Suddenly Nate had a 50-pound bundle of raw ferocity in his arms.  He flung his free hand in front of his face and nearly cried out when the wolverine's iron jaws clamped down.  Tottering under an onslaught of claws and teeth, he tripped over his own feet and wound up on his back.
   Nate had to drop the tomahawk so he could grab hold of the animal's throat as it hurled itself at his face.  Muscles straining, he held the enraged predator at bay with one arm while he deflected its rapier claws with his other forearm.   Locked together, they rolled to the right, then to the left.
   The only weapon Nate had left was his butcher knife, but to reach it he had to lower one of his arms.  Taking a gamble, he swooped his left hand to his waist.  His fingers closed on the beaded sheath--but the knife was gone!  In the flurry of combat it had fallen out!
   Before Nate could life his arm again, the wolverine gave a terrific wrench of its whole body and broke free of his grasp.  Its mouth opened wide and swept to his exposed throat.  he felt its teeth on his skin.
   He was going to die!

   Nate gestured for his family to stop, and drew rein.  "Hold it while I see what's going on," he said quietly.  He slid off his horse and crept to the opening.  Dense vegetation cloaked a narrow trail and prevented him from seeing what lay beyond.  Cautiously, he stepped into the open, and as he leveled his rifle he remembered to his dismay that he had forgotten to reload it.  He had broken his first law of survival.
   Above him, leaves shook.  Nate looked up and saw two husky warriors balanced on a stout limb.
   They had just dropped a net.