The old Indian was sitting in the snow. It was Koskoosh, former chief of his tribe. Now, all he could
do was sit and listen to the others. His eyes were old. He could not see, but his ears were wide open
to every sound. “Aha.” That was the sound of his daughter, Sit-cum-to-ha. She was beating the dogs,
trying to make them stand in front of the snow sleds. Life law ……

He was forgotten by her, and by the others,
too. They had to look for new hunting grounds. The long, snowy ride waited. The days of the
northlands were growing short. The tribe could not wait for death. Ko skoosh was dying. The stiff,
crackling noises of frozen animal skins told him that the chief’s tent was being torn down.

The chief
was a mighty hunter. He was his son, the son of Ko skoosh. Ko skoosh was being left to die. As the
women worked, old Ko skoosh could hear his son’s voice drive them to work faster. He listened
harder. It was the last time he would hear that voice.

A child cried, and a woman sang softly to quiet
it. The child was Koo-tee, the old man thought, a sickly child. It would die soon, and they would burn
a hole in the frozen ground to bury it. They would cover its small body with stones to keep the
wolves away. “Well, what of it? A few years, and in the end, death.

Life Law

Death waited ever hungry. Death
had the hungriest stomach of all.” Ko skoosh listened to other sounds he would hear no more: the
men tying strong leather rope around the sleds to hold their belongings; the sharp sounds of leather
whips, ordering the dogs to move and pull the sleds. “Listen to the dogs cry. How they hated the
work.” They were off. Sled after sled moved slowly away into the silence. Life law Updating…………

They had passed out of his
life. He must meet his last hour alone. “But what was that?” The snow packed down hard under
someone’s shoes. A man stood beside him, and placed a hand gently on his old head.

His son was
good to do this. He remembered other old men whose sons had not done this, who had left without
a goodbye. His mind traveled into the past until his son’s voice brought him back. “It is well with
you?” his son asked. And the old man answered, “It is well.” Life law Story Continue………………

“There is wood next to you and the fire
burns bright,” the son said. “The morning is gray and the cold is here. It will snow soon. Even now it
is snowing. Ahh, even now it is snowing. Life Law Continue ……..

“The tribesmen hurry. Their loads are heavy and their stomachs flat from little food. The way is long
and they travel fast. I go now. All is well?” “It is well. I am as last year’s leaf that sticks to the tree.
The first breath that blows will knock me to the ground.

My voice is like an old woman’s. My eyes no
longer show me the way my feet go. I am tired and all is well.” law continue………

He lowered his head to his chest and
listened to the snow as his son rode away. He felt the sticks of wood next to him again. One by one,
the fire would eat them. And step by step, death would cover him. When the last stick was gone, the
cold would come. First, his feet would freeze. Then, his hands.

The cold would travel slowly from the
outside to the inside of him, and he would rest. It was easy…all men must die. He felt sorrow, but he
did not think of his sorrow. It was the way of life. He had lived close to the earth, and the law was
not new to him. It was the law of the body.

Nature was not kind to the body. She was not thoughtful
of the person alone. She was interested only in the group, the race, the species. This was a deep
thought for old Koskoosh. He had seen examples of it in all his life. The tree sap in early spring; the
new-born green leaf, soft and fresh as skin; the fall of the yellowed, dry leaf. [life law]

In this alone was all
history. He placed another stick on the fire and began to remember his past. He had been a great chief, too. He had seen days of much food and laughter; fat stomachs when food was left to rot and
spoil; times when they left animals alone, unkilled; days when women had many children.

And he
had seen days of no food and empty stomachs, days when the fish did not come, and the animals
were hard to find. For seven years the animals did not come.

Life Law

Then, he remembered when as a small
boy how he watched the wolves kill a moose. He was with his friend Zing-ha, who was killed later in
the Yukon River. Ah, but the moose. Zing-ha and he had gone out to play that day. Down by the river
they saw fresh steps of a big, heavy moose. “He’s an old one,” Zing-ha had said. “He cannot run like
the others. He has fallen behind. law Of life ………….

The wolves have separated him from the others. They will never
leave him.” And so it was. By day and night, never stopping, biting at his nose, biting at his feet, the
wolves stayed with him until the end.

Zing-ha and he had felt the blood quicken in their bodies. The
end would be a sight to see. They had followed the steps of the moose and the wolves. Each step
told a different story. They could see the tragedy as it happened: here was the place the moose
stopped to fight.

The snow was packed down for many feet. One wolf had been caught by the heavy
feet of the moose and kicked to death. Further on, they saw how the moose had struggled to escape
up a hill. But the wolves had attacked from behind.

The moose had fallen down and crushed two
wolves. Yet, it was clear the end was near. The snow was red ahead of them. Then they heard the
sounds of battle. He and Zing-ha moved closer, on their stomachs, so the wolves would not see
them. They saw the end.

The picture was so strong it had stayed with him all his life. His dull, blind
eyes saw the end again as they had in the far off past. For long, his mind saw his past. The fire began
to die out, and the cold entered his body. He placed two more sticks on it, just two more left. This
would be how long he would live. It was very lonely. law Of life ……….

He placed one of the last pieces of wood on the
fire. Listen, what a strange noise for wood to make in the fire. No, it wasn’t wood. His body shook as
he recognized the sound…wolves. The cry of a wolf brought the picture of the old moose back to him
again.

He saw the body torn to pieces, with fresh blood running on the snow. He saw the clean
bones lying gray against the frozen blood. He saw the rushing forms of the gray wolves, their shining
eyes, their long wet tongues and sharp teeth. And he saw them form a circle and move ever slowly
closer and closer.

A cold, wet nose touched his face. At the touch, his soul jumped forward to
awaken him. His hand went to the fire and he pulled a burning stick from it. The wolf saw the fire,
but was not afraid. It turned and howled into the air to his brother wolves. They answered with
hunger in their throats, and came running. The old Indian listened to the hungry wolves. He heard
them form a circle around him and his small fire. He waved his burning stick at them, but they did
not move away.

Now, one of them moved closer, slowly, as if to test the old man’s strength. Another
and another followed. The circle grew smaller and smaller. Not one wolf stayed behind. Why should
he fight? Why cling to life? And he dropped his stick with the fire on the end of it. It fell in the snow
and the light went out. The circle of wolves moved closer. Once again the old Indian saw the picture
of the moose as it struggled before the end came. He dropped his head to his knees. What did it
matter after all? Isn’t this the law of life? law Of life ………. end