs; and instead of leaping along, it crawled with a certain heavy deliberation. Its colour was a dingy¹³³, greyish black-and-white, and its short black head was crowned with what looked like a heavy iron-grey pompadour brushed well back. The cock stood still, eyeing its approach suspiciously. It did not look capable of any very swift demonstration, but he was on his guard.
 
When it had come within three or four yards of him, he said "Kr-rr-rr-eee!" sharply, just to see what it would do, at the same time lowering his snaky head and ruffing out his neck feathers in challenge. The stranger seemed then to notice him for the first time, and instantly, to the cock's vast surprise, it enlarged itself to fully⁶³ twice its previous size. Its fur, which was now seen to be quills¹³⁴ rather than fur, stood up straight on end all over its head and body, and the quills were two or three inches in length. At this amazing spectacle the cock involuntarily backed away several paces. The stranger came straight on, however, without hastening his deliberate steps one jot¹³⁵. The cock waited, maintaining his attitude of challenge, till not more than three or four feet separated him from the incomprehensible apparition. Then he sprang lightly over it and turned in a flash, expecting the stranger to turn also and again confront him. The stranger, however, did nothing of the kind, but simply continued stolidly¹³⁶ on his way, not even troubling to look round. Such stolidity¹³⁷ was more than the cock could understand, having never encountered a porcupine¹³⁸ before. He stared after it for some moments. Then he crowed scornfully, turned about, and resumed his lonely quest.
 
A little farther on, to his great delight, he came out into a small clearing with a log cabin in the centre of it. A house! It was associated in his mind with an admiring, devoted¹³⁹ flock of hens, and rivals to be ignominiously¹⁴⁰ routed, and harmless necessary humans whose business it was to supply unlimited¹⁴¹ food. He rushed forward eagerly, careless as to whether he should encounter love or war.
 
Alas¹⁴², the cabin was deserted! Even to his inexperienced eye it was long deserted. The door hung on one hinge, half open; the one small window had no glass in it. Untrodden weeds grew among the rotting chips up to and across the threshold. The roof—a rough affair of poles and bark—sagged in the middle, just ready to fall in at the smallest provocation¹⁴³. A red squirrel, his tail carried jauntily¹⁴⁴ over his back, sat on the topmost peak of it and shrilled¹⁴⁵ high derision at the wanderer as he approached.
 
The cock was acquainted with squirrels, and thought less than nothing of them. Ignoring the loud chatter¹⁴⁶, he tip-toed around the cabin, dejected but still inquisitive. Returning at length to the doorway¹⁴⁷, he peered in, craning his neck and uttering a low kr-rr. Finally, with head held high, he stalked in. The place was empty, save for a long bench with a broken leg and a joint of rust-eaten stove-pipe. Along two of the walls ran a double tier of bunks¹⁴⁸, in which the lumbermen had formerly¹⁵⁰ slept. The cock stalked all around the place, prying¹⁵¹ in every corner and murmuring softly to himself. At last he flew up to the highest bunk¹⁴⁹, perched upon the edge of it, flapped his wings, and crowed repeatedly, as if announcing to the wilderness at large that he had taken possession. This ceremony accomplished¹⁵², he flew down again, stalked out into the sunlight, and fell to scratching among the chips with an air of assured possession. And all the while the red squirrel kept on hurling¹⁵³ shrill, unheeded abuse at him, resenting him as an intruder in the wilds.
 
Whenever the cock found a particularly choice grub or worm or beetle¹⁵⁴, he would hold it aloft in his beak, then lay it down and call loudly kt-kt-kt-kt-kt-kt, as if hoping thus to lure¹¹¹ some flock of hens to the fair domain¹⁵⁵ which he had seized. He had now dropped his quest, and was trusting that his subjects would come to him. That afternoon his valiant¹⁵⁶ calls caught the ear of a weasel—possibly the very one which he had seen in the morning trailing the panic-stricken rabbit. The weasel came rushing upon him at once, too ferocious in its blood-lust for any such emotions as surprise or curiosity, and expecting an easy conquest. The cock saw it coming, and knew well the danger. But he was now on his own ground, responsible for the protection of an imaginary flock. He faced the peril⁸⁵ unwavering. Fortunately for him, the weasel had no idea whatever of a fighting-cock's method of warfare¹⁵⁷. When the cock evaded¹⁵⁸ the deadly rush by leaping straight at it and over it, instead of dodging¹⁵⁹ aside or turning tail, the weasel was nonplussed¹⁶⁰ for just a fraction of a second, and stood snarling¹⁶². In that instant of hesitation the cock's keen spur struck it fairly behind the ear, and drove clean into the brain. The murderous little beast stiffened¹⁶³ out, rolled gently over upon its side, and lay there with the soundless snarl¹⁶¹ fixed¹⁶⁴ upon its half-opened jaws. Surprised at such an easy victory, the cock spurred the carcase again, just to make sure of it. Then he kicked it to one side, crowed, of course, and stared around wistfully for some appreciation¹⁶⁵ of his triumph. He could not know with what changed eyes the squirrel—who feared weasels more than anything else on earth—was now regarding him.
 
The killing¹⁶⁶ of so redoubtable¹⁶⁷ an adversary as the weasel must have become known, in some mysterious fashion, for thenceforward no more of the small marauders of the forest ventured to challenge the new lordship of the clearing. For a week the cock ruled his solitude¹⁶⁸ unquestioned, very lonely, but sleeplessly¹⁶⁹ alert, and ever hoping that followers¹⁷⁰ of his own kind would come to him from somewhere. In time, doubtless, his loneliness would have driven him forth¹⁷¹ again upon his quest; but Fate had other things in store for him.
 
Late one afternoon a grizzled woodsman in grey homespun, and carrying a bundle swung from the axe over his shoulder, came striding up to the cabin. The cock, pleased to see a human being once more, stalked forth from the cabin door to meet him. The woodsman was surprised at the sight of what he called a "reel barn-yard rooster" away off here in the wilds, but he was too tired and hungry to consider the question carefully. His first thought was that there would be a pleasant addition to his supper of bacon and biscuits. He dropped his axe and bundle, and made a swift grab at the unsuspecting bird. The latter dodged¹⁷² cleverly, ruffed his neck feathers with an angry kr-rr-rr, hopped up, and spurred the offending hand severely¹⁷³.
 
The woodsman straightened himself up, taken by surprise, and sheepishly shook the blood from his hand.
 
"Well, I'll be durned!" he muttered, eyeing the intrepid¹⁷⁴ cock with admiration¹⁷⁵. "You're some rooster, you are! I guess you're all right. Guess I deserved that, for thinkin' of wringin' the neck o' sech a handsome an' gritty bird as you, an' me with plenty o' good bacon in me pack. Guess we'll call it square, eh?"
 
He felt in his pocket for some scraps¹⁷⁶ of biscuits, and tossed them to the cock, who picked them up greedily and then strutted¹⁷⁷ around him, plainly begging for more. The biscuit was a delightful¹⁷⁸ change after an unvarying diet of grubs and grass. Thereafter he followed his visitor about like his shadow, not with servility, of course, but with a certain condescending¹⁷⁹ arrogance which the woodsman found hugely amusing.
 
Just outside the cabin door the woodsman lit a fire to cook his evening rasher and brew¹⁸⁰ his tin of tea. The cock supped with him, striding with dignity to pick up the scraps which were thrown to him, and then resuming his place at the other side of the fire. By the time the man was done, dusk had fallen; and the cock, chuckling¹⁸¹ contentedly¹⁸² in his throat, tip-toed into the cabin, flew up to the top bunk, and settled himself on his perch for the night. He had always been taught to expect benefits from men, and he felt that this big stranger who had fed him so generously would find him a flock to preside over on the morrow.
 
After a long smoke beside his dying fire, till the moon came up above the ghostly solitude, the woodsman turned in to sleep in one of the lower bunks, opposite to where the cock was roosting. He had heaped an armful of bracken and spruce branches into the bunk before spreading his blanket. And he slept very soundly.
 
Even the most experienced of woodsmen may make a slip at times. This one, this time, had forgotten to make quite sure that his fire was out. There was no wind when he went to bed, but soon afterwards a wind arose, blowing steadily¹⁸³ toward the cabin. It blew the darkened embers to a glow, and little, harmless-looking flames began eating their way over the top layer of tinder-dry chips to the equally dry wall of the cabin.
 
The cock was awakened¹⁸⁴ by a bright light in his eyes. A fiery¹⁸⁵ glow, beyond the reddest of sunrises, was flooding the cabin. Long tongues of flame were licking about the doorway. He crowed valiantly¹⁸⁶, to greet this splendid, blazing dawn. He crowed again and yet again, because he was anxious and disturbed. As a sunrise, this one did not act at all according to precedent¹⁸⁷.
 
The piercing notes aroused the man, who was sleeping heavily. In one instant he was out of his bunk and grabbing up his blanket and his pack. In the next he had plunged¹⁸⁸ out through the flaming doorway, and thrown down his armful at a safe distance, cursing acidly at such a disturbance to the most comfortable rest he had enjoyed for a week.
 
From within the doomed¹⁸⁹ cabin came once more the crow of the cock, shrilling¹⁹⁰ dauntlessly above the crackle and venomous hiss¹⁹¹ of the flames.
 
"Gee¹⁹² whizz!" muttered the woodsman, or, rather, that may be taken as the polite equivalent of his untrammelled backwoods expletive. "That there red rooster's game. Ye can't leave a pardner like that to roast!"
 
With one arm shielding his face, he dashed in again, grabbed the cock by the legs, and darted¹⁹³ forth once more into the sweet, chill air, none the worse except for frizzled eyelashes and an unceremonious trimming of hair and beard. The cock, highly insulted, was flapping and pecking savagely¹⁹⁴, but the man soon reduced him to impotence, if not submission¹⁹⁵, holding him under one elbow while he tied his armed heels together, and then swaddling him securely in his coat.
 
"There," said he, "I guess we'll travel together from this out, pardner. Ye've sure saved my life; an' to think I had the notion, for a minnit, o' makin' a meal offen ye! I'll give ye a good home, anyways, an' I guess ye'll lick the socks offen every other rooster in the whole blame Settlement!"