But somehow he could not close that six or seven yard gap.

No matter how he strained and leaped, the great black brush was just so far ahead.

At first they had headed for the shore, but the fox wheeled back to the ice and up and down.
Skookum felt it was because escape was hopeless, and he redoubled his effort.

But all in vain.

He was only wearing himself out, panting noisily now.